NPM Day 30 {Rocks & Feathers}

Rocks & Feathers
April 27, 2017


The lowest tides bring the highest pain,
she is reminded on the shore
of stones smooth and cold, and sits
to let the frigid waters wash her feet.
Wind ruffles red tendrils of hair,
rattles the anxiety caging her heart,
and a murky sunset catches all
the blue from watering eyes.
She blinks until the sky is gray,
letting waves of salty atmosphere
dry tears and clear off the seagulls.
This hurt cannot be smoothed out
and left upon the winnowing beach
among shells and gentle driftwood.
We cannot know the history of things,
how large or small a creation came
from a pebble, a branch, a leaf.
We are all just rocks and feathers.
She sees all that's been forgotten,
sandy remnants of other shores, things
which tell no stories of former greatness.
And as the night air rushes downward
it carries her, and she knows,
she could have been a mountain,
and she could have been a bird.

NPM 2016: Day 21 {Carried Away}

Carried Away

March 30, 2016

This is freshwater on old sand,
lake waves on somber driftwood,
windswept sunshine on winter skin
and it will smooth out all your rough edges.

You are not too sharp for secrets,
you are not too dull to be carried away,
and so the water calls out to you
and asks you to be brave
in spite of the dusky, cold, depths
soaking you to the bone.
Where the water once was blue
so were you, too dark to touch,
and now all the sand is unsettled
like these thoughts, and out tumble
words in the shapes of sea shells,
small but strong, rugged and beautiful.
Everything here was once something else.
Once a tree, once a bottle, once a brick--

all fragments of former wonders,
casting shadows on who you used to be.
Don't be afraid of the waves.
They will not swallow you,
only carry you to another shore.

A New Season

I've been absent from the blog for over three months, so it's safe to say a new post is long overdue. Of course, you're all in luck, because it's almost my favorite month of the year: April! And we all know what that means. (In case you've forgotten, April is National Poetry Month, which equals a post/poem for every single day.)

Ahem.

Before I prepare you all for the wonder and joy of NPM, I should give some  updates, since my last post was somber--for good reason--and slightly ominous. I re-read it very briefly, to review my state of mind at the time, and couldn't get through it because things have certainly changed since then.

I'm not the first person on the internet to divulge details about depression and anxiety. I know that. I didn't expect to get an onslaught of sympathetic notes or anything. But part of the tragedy of depression is that we so often, for a multitude of reasons, feel as if our depressed state is something to be hidden or dismissed. I have been among those secretive people, deciding that I am fine and behaving as if I am fine to the best of my ability until I simply can't handle it anymore. I chose to express myself in a blog because it seemed to be the most honest way of admitting I needed assistance and also explaining why I had to make some difficult choices.

In any case, it has been an interesting three months.

For the first time since I was 19 I started an antidepressant. The first round was fascinating, especially the first week. I considered blogging the first week to talk about my extreme exhaustion due to the medication and wanted desperately to talk about my vivid dreams. My favorite side effect is definitely the vivid dreams. I've written previously about how realistic my dreams are, but these are on a whole new plane of fantasy. Usually I'm able to tell myself while dreaming if something is real or not--for instance, if something really terrible has happened or I'm scared, I can calm myself down and convince myself that it's not real and eventually I will wake up. But not anymore. Unicorns? Totally real in my dreams. Rainbows? They actually taste delicious. And don't get me started on the people I've dreamed about. Basically, I have no way to differentiate between subconscious concepts or reality. 

Other than the dreams, the exhaustion, and the incessant jaw-breaking yawns, it has ultimately been a successful experience. 

I can't describe to you the joy of being physically calm and mentally calm at the same time. Don't get me wrong, there are still plenty of stressful things in my life and moments filled with anxiety, but they no longer overwhelm my body and brain. I am completely astounded that I have not had any serious side effects and am thankful that this treatment is actually available to me.

Due to this blessing, as strange as it may be to call it a blessing, I have felt more like myself than I have in years. I have been painting a lot. (Sidenote: I redid the blog's design, and the background is one of my fun watercolors!) I have been able to read and draw and develop relationships new and old. I have been able to focus on the good things and handle the bad things.

