The Tired Talking

The Tired Talking

I feel like the lyrics in that song
You know, the one about being tired but not sleeping
When all my time is spent dwelling on not having enough time
and thinking of things I am certain will matter, but don’t.
The worn edge of a skirt,
Numbers on a scale,
Or the opinion of a random passerby.

You can’t blame me can you?
For I have been conditioned to worry,
taught to care about all of this.

But in the quiet moments in between I am daydreaming.
Thinking of the nightstand dwellers
Those whose fingers work by the phases of the moon
And those who get lost in the beauty of life and have no regrets.
I want to be among them.
To run along an endless stretch of sand
and get lost in an ocean of nothing and everything.

Perhaps that’s just the tired talking.
My eyes heavy now with a narrow focus straight ahead.
That is for sleep and dreams,
My weary mind begs, leave the worry again for tomorrow…

One Window

One Window

I saw the window and peered through the glass.
I opened the window and could smell the green grass.
O’er the fence there is a path that bends out of my view
With promises of more things, glorious and new.

And now that I’ve spied it I want to know more,
So I’ve turned this window of sorts into a door.
The angle of light as I step to the opposite side
Is bright and revealing, so much that nothing can hide.

More things are in focus, and I turn my head `round.
How wondrous this place is, this world that I’ve found.
I’m not sure where that path leads, but I want to know.
One window, one door, one step, here I go…

***

Most folks that would read this know already that I’m leaving my current position as a System Analyst for Methodist Hospital to pursue an opportunity with another local Omaha company, OTTR. What they may not know is that I have been working at Methodist for the past 16 and a half years and that it is the only professional position I have ever held.

By today’s standards, that is quite a long time to be with one employer, and even more so because I work in the field of information technology. The folks at Methodist have been a family of sorts for me for many years and in some ways, have seen me grow up. My time there has been tremendously valuable, and I have had countless opportunities to learn and grow. Methodist has had a large hand in making me the person I am today and I will be  forever grateful to those who were a part of that process.

In the past few weeks I have experienced a bevy of mixed emotions. Excitement about what lies ahead of me with so much to learn and do. Nervousness over starting something new and making what seems like such a big change and, of course, sadness over saying farewell to some really great people. One emotion that has been lacking in all of this… fear.

This new opportunity seemed to pop out of no-where, but when it did, I knew it was the right move for me. Some folks have said that I’m being very gutsy in making this jump, but it does not feel that way to me. It feels more like a door has opened up and on the other side of it are endless possibilities. I’m looking at the path ahead with a wide-angle lens and there are very few limitations on what can be accomplished.

No, there is no fear involved here. If you want to know what real fear is, rewind about 4 weeks and go for a ride with me on the white waters of NC (but that is a story for another time). For now, I’m just going to close this chapter and take a big step forward on this grand adventure we call life.

Always hopeful – Ever mindful,
~ShySpark

Meet Miss Hopeless Romantic

Meet Miss Hopeless Romantic

Tonight as I mix and mingle with a few new friends, Rum Chata and UV Cake, we are discussing, in earnest gossip, the re-appearance of Miss Hopeless Romantic who once ruled over the seven moons of my youth. When I first saw her last year, I thought it a trick, or some sort of mirage as I truly believed that when she sailed across the sea so many years ago, she would never return. Alas, she seems to have come home.

I also thought that if she ever came home, we would not recognize each other – we would no longer see eye to eye because the world has a way of changing us. If she still danced in the rain, and had a passion for the darkness and the notion of being whisked away, then I might not be able to tolerate that because I’ve become jaded with reality. The monotony of every day requiring me to stay in from the rain, and forgo the darkness completely for sleep would cause me to harbor feelings of resentment and jealousy toward her. I had my doubts about our reunion, but to my great joy, they were all for naught.

I reminisce about our little reunion with Cake and Chata…

We sat on the couch together, catching up like long lost friends often do, and I was amazed at the places she had gone and things she had seen, but also found it refreshing that we still had so much in common. We both still love to light fires and dance, and we both still love to be in nature and marvel at its beauty and also its powers of destruction. Her hair had grown longer and she lets it fall in natural waves around her shoulders and I was perplexed by the fact that she does not look like she has aged a day since we last spoke. I think there must be some special magic that comes from faithfully believing in fairy tales and happy endings. A powerful concoction that not only stops time, but also steels the heart and soul against the many storms of life. I had asked her to share her secret, but she just smiled and winked at me.

