Dilemma

Tags

action, dilemma, dreams, duality, father, hope, limbo, wisdom

 

Photo by Carrie Anthony on Behance

 

In remembrance of my father, and all the fathers on Earth and in Heaven, on Father’s Day and always …

 

While loading the supermarket bags into the car, my father’s words echo in my mind. “Be sensible,” he used to say to me in my childhood. I never understood why he said that as I wasn’t being naughty. I thought he meant “be a good girl.” Now when I think about it, maybe he meant “be wise,” rather than docile.

 

He has been on my mind, lately. Perhaps the reason why his words come back from the past is because in my recent actions wisdom has escaped me. What is wisdom? I guess it’s seeing beyond what seems to be. Filling in the blanks and perceiving the different shades rather than just the opposites. Despair makes one blind to the hues and the truth always lies in the nuances instead of the obvious.

 

So, I know he wants me to use my wisdom to get out of this blind state of duality in worldly matters. Think big, imagine and dispense with the shadows of fear and doubt. Be bold, have faith in your course and carry on, without looking back. If only …

 

The weather forecast was for a bright day. The sun did shine until around noon, then became overcast with dark clouds. A gloomy sight despite the warm atmosphere. Just like life. So many promises made, yet something happens and things become dismal when they’re not kept. Still, it’s also possible to be sad on a sunny day, and blissful on rainy and stormy day. So I have to find a way of managing my equilibrium on this overcast day of my life. I can only hope and manifest my dream in my mind. Maybe that’s a step closer to wisdom than becoming a slave of the attachments that are paralyzing my moves.

 

Let go and move on. Release yourself and breathe.

 

I go home, carry the bags to the kitchen, and sit in front of the computer. I have a number to call to make the first move. For some reason the number doesn’t connect me with the person I need to speak. I persist and find a contact, who knows this other contact, and finally I receive the e-mail address and the valid phone number in the middle of the night. If I send out that e-mail, things will start rolling. I go back to sleep, composing the message in my head.

 

I awake with these thoughts. I make coffee, play a couple of games of Solitaire while my mind clears up. I write the message and hit send. Step One taken. Tomorrow or sometime this week, Step Two or Plan B.

 

I have another cup of coffee and play three more games of Solitaire. I’m winning. At least I have done something, something that might release me from the current state of uncertainty and limbo. It may be a temporary solution, but a solution rather than a constant dilemma, eating me away like cancer.

 

“I know, I know,” I say to Ego. “Shut up. I need to live.”

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The Red Room

Tags

boudoir, candelabra, castle, confinement, ghost, gravity, isolation, light, love, the red room

 

In my self-imposed solitary confinement at the castle,

I roam the many halls and corridors

and stop by the Red Room

Do I dare enter her chambers for the first time

ever since she left?

Autumn has arrived though it doesn’t feel so,

the night is tender and tempting.

I unlock the door,

throw open the windows

and light the tapers on the candelabra

scattered around her boudoir.

 

Crimson velvet drapes sway in the fresh breeze,

the floral fragrance of her perfume still lingers in the air,

the candles flicker and cast their light

upon the guild-framed paintings on the red walls.

Portraits come to life,

their gazes follow me,

the lips curl into a smile, or a sneer,

they talk without speaking,

an organ plays in the background,

I pause by her picture, allured by her beauty,

She walks out of the frame and takes my hand,

Into the eternal night, she says,

her eyes are magnets that pull me in like gravity.

This is the love I have been yearning for,

I’m a moth around her glow

I know I will burn, yet I ache for her radiance.

She becomes the light,

I burn and feel no pain,

I rise and become a ghost, a ghost of myself.

 

We leave the Red Room and venture into the darkness,

An owl sings a song, night birds join the chorus,

they chant a tune in a strange language,

I do not know the melody, but I know the words,

Slave to the light, I drift in the air,

and follow her

Love and gravity are conflicting,

yet they are the same.