Things I have found out about myself recently:

1. I am an Introvert presenting as an Extrovert.

(I don’t know if this has always been the case, or changed since I had Evie. I know I loved to spend hours alone as a child, reading, writing, or playing “make-believe” with my Cindys. Hmm…)

2. I love to be alone. I love to read.

(Well, duh!)

3. I know nothing about my “Shadow Ego Persona”

(Whatever that is 😉 .)

I lost my sense of self this year, but I found a poem whilst I was looking for another.

This poem is called “A Fleeting Moment’s Time”, and I found it on the Internet whilst looking for “This Moment”.   It is copies here wholly without permission, and I hope the poet (Joseph Alan) would forgive me!

A longing deep

Within does come

I sit to write again

I’ve no idea

Why it does start

Nor where it’s going to end

 

I sit here now

I look around

I smell the springtime air

I ponder on

This thing inside

Will it lead me somewhere?

 

Will words I write

Reach to someone

Will somebody understand

The feeling that’s

Behind the words

Just written by my hand

 

Will they reach out

To someone’s heart

Will they help another see

The longing which

I feel inside

Or are they just for me

 

The people talk

Who sit around

To me it’s just a blur

My mind has gone

Somewhere inside

There’s not a word I’ve heard

 

So many times

I have sat here

As I try to explain

The things which life

Has brought to me

Of all the joys and pain

 

So like before

I’ll sit again

To meet paper with pen

I feel my words

I write them down

As I search the Self within

 

I do not know

What thing inside

Brings forth this gaping hole

My life is rich

But something still

Cries out from in my soul

 

My friends are great

They mean the World

So does my Family

Yet something still

From deep within

Keeps calling out to me

 

I’ve watched the World

Around me change

Four decades I have spent

I think of people

Come and gone

I wonder where some went

 

Perhaps it’s just

The years gone by

Are catching up with me

Maybe it’s just

The faces lost

Stored in my memory

 

So many times

Deep in the night

An old face will return

Of someone who

Passed years ago

But still the memory burns

 

Then as I lay

Deep in a dream

In sleep I toss about

I hear the voice

Of years gone by

As ghosts of past cry out

 

I miss them so

Those gone before

As they return to me

They now but live

Somewhere within

A fading memory

 

As they call out

To live again

I see them one more time

Their voices I

Will hear again

Somewhere inside my mind

 

I then question

My life itself

What are we living for

A brief moment

I’ll walk this Earth

And then I am no more

 

A speck of sand

Upon life’s beach

Which got washed up on shore

To see some light

Then back to sea

To feel daylight no more

 

I’m sure there is

Something in life

Some reason why I’m here

Answers I’ve found

But it now seems

The questions are unclear

 

So now I sit

To write my words

Again to sort things out

To try to find

Some inner peace

For what life’s all about

 

It’s evening now

I sit outside

I hear the whippoorwill

He sings a song

Without an end

Night air beings to chill

 

At last I feel

Some inner peace

As I listen to his song

My soul it feels

Content again

But the day it was so long

 

As I now hear

His song cried out

He says again, again

In it I hear

Life’s own cycle

A song without an end

 

I’ll sit here now

Throughout the night

I know I will not sleep

But deep inside

I’m thankful for

The memories mine to keep

 

Inside I know

I am no one

It settles deep in mind

Within just years

I’m no more than

A brief moment in time

 

At least for now

I’m ok with that

As I wait for the dawn

Both He and I

Will cease to be

But life will still go on

 

My life’s been great

I can not lie

But something’s still not whole

Somewhere inside

Someone cries out

In darkness…all alone

 

So while I’m here

I will reach out

To touch another’s heart

A moment’s time

Is all I have

For me to do my part

 

What else is there

For us in life

Aside from love we give

To say that we

Were even here

Or that we ever lived

 

To reach out to

Another soul

That shall my purpose be

To write my heart

Then leave it here

So someone else might see

 

I’ve lived my life

With all I’ve got

I’ve shared my heart and soul

That I once lived

And walked this Earth

Upon some years ago

 

I know I’ll spend

The years in front

Just like the years behind

I’ll live and love…

I’ll laugh and cry…

…In A Fleeting Moment’s Time

A longing deep

Within does come

I sit to write again

I’ve no idea

Why it does start

Nor where it’s going to end

 

I sit here now

I look around

I smell the springtime air

I ponder on

This thing inside

Will it lead me somewhere?