We talked about the state of the world today, and my place in it. We dwelled on her favorite subjects and I filled her in on recent events with regard to love and happiness. As I revealed all the details, she seems to understand with acute clarity what I was saying, not only by my words, but also by the look in my eye.

I told her that I can see the spoils of battle,
and that they are so beautiful and sweet.
It’s a life that is extraordinary, and full
and a happiness that is complete.

She smiled at me again, tilted her head to the side, and said in a soft quiet voice, “I do believe you have discovered the elixir that you seek, now don’t hesitate to enjoy it.”. We both laughed, just like old times. I knew there was a reason I always liked her so much.

… Well, we seem to be wrapping things up now. I think these new friends (and old) are pretty awesome – I just hope UV Blue and Cran don’t get too jealous.

In peace and harmony, hail and rain,
~Shyspark

Why I Write…

I write because the very essence of my soul demands it.

Hearts are weak, soft, and are hurt easy.
They bleed, and then cease to exist.
The soul is liquid forever
Moving at its own pace through existence
Mingling with others, and then splitting apart
Tirelessly spilling into new territory
Fearlessly cutting the terrain beneath it into cracks,
Caverns,
And yes, even canyons.
The fluidity of it is perfection.
And there’s no need to lead the way, it knows.
So denying it what it demands is folly.

My heart feels and seeks after inspiration,
But words are the implements of my souls grand design…

A Lesson for Life

A Lesson for Life

I stop, I waiver, I falter, I fail
I begin again, but I get no where.
I keep on trying to open my heart
I move forward, turn around, and return to the start.

I’m looking for something to tell me which way
A compass, an arrow, a sign from this day.
It’s one thing to know thunder always follows a spark
Another to trust instinct when there’s nothing but dark.

I think, I stand, I sit, I stare
I’m feeling quite foolish for going no-where.
My frustration grows, my inner spark wanes
The uncertainty here causes such worrisome pains.

Then off in the distance my eyes spy a light
It’s tiny, but growing, giving color to night.
It must be the sign that I’ve waited for
A pathway, a choice, a window, a door.

I am content now to wait here a bit longer
To see if the signal is real and gets stronger.
I’ll be bothered no more for beginning again
If all the stopping and starting was a means to an end.

Now from within me, different thoughts start to grow
I smile, I sing, I dance, and I glow.
Somehow I know that being open was never in vain
And that I have nothing to lose, and so much to gain.

Winter Waiting

Winter Waiting

The almond amaretto cherry pie is long gone,
The farmers market is no more.
We’ve settled in for winter and the waiting,
For waiting is what winter is for.

Waiting for the longer days to come
And sprouts of color through the gray.
Here and now we cling to all that’s warm,
And hang on until each new day.

The fire we started cracks and burns.
We silently watch endless embers fly up.
Then reminisce over summer time
And sip some concoction from our cup.

We talk about all the things we’ll do
And conspire to make this year great.
We dream of almond amaretto cherry pie,
While all the winter we wait.

The Taste

The Taste

I sip from this beautiful moment. The taste in my mouth is something on the verge of brilliance. Its very essence seems to be hanging between the scales that delicately balance reality and fiction. I lick my lips to savor the flavor as I am certain that any second the scales will tip in favor of reality and I will be forever denied another sip. In this moment I fervently try to uncover the mystical ingredients of what I have tasted, so as to hang a hat of hope on the notion that I could somehow reproduce it at some future juncture.

A dash of excitement, a spoonful of fearlessness. Possibly some measure of anticipation for things not known yet? Perhaps. I close my eyes to heighten my sense of taste in an attempt to fine tune the exact portions of each feeling. Seconds give way to minutes and hours and, yes, even days and I am amazed at how long it lingers after the moment is past.

And then I have an epiphany, like the most divine aftertaste that has ever danced on the palate. It’s the possibility that the scales could tip in favor of reality, and that reality itself is the key to a bottomless cup of these simply delicious moments. It is a truly fantastic idea that the hopeless romantic in me just can not help but believe…