Skip to main content

Turnings

There is a season, turn, turn, turn.

I loved that song as a child. I am discovering a new love for it now.

Monday I had what I described as a turning. I moved from feeling bleak and desolate to born and clear. Today my optimism rises even higher as I begin new projects and feel like I will have everything I ever wanted, or will want.

I am overwhelmed with clarity and newness. I have been wearing white to recognize how I feel inside. But soon I will wear colors again, and then I will wear black again. I know the autumn and winter will come. I don't know when. The cycle of my feelings moves in several months, maybe even two years.

Even as I recognize that this inner spring will turn I still feel its glow. I am this spring for the present.

Determined to continue my studies I have long left I took an older journal mostly blank for this break since I can't find my current journal. I turn to this entry,

1/23/02
Yesterday I taught 1st grade-- it was more trying than I even imagined. I wonder if I'll ever be able/invited (one word written over the other) to teach again there-- I hope so-- I learned so much it really seems like a shame to let it go to waste.

I thought it was interesting since I was in a kind of spring then. I had just graduated and was to struggle for freedom and independence. It is sad to remember everything after that happened after that entry. But it is hard to do differently than other people want. However I have learned much since then. I did the hard things. I did not become a little teacher. I did not work in the office of my family. I learned that I love freedom and how hard and cold it is.



Popular posts from this blog

Snow White and the Prince

I dreamed in darkness, cold and alone. Phantasms shifted around me, frightening me, but I was powerless to escape them or even move, as I was sealed in a casket. I thought of the Queen, my Stepmother, and tears dripped from my eyes as I considered the quasi-poignant moments we had once shared, when we might have been considered to be close, when the Queen had nearly been a mother to me, and the face of love had shone radiantly upon me, before eclipsed again by the storms of Venus. I thought of the huntsman, stung to consider that my only friend had been poised to betray me, to kill me, and again in my mind I felt the horror of his shadow, of waiting while he came behind me, knowing there was no escape for me from a death he would inflict. My heart lifted as images of the Prince entered my mind, his grace atop a white-maned horse, always out of my reach, just beyond the words I longed to speak. If only there had been more time for us to fall in love. He might have saved me from those...
more &

Where does it lie

I look out onto the yellow and brown vegetation beneath my window, at the castle-like buildings far away and wonder where do I lie in all of this? There was a time when I was unfettered. This was a time before I entered the working world, before I was independent. My heart was free as a bird when I was in college. I did not know what happiness I experienced in my creativity because I had never known different. In other aspects of my life I knew pain but my stories, sprung up lately from a gothic mist into an immersing Pre-Raphaelite painting, were a richness and the most beautiful thing I had ever known. That the most beautiful thing I knew to exist happened inside of me made me very happy, even though I didn't know it. Now I know the sun is setting, even though I can't see it, because the bank of brown, twisted trees and shrubs is lit gold, like a reflection from a golden chalice. Slowly, slowly it will fade until everything is a homogenous, uncertain gray. This is the nightma...
more &

The day was described as unseasonably warm

The day is so beautiful, but I do not feel beautiful. I feel like a void. The world will not be any more beautiful if I go into the park and enjoy the sunshine. The birds will still sing whether I go or stay, and this person does not seem capable of feeling any kind of happiness. I have been going through old entries, and find the same things I have always found when doing this. I have the same feelings and interests as I always did, I feel the same pressures and struggles as ever. I have been tagging things, but it is a never-ending task. I have nearly 800 posts in this journal alone, to say nothing of paper journals and other notes on the Internet. I thought I would organize my notes because I do not feel capable of imbibing any kind of information or communicating anything of importance. However, I am tired. I did not sleep well last night. It is as though at some point years ago I lost some sleep, and I have been losing it ever since. I have a strange, lost feeling when I thi...
more &