The path that isn't taken

There is one way to go,
you can't see it,
It exists to be trod,
lean into it anyway,

Push through the bushes,
through the trees,
The mud won't stop you,
nor the rivers, lakes, mountains,

Traversing distance,
Transitioning daily,
Truly determined,
Taking damage;

You will find it between your stride,
when your mind wanders on the breaks,

You will notice it in your peripheral vision,
Conversations will form and grow,
Paradigms will appear and shift,

Then your eyes will open,
Then you will see...yourself.

Weekly Agony

Wracking pain in every joint,
Chills shake my heat out in waves,
Heart smacks against my ribs,
Breath escapes through clenched teeth;

My stomach flips: growling, then angry.
Neck groans at a head that aches,
Abs radiate a moan to my mouth,
Eyes burn and tear, as if a sadness has destroyed me.

Damn the medicine that brings this pain,
Pain once again my ally,
Pain takes days from me, tearing them away,
Yet yielding years in return.

Here is my curse, measure it,
Here is my pain, feel it,
Here are my blessings, allow them to effervesce around you.
Allow them to embrace you, for they are me.

I am my pain, my curse, but it lets me be your blessing.

The road less traveled

Ahhh, the quiet, shady road less traveled.  Whenever a comparison word is used a comparison should probably be used so here is a road 'more' traveled:

The sidewalk implies "walk here", Whereas the dirt road implies "this way has been walked."  The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost is a source for these thoughts.  The 'road less traveled' concept sings to my trailblazing heart.  

Unchanged country is hard to find in today's world, unless one seeks this inside themselves.

For the better part of my life, I cursed this invisible trail.  I tried walking the paths others did, none of them kept my interest long.  I shuffled and kicked the rocks on this trail, drudging along alone.  The loneliness was a mantle that I felt burdened to wear.  People would walk with me for a little bit, but no one lingered.

Religion didn't ever offer companionship, all the rules led to more isolation because of guilt.  I was convinced that something was different/wrong about me.  I was at least half right.  

I came to a crossroads, and chose to continue on my own path, blazing a trail.  Then I realized that I was made for this trail.  Yes, I was different, my path was my own, but that I didn't have to walk it alone.  I thought I was only one person incapable of only loving others.

Imagine my surprise when I realized that the person I was missing was myself.  I am finding that no one else can understand my path.  Even my soul mate has a different path, that runs parallel some times.  

I have found ways to translate my personal thoughts into words and actions that most other can understand.  They didn't blaze this trail, most people don't blaze any trail they follow mindlessly behind others.  

This road less traveled continues to lead to a deeper understanding of myself.  As one person understands another better by continued interaction, so this trail teaches me about who I really am.  

I would enjoy your company on this path, but it is not for the faint of heart, or those whose chief concern is safety.  You will get to see some stuff you have never dreamed of.  Maybe what you see will help you push through a rough spot in your own trail,  chances are good that you will see things that I could never dream of.

It could be that you feel trapped, lonely, doomed. Look at your crossroads, choose your way, push forward, find a little bit more about your unique path.  There isn't a wrong way, as long as you lean into it.

The Bones of Memory

Gazing out the window,
   at the bleary world;
Cold, icy precipitation
   filtering the light;

Ponder fleeting memories,
  wrestle the bones:
Detail, fact, and feeling,
   on the oldest, scarcely remain.

Kindred are the bones,
   of a lost civilization,
left by holocaust,
   jutting accusing fingers at the sky;

A holocaust of the mind,
   missing essential flesh
from the bones of memory,
   on this devastated plain.

Indispensable bones, though, hold rightful their place,
   pinioning heart, mind, and action,
requisite priorities held in place,
   this varied world of thought comprised of
      some chaos,
      some extinction, and yet...
      exquisite growth!

Evidently there ARE limits

I guess there are limits to how much one can grow and change. I feel overwhelmed, stretched, weary, and beaten. I set out with hope and confidence two weeks ago that I could set some goals in regards to getting ready

Is Blood thicker than water?