I'm not going to say I'm happy. Happiness is a temporary, insignificant feeling. My goal is not to be happy. My goal is the ability to find contentment in every circumstance.

Of course, sometimes that circumstance involves going to the beach... and feeling happy.

More later. The next time I write here, it will be a poem. The time after that, it will also be a poem. Because National Poetry Month is coming. So watch out. ;)

Marriage Is: A Beach

Something simple for the coming week, because the last week was long and did not include enough naps.

I grew up around the ocean. My family moved to Seattle (yes, actually Seattle, not some random suburb) the summer I turned 5 and we spent many sunny afternoons making sandcastles or skipping stones or being buried in the sand by my brothers s at Alki Beach. We visited other beaches, too--up on the coast of Washington, in Port Townsend, or sometimes we went to beaches in Oregon. I remember the lakes with less fondness. They were slimy and gross, and had too many sharp rocks. 

Now, it might be because I'm an introvert, or I've always had a poetic soul, or perhaps I just dreaded being pushed under the water by my brothers, but I preferred to sit in the water rather than swim. I did know how to swim, but I didn't want to. I wanted to sit, and I wanted my seat to be about a foot deep so I could be fully submerged but also feel the sandy shore. I liked to watch the water coming in and going out, I liked to feel the waves move around my body. I think I knew it felt peaceful, even though I couldn't yet appreciate peaceful things.

These days I am stuck in Illinois, and there is no ocean. There is a lake. It's not horrible. 

My husband and I have been to the beach just twice this summer. The most recent trip was about a month ago, for our anniversary. We went at night so we could light some flying lanterns (so cool!) and watch them sail out to sea. Well... sail out to lake. (And, for the record, they didn't sail out to the lake because it was incredibly windy so they probably sailed out to the train tracks. In case you're wondering, they're biodegradable, and the entire thing burns up so if you were worried about some innocent person getting attacked by a wilted lantern, don't. Not possible.) Anyways. We lit three lanterns in honor of three years of marriage, and we would have stayed for a while except the beach closes at 9 o'clock. Joey would have been happy to hang around until the stars came out.

But my favorite time to be at the beach is in the morning. So back in May we went and watched the sunrise. We woke up at 4 o'clock, despite the husband's whining, and it was absolutely breathtaking (see photo above for proof...). He wanted to leave after about five minutes, but I just wanted to sit. And so I did.

One of the reasons I love the beach so much is because it's two completely different things that make one beautiful thing. You have the water, which may be fresh or salty or have lots of goose poop in it, but it's definitely water. And then you have the shore, which could be made of dirt or sand or just rocks. You put them together and BAM you have a beach. 

It's that simple. They are so unlike each other, sand and water. At deeper levels, they're both complicated. Sand is made out of the tiniest particles of shell and glass and rock. And that water, well it could be full of sea creatures and sunken ships, or maybe it's just a lake with lots of goose poop. 

Marriage is like a beach. I know I keep making this analogy, about two completely separate things that turn into one thing, but that's really the nitty gritty truth of marriage. You take one man and one woman, you put them together and as a unit they become infinitely more awesome than they ever were apart. How fantastic is that? And how fantastic is it that a beach is just water and sand? 

Another important way beaches and marriages are similar is that they move. Tides of peace go out, a wave of conflict comes in. The water washes a dead fish onto the shore and then the poor sand has to deal with it. It ebbs and flows with life's changes. The sand can be too hot, the water too cold. In marriage we change as a couple, but people do still change separately--it's sad to think that for this reason people sometimes get divorced. The challenge is not how to "deal with" or "fix" the change, but how to respond in a way that is loving, and accepting. (Unless that change involves someone becoming a drug addict or getting bitten by a spider and developing super powers. You have to fix/deal with that.) Beyond time, beyond impending differences, the water and shore know that they belong together. They know their relationship is infinite, and so they make it work.

How often do we forget that some of the most surreal and heartstopping things in life are not complicated? Some things just come together simply... naturally... and I find that incredible.