 

Will words I write

Reach to someone

Will somebody understand

The feeling that’s

Behind the words

Just written by my hand

 

Will they reach out

To someone’s heart

Will they help another see

The longing which

I feel inside

Or are they just for me

 

The people talk

Who sit around

To me it’s just a blur

My mind has gone

Somewhere inside

There’s not a word I’ve heard

 

So many times

I have sat here

As I try to explain

The things which life

Has brought to me

Of all the joys and pain

 

So like before

I’ll sit again

To meet paper with pen

I feel my words

I write them down

As I search the Self within

 

I do not know

What thing inside

Brings forth this gaping hole

My life is rich

But something still

Cries out from in my soul

 

My friends are great

They mean the World

So does my Family

Yet something still

From deep within

Keeps calling out to me

 

I’ve watched the World

Around me change

Four decades I have spent

I think of people

Come and gone

I wonder where some went

 

Perhaps it’s just

The years gone by

Are catching up with me

Maybe it’s just

The faces lost

Stored in my memory

 

So many times

Deep in the night

An old face will return

Of someone who

Passed years ago

But still the memory burns

 

Then as I lay

Deep in a dream

In sleep I toss about

I hear the voice

Of years gone by

As ghosts of past cry out

 

I miss them so

Those gone before

As they return to me

They now but live

Somewhere within

A fading memory

 

As they call out

To live again

I see them one more time

Their voices I

Will hear again

Somewhere inside my mind

 

I then question

My life itself

What are we living for

A brief moment

I’ll walk this Earth

And then I am no more

 

A speck of sand

Upon life’s beach

Which got washed up on shore

To see some light

Then back to sea

To feel daylight no more

 

I’m sure there is

Something in life

Some reason why I’m here

Answers I’ve found

But it now seems

The questions are unclear

 

So now I sit

To write my words

Again to sort things out

To try to find

Some inner peace

For what life’s all about

 

It’s evening now

I sit outside

I hear the whippoorwill

He sings a song

Without an end

Night air beings to chill

 

At last I feel

Some inner peace

As I listen to his song

My soul it feels

Content again

But the day it was so long

 

As I now hear

His song cried out

He says again, again

In it I hear

Life’s own cycle

A song without an end

 

I’ll sit here now

Throughout the night

I know I will not sleep

But deep inside

I’m thankful for

The memories mine to keep

 

Inside I know

I am no one

It settles deep in mind

Within just years

I’m no more than

A brief moment in time

 

At least for now

I’m ok with that

As I wait for the dawn

Both He and I

Will cease to be

But life will still go on

 

My life’s been great

I can not lie

But something’s still not whole

Somewhere inside

Someone cries out

In darkness…all alone

 

So while I’m here

I will reach out

To touch another’s heart

A moment’s time

Is all I have

For me to do my part

 

What else is there

For us in life

Aside from love we give

To say that we

Were even here

Or that we ever lived

 

To reach out to

Another soul

That shall my purpose be

To write my heart

Then leave it here

So someone else might see

 

I’ve lived my life

With all I’ve got

I’ve shared my heart and soul

That I once lived

And walked this Earth

Upon some years ago

 

I know I’ll spend

The years in front

Just like the years behind

I’ll live and love…

I’ll laugh and cry…

…In A Fleeting Moment’s Time

Sometimes, enough is enough.  It’s not often.  But if it were… if I could learn to appreciate, just how lucky I truly, truly am… like I do now….

Well, then, maybe then, I wouldn’t need to document everything.  To “selfie” everything.  The world IS a beautiful place.  There IS art in the dumpster trash.  But THIS year (and I am hoping my resolve isn’t so shallow as a single year, but I know myself and maybe it is), but THIS year, I am devoted to changing the world.  One teeny-tiny step at a time.

Listen to that homeless guy that asked you for a cup of coffee.  (check out “Cider and Crack”.) Maybe he does want a cup of coffee, or some cornflakes.

Donate.  And that might be only compassion.  I asked 2016 to make me generous and it did.  I know (looking back) that 2017 was a mixed bag.  I donated to a bunch of things, and I started a Charitable foundation, but I got lost again.  But often, I have love to give….  And often, that is what people need.

After all [and I really want to post a gratuitous-Beatles-photo here], Love makes the world go round.

Do we want to be like Dolores, or do we want to wake up?

I am paraphrasing, but:

In my experience, there is  no such thing as luck.”. I think OB1 said it to Han Solo.

It is either the Force or the universe.

So we we want to be Dolores or do we want to wake up? (Take the green pill, take the red pill.  Thank you, Wakowski brothers – now siblings – for the hints along the way.)

Are we trapped inside a movie, or a video game?  The matrix, or someone else’s narrative? It’s everywhere when you look for it books, TV, the new The Arrival movie.  

We can change the plot, or  we can wake up 🙂

It is an will wind that never blows anyone any good, my mother used to say.

She meant that is was always blowing someone some good, somewhere.

Sometimes is is just an ill wind, that never blows anybody any good.

Pop quiz: Which stack of books are mine, and which are Evie’s?

(Footnote, I did try and buy an image of a Night Owl to put here, but I couldn’t get past all of the login information.  Wow.  It is difficult to actually pay artists for their work!)