Musings on Being...

I am the morning star peaking through the brances of the white birch tree filled with firey-yellow, golden-kissed leaves ready for one last hurrah before being released into the invisible flowing of the wind currents passing by, with just a soft whistle. Wake up, I am life.

I am the warmth in the early morning breath-of-air after the dew has given rise to meet me (melting away soft, wet water drops kisses off the tips of golden stalks of grain), dancing fanciful little twists and twirls in the early moring breezes. Feel me, I am life.

I am the coffee roasting in the pot - that 1st cup of the day; sitting in cream and sugar, a splash of cinnamon waiting for the first sip, just off the lip of the rim; round and full-flavored, dark roasted, and almond milk are chums. Taste me, I am life.

I am the buttered toast, so warm and dreamy. Perhaps a hot, flakly, buttery, little croissant just out of the oven with a bit of cream cheese and blackberry jam. I could be your scrambled eggs with bacon bits or a thinly sliced piece of ham. Try me as eggs over easy, with peppered bacon or a stack of flapjacks, buttered-down and covered with maple suryp and a dab of whip cream. I could be a hot bowl of cream of wheat or oat meal, or perhaps a bowl of cold cereal, drowning in milk. Taste me, I am life.

I am the hot shower, steaming up the bathroom walls. The lather in your hair and body soap, dripping down the length of your back, as you scrub off the sleepiness of last nights rendezvoues in your past-lives, present tradedies and trauma bondings of yesteryears past, under astral projections of self-travels in meaningless yesterdays that tell you - you're not good enough for today. Feel me, I am life.

I am the bit of old warn pale-blue shirt that fits you just right and still has all its original buttons down the front and up to the collar, that makes you feel like the first day you wore it to work and everyone complimented on how good you look. I am the tight, spaghetti top dress that shows off all those fabulous curves, and is made perfect with those firely-red shoes for a family-friendly Friday night meetup with coworkers night out. Enjoy me, I am life.

I am the late afternoon Sunday Brunch with out-of-town family here on a visit for belated birthday parties, because sometimes life has its hiccups and downs, that rise and fall when we least expect it, shuffling in chaos from unexpected work delays and last minute surgeries, penciled into schedules when no one expected it. I am that last minute Saturday & Sunday work call when you were really looking forward to a two-day weekend of sleeping in. Find me, I am the silver lining in life.

I am that late-night, date-night unexpeced; do you want to meet up and grab a bite to eat or go for drinks at that hot-topic, party-all-night clubing, as social gatherings in crowded watering holes, dressed in spandex and frilly blouses; where loud music is only drowned out by the heavy undertones of the base-beat that drives the party goers to dance on. Enjoy me, I am the spirit of youthfulness.

I am that still small voice you hear in the dead of night; in the quiet solitude of your life's deepest, darkest thoughts playing over and over in the back of your mind, asking those thinly veiled questions that are synced up to the wonders of whether or not you are good enough for all that you are and all that you can be are rolled up into those stinging questions, as echos throughout the ages of your life. I am self doubt... every life experieces my sting, because no man is an island; welcome to the deulsion that you are presently not enough.

I am the breath of life; that whispering in the wind that carries tiny red and golden leaves in a dance through the coolness of an early falls morning breeze, and yet... am I those dark voices that lurk within you that scream at you from the mirror; my nose is too long - my eyes are too close together or are they too big for my head; If I smile, someone may notice the gap in my teeth - am I smart enough for the job I want; do I have enough life experience? Why does everyone seem happier than me - will I ever be good enough for someone to love me, for me? I am confindent to inform you - those are not my whispers, nor are they by my design; oh, no, no, no, they are not!

They come in the form of that misguided loved one who made misguided statements which caused you to feel down on youself; made you feel all up in your head - in doubt and in dread of the things said; by mother or father, sister or brother, teachers, friends, family - alike, because they know not what judgements, those words placed upon your beautiful head, you dear, sweet soul, you. I am that which both binds men and sets them apart; that human downfall called inadequacy, which leads to jealousy - that measures one man against the other, but only in the eye of oneself - truth be told.

I was there when your right half was knit together to match your left; a mirror image with tiny imperfections like a japanese work of art. I know what a miraculous piece of work you are. I chose the color of your eyes the same way I chose the color of a dragonflies wings and all other creations in life were made by my design. An artist will choose a color palette and tools to make creations from what ones mind intends to design and even then there is free will - is there not? You are wonderous to behold, as you hold the breath of life in you - celebrate the beauty of my design.