The world is caving in
The world has lost her way again
But you are here with me
But you are here with me
Makes it ok
These are words to a Dave Matthews song called "Oh" In an interview, he said these lyrics are to his grandfather who has passed on. But it's true. I think so much that the world is blowing up and has lost her way. It makes me sad; heavily sad that most of the time I don't realize how it has seeped it's way into my soul and tainted my whole perspective By that time it almost seems too late to NOT think about how shitty things are. Then, of course, the whole brain washing thing has to begin again. Washing my brain of all the dirty, mean, horrible thoughts of reality, of people, of death and of meanness " Wow", you may say," she's gone way in over her head". Yep, indeed I have.
I made a friend on facebook. I'm not sure how we actually became friends other than she was my husbands friend via some other website about jews or Leeds, his old stomping ground. But she was so nice and we chatted via facebook about life, religion and world. Then one day, a few weeks ago, she went in to the docs because she thought she had gallbladder problems. But it was apparently a serious stage of cancer. She died today. I think it was today. Even in a virtual world there is grief and sadness when someone is no longer there.
So, should I bring up the latest? The young guy who was released from the taliban because we traded 5 pieces of shit for him? I think this is what disturbs me most. This is what I"m trying to escape most. According to a former friend of his he was quiet, shy and kind. He was philosophical and a thinker. Apparently he thought too hard when he was in Afghanastan and decided we weren't as pure as people thought we were. He wanted to leave. He probably had a break down. I can relate. All of his buddies escaped from the horrors of their surroundings with having beers and going out. They asked him to join them but he didn't. I get it. He probably saw the bigger picture and didn't know how to process it. So he left. How the hell do I know though? I don't.
Yes, the mean stuff that I read about what people say is enough to make me want to pack it in. Give up on humanity. I think it's the final straw. It's difficult to believe people can love one another. I chose the Christian faith because it is founded on unconditional love. I don't see that at all in my old circle of Christians friends. I see judging, fear and all sorts of darkness that I don't want anything to do with. One thing I don't see is any sort of hope,
Okay, enough of the ranting about others. Me? Myself? Oh for god's sake. Shall I just take a minute? Yes, I'm superficial I looked at myself in a video at Home Depot and there, in the camera is a woman whose eyes are framed by deep, dark circles of bags. OMG...is that ME? I'm not one to grow old gracefully...okay? So stone me for it. I'm just not there. Of course you have heard it before; I feel like my life is just beginning. But of course, it's not.
It's hot as hell in this Phoenix. The nights cool off a bit and I lie in my comfy hammock under the three palm trees and look up at the stars. Sometimes I ponder the greatness of God, other times I feel the presence of my loved ones who have gone on. But it's a peaceful time, the dogs make sure I"m okay, then go back in to the air conditioning. And I am alone. Just like I came into the world and just like I'll leave.
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
Maya Angelou
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
Maya Angelou
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