Medical science says "yes". Blood is made up of all kinds of substances: Red blood cells, platelets, white blood cells, plasma, and water.

The colloquial cliche (blood is thicker than water) doesn't seem to ring as true for me, at least not all the time. The cliche: "we hurt those we love the most" seems to be a better fit in many of my life experiences.

Extended family (blood) seems to try to take advantage of each other at every opportunity. I wish I could say that I had only seen this in my family, but in many families, the older prey on the younger, and the stronger family member preys on the weaker, and the concept of family is destroyed by a kind of Civil War.

Many of us wander like wounded weary civil war veterans, searching for peace, trying to find the family we were so proud of in our youth. All that remains of that pretty picture is shattered fragments of an illusion which we once thought was real. We were young and we didn't look too deep into things.

I managed to get far enough away, so as not to be percieved as a threat, so I am able to maintain a shaky, tentative peace with my parents. They call if someone dies, but otherwise they are the North and I am the South, except in my history I rebelled, broke away and became my own country. I wanted to live life differently than their religious zeal would allow. So, I live as a pariah from my parents. They only tolerate me to be able spend time with my daughter, which grates on me.

Perhaps blood is thicker than water overall, even if it doesn't seem to be to them. I keep trying. I keep hoping. I keep allowing communication with the grandkids. So, at least to me blood is thicker than water.

I was raised to be smart, religious, legalistic, and judgemental. I am gracious, accepting, moderate, and intelligent. Obviously, what was done turned out decent.

I guess they are standing by the window waiting for the prodigal to come home, the same way I am. Waiting is my last resort, whereas it seems to be their only option.

Back to the original question: In regards to our children, this statement does ring true. The more I try to be a 'father' to my step daughter the more I become the typical step father- aloof, firm, and insensitive. Whereas with my 'birth children' a balance of firm and fair seems to come naturally most of the time.

I am realizing that the only way to achieve balance with my step-daughter is through the guidance of my soul mate which is her 'birth-mother'.

Blended family life has many lessons to teach. That "blood is thicker than water" is only one of them.

My parents treat complete strangers better than they treat me for some reason. I am not upset or offended at this truth, just curious and confused. I look at my children and wonder at what point I will consider "cutting my losses" and pulling out my investment in their life. If they do illegal drugs? If they get drunk? If they murder someone? If they get a DUI? If they steal money from me? I do see that these actions might require some different boundaries be set.

Hopefully never, hopefully I never see my time to help them in life has come to an end. Yet, I haven't done these things and my parents have gone silent. This is why I say I am curious.

Is blood thicker than water?

Medical science says "yes". Blood is made up of all kinds of substances: Red blood cells, platelets, white blood cells, plasma, and water.

The colloquial cliche (blood is thicker than water) doesn't seem to ring as true for me, at least not all the time. The cliche: "we hurt those we love the most" seems to be a better fit in many of my life experiences.

Extended family (blood) seems to try to take advantage of each other at every opportunity. I wish I could say that I had only seen this in my family, but in many families, the older prey on the younger, and the stronger family member preys on the weaker, and the concept of family is destroyed by a kind of Civil War.

Many of us wander like wounded weary civil war veterans, searching for peace, trying to find the family we were so proud of in our youth. All that remains of that pretty picture is shattered fragments of an illusion which we once thought was real. We were young and we didn't look too deep into things.

I managed to get far enough away, so as not to be percieved as a threat, so I am able to maintain a shaky, tentative peace with my parents. They call if someone dies, but otherwise they are the North and I am the South, except in my history I rebelled, broke away and became my own country. I wanted to live life differently than their religious zeal would allow. So, I live as a pariah from my parents. They only tolerate me to be able spend time with my daughter, which grates on me.

Perhaps blood is thicker than water overall, even if it doesn't seem to be to them. I keep trying. I keep hoping. I keep allowing communication with the grandkids. So, at least to me blood is thicker than water.

I was raised to be smart, religious, legalistic, and judgemental. I am gracious, accepting, moderate, and intelligent. Obviously, what was done turned out decent.

I guess they are standing by the window waiting for the prodigal to come home, the same way I am,