Initializing Memory with First Hospitals

Hospitals bother some of you because of memories tied to sickness death and/or loss. Emotions arise that hurt. Scare. I have never had that feeling while walking the endless corridors or watching the scrubs and white coats traverse the halls. I have no qualms about hospital food, save maybe the the size of the portions; surely the food on a plane, or school lunchroom, has been far worse than what I have ever experienced in a hospital cafeteria.

Perhaps the fact that my very first memory of life involves a hospital in a positive circumstance has a lot to do with my openness to visiting them to this day. I was two years and two months old when my brother, Byron, was born. I have no independent memories of life without him. Funny, I paused after writing that last sentence because when I think about him there is always an inner sense of closeness I feel--even though we are by no means "close" as I think people define the word. However, we certainly are not estranged either. In the moment it took me to write out that explanatory sentence, multiple childhood flashes of Byron zipped through my head: sniffing a raisin up his nose; sharing a bedroom with bunk beds; building ships with legos; play fighting that always got too physical and he would yell for mom; cutting each others' hair in the garage... Things I don't normally think about. :-)

Learning Circles

Sometimes it is something as simple as covering the top of your cup with a CD case while in the garage so that dust and insect friends don't descend into the liquid level inside; the things that friends teach me.  Yes, I can see the bugs flying.  Yes, I know there is dirt around.  Somehow, I just didn't naturally think to cover the cup.  These are the moments of "dumb genius" that are of note for my life.  I don't think the others around me "get that" most of the time. 

I'm so lucky when they do.

The Seed That Is Ugly

Over a decade ago I began to feel the social prejudice from friends when attempting to modify the direction of my own life and defining what "success" meant to me. I never thought that it would be something I would lose friends over. Was I naive? Does this thing Mr. Gage sees in me as a light of hope blind me to everyday obvious actions? Or is it that I have maintained a level of purity to the component of friendship that others lose as they continue to keep their minds closed and not open? I've been there too. (So I am tolerant more than I would have been, but the knowledge does not overt the immediate sting of ......betrayal?) 

I guess there was no need for a question mark at the end of that last word. It is the word that came to mind so quickly and the word that I feel. So when does one lose objectivity and believe what others believe as truth? And when does sticking to one's beliefs prove to be the correct course of action because---though unpopular---it is still right(at least for me & in the grander sense, right for a specific individual) in the face of so much doubt. These questions... these uncertainties... these clouds that may never clear... To me, these are the realities of an open mind and heart because there is no doctrine that asserts that "YOU MUST" or "IT MUST BE." 

I revert back to lyrics that resonate....

"How come no-one told me 

All throughout history 

The loneliest people 

Were the ones who always spoke the truth 

The ones who made a difference 

By withstanding the indifference I guess it's up to me now 

Should I take that risk or just smile?" 

-misread, Kings Of Convenience

Writer's High

It's moments like this that "I DO" live for. Dido's "White Flag" is half way into the song. I chose this song for this moment. I'm in the slipstream of my creative self and it feels so good that'm I'm welling up with tears because it feels so good to be here again. In the joy of it all there is the real understanding that fear is a begging transient who could grow if I don't stay focused---fear that this moment is transient itself. There was a time when it seemed that this balanced feeling seem to be effortless. That's a lie we tell to ourselves, I think. I'm anxious for my trip up to Oregon in June so that I can be rejoined with the box full of hand written journals that I have been separated from for two years. I know that within the words of my twenty years younger self there is wisdom that I have misfiled over time. There is confidence that I created to carry me through uncertainty in those pages. There are memories I purposefully wrote down in the hope that I would not grow into a soulless adult who was a shell of the ideals bourne in fearless youth. Having never been wreckless then, I have explored those brambles only to find that the thorns prick you regardless of when you brush them. (I don't heal as quickly as I did in my youth.)

Pledging Myself, Passing Regardless

May day, May day... calling on my will & determination to write something EVERY SINGLE DAY this month! Even if it's just a simple statement like this. But I should gladly ask myself for more. More.