I disappear and then return often.
I’ve photographed this bridge before. This time I got a better view.
Isolation. Dilapidation.Strength. Wisdom. Weathered Beauty.
The striking introvert.
alone and comfortable.
what is madness? how does one go MAD?
It’s a word that intrigues me. it’s a character trait that I feel familiar with. It brings about in me feelings of curiosity, confusion, and fear. Is it a complete loss of control and rational thought? Is it extreme anger? rage? Are those who go mad manipulative? Do they lie and know that they’re lying? Is it thought out and controlled?
I don’t know. But I feel I’ve known madness and chaos all of my life. I have lived in survival mode for as long as I can remember.
I am tired. I am working on letting go and feeling free.
I do know that with madness, you have to be able to step outside of it. You have to look at it objectively.
You have to clear yourself of the terror in order to allow safety in. In order to see the light in the dark.
looking up this lovely stairwell I am stuck in thought. in vision.
spinning around and around in awe.
i start to think of cycles and patterns, going around and around, over and over. endlessly, like alice in the rabbit hole.
we must take ownership of all that we are, all that we do, and all that we say. we should be honest and learn from all of it. so we don’t keep spinning in circles. in cycles. over and over.
what do you see?
When did I forget how to have fun?
I asked myself this as I was massaging a heat/cool rub into my aching neck and shoulder. I looked in the mirror and watched the warm white turn icy blue and then absorb into my skin. My hair is long and mostly put up, except for some wavy strands that hang down and were getting swirled in with the creme. I have this ball of stress and tension in my neck and shoulder that refuses to leave me. It hurts.
What does it stand for? What does it need? I take pretty good care of myself. I eat well, I exercise, I sleep a good amount. I don’t look my age, and my life, in the big picture, is pretty good.
But when did I forget how to have fun?
I can think of two times in my life where fun did not exist. Two times that stand out like nothing else. When I was fifteen years old and felt abandonment from my mother. When I was thirty eight years old and felt abandonment from my ‘then’ husband.
I lost trust. I lost fun. It’s hard to regain that.
I’m working on getting me back. I need me back. I need fun.
Ahhh, my aching neck.
I come here often with my dog. There are many trees, and many squirrels. My dog is obsessed with squirrels, as most dogs are.
When I was very young, I used to talk to the trees. Literally. That included the real christmas tree that we would get each year, I would sing to it as I rocked in my little rocking chair. I would cry when it was time to get it out of the house.
I considered trees friends. I trusted them when there wasn’t much else to trust. They made me feel safe.
I love trees. I feel strength and protection from them. I feel all the history, the stories, memories, and peacefulness that they hold inside of them. I breathe them in as I add stories of my own to them.
This tree in Palmer Park. I love this tree.