Cloudy with a Chance of Optimism

We come upon words that touch our thought. Thoughts that we otherwise push away, differ to the more important aspects of life, at that moment.
Forgetting that what surrounds us, encases us and all the beauty that it truly holds.

We let life cloud the vision of the truer reality that stands before us...beckoning us, if we are listening. Waiting. The most patient mistress we all have within our lives.

Do we listen? Do we heed her foretelling? Her need to share the beauty she holds within our grasp?

How many times dow e go about our daily business, oblivious to our surroundings?

A part of myself that I have always embraced and never really shared, due to when I did share I was given looks of disdain or just that I was being silly. That what I spoke of held no importance in the importance of the daily tasks at hand.
I had and have and do, take those moments and revel in what they hold for me.
The blackbirds and theri dance of flight. Whatever the meaning or what they are truly doing, it is the beauty of that flight that captures me.
The flags along a busy road. Paying no mind to the meaning of that flag and all it encompasses, yet the beauty of how the flag waves, the gentleness of the breeze that calls attention to the meaning that it holds. That slight wave, the unfurling encapsulates that meaning. Making it more important.
I revel in these moments now, an attempt to recapture what I had pushed aside for years. Lost in the minutia of the day. The moment. Lost in the tiredness of living.
These moments alleveating that fatigue.
Creating an optimism for going on. To capture(recapture) something that was lost in days past. Days spent worrying of bills, the drive to work, the moment of existing.

There is beauty in all, in everyday living. Taking the moment it takes to google something, text something...find it, hold it. That is what we take with us. Not the material we surround ourselves with, no. The most precious of life is there for us, we just can't hold it in the palm of our hand.

Why

Watching a television program on NatGeo about the Holocaust. Hitler's Hidden Holocaust. I am not sure the true reason why I watch these events, these horrific acts on human kind. Why documentaries of Hitler, pull me in.
It is not for anything but understanding. Never forgetting.
I see these faces of people, real people. The look in their eyes.
The children who should be grandparents today, and are not. I hate to use the word fascinated ...or enthralled. It is not a drama of fiction, it occurred. For the hour of the program I am entranced in these lives. These lives taken by an ideology I can not understand.
I can not wrap my head around this thought process. Of when it became okay in the minds of those who committed such evil.

I have lived my life on the outside. I blend well.
Always a commentary inside, asking why. It drives me. Hence the degree, the degree that just happened. It wasn't my goal. Was NOT where I wanted my path to go.
I had bigger plans.
And here i sit in the path I chose, the path that came by and I turned.

The human psyche has enchanted me. Not that what we find out is in anyways "happy" or what we think life should be.
It ends dramatically, grossly...places we would choose not be.
Details we as humans have chosen to push away, to not expose ourselves or our minds to any way, shape or form. The reality we avoid. Facing these demons or convincing ourselves of some justification, does not make it go away. Yet destined.


And here these faces 3446 men and women and children found themselves. Or were found to be.

Utter desperation fills cavities of thought.
Hard to shake that feeling.

Automatic

Ah yes..this space. This space I keep JUST in case. Just in case I am inspired. Just in case a character gnaws enough at my brain, that nothing else matters but the words. Just in case I have time. Just in case it would mean a damn thing to anyone.

Just in case I thought the words were worth...worth reading.

No worries, I am not on empty. I am not devoid of ANY thought.

It appears that the thought of sitting here banging out words, for what?
I could write the most insightful piece of work, and then what?
So what.

My love/hate affair with words is an on going battle. It always has been.
I really think there should be a diagnosis.

I could spend days, literally days, banging this keyboard. WOnderful lines of memorable rhetoric. Characters we love to hate and those that just make one say..."What?"

Life intrudes on my ability to do what I truly want to do with my words.

Since a child, getting lost within the banter and lost within the 'scenes" that play out before me.
Tunneled. And it will not leave me be until I have an ending.

It will play over and over...one chapter, one scene, until it works itself out. Then life, the normalcy of life can then carry on.
Living, while this process seethes, becomes rote. Automatic. Within completing homework with a child, or driving, or in a meeting....
"Simon"(A character in my head) battles wars on green fields in England. Or "Evony" contemplates the philosophy of her position. And then there is Mason.
They live in your head, in your heart. And they will not go away until I give them their breath.

Giving an hour here or two there, assists with this chatter, yet can not be completed until the story is completed.
Then walking away from it is okay.
For two years they have all sat, tucked away in the crevices, hiding out. Waiting for me, to give them a voice.
For two years I have missed that ability to spin their lives.
Yet I can not give them an hour or two. Its an all or nothing feat. Once again, Life intrudes.
Ah well...
This has only been an exercise in words. Pissy words, yet still done.
Not like anyone comes this way much. And maybe that is what I need, just a space to place them. The words, the characters, the exercise.

I keep promising that I will. Question is when.
Just in case I feel like it.