1bohemian: Willy Ronis - Vincent et le chat, Paris, 1955
I’ve been having so many dreams with water in them. ~Kat
This is just so beautiful. It makes my heart warm. ~Kat
The beauty around her beckons. The grey overcast day outside her large large windows to her room, show a hillside blanketed in winters’ first start. The chill in the air is new. Space around her, the color on the walls, the tall ceilings, pretty things to look at, and she can stretch out her arms without touching the walls, all ask the same question. It whispers, “what do you want to do now?” It is an open, accepting, giving question. When she lived in amongst boxes piled high, and things that go bump in the night, her arms could not outstretch without knocking something over, everything screamed with a high pitch and very dark voice, “no you can not go anywhere.” And so she absolved herself in amongst the portal to the outside, the portal to dreams. In so doing she created a window out, and now she is here. The quiet, or the not quiet as it so happens, is beautiful, chiming to her ears.
She has found through all of this, that among all of the suffering that she has had over the years, that which was attached to not having enough, to pure unadulterated wrong doing in the world that had come down around her ears, was not the source of all of her suffering. Let it be known, that she has had many pains, yes. But these have gone their way with the years. She has learned and strived and moved past these agonies untold. This was quite an undertaking in itself. But now that she had passed these horrible tragedies that had fallen on her head, her body, and mind, she had continued to be tortured by the very place in that she lived.
Now, not facing such a horrible fate any longer, surprised, she found that there is still misery to be had. No all is not lost. She is content and happy you shall see. But the moments of anguish do come, and surprise her as if they are jumping on her in the dark, lurking in the corners of her mind. For they are from her own mind. She now can plainly see that the only pains left are those within her. She has overcome those tossed onto her, those which violated her being. But now in this beauty, to actually find moments in which she is sad, upset, angry, shocked her a little. For now the suffering is gone. She has accepted that these things which she knows she must face and has planned to do so, are still in her way. But she has set them aside, so that she can enjoy the view.
Copyright Kat Lyons
The world is dressed in costume, the children walking house to house….She has been watching the world go by, in her room. Pneumonia got her in it’s throes, all month long, worsening as the month is nearly gone. Flowers and candies, music, her melodies on her mind…They keep her company, as the clock ticks right on by. Her melodies they live and thrive, humming them she hears, they’ve reached a level she loves and adores. Now she longs to hear her music on a C.D., just so that she can hear it streaming through the air.
Rocking to and fro, swimming in the abyss, fever, cold, aches, barely able to walk, and pain everywhere….A flu that never ends, ceaseless in it’s tirade, with a heavy dose of feeling bad, more then a normal flu does…Day in and day out this pain, yet she looks upon loveliness. Things that she has only dreamed, have now become reality. One dream down, many more to go. She begins to contemplate about the other dreams in her mind. Some are little. Some are not so small. But now she knows, they can be had; for one of them came true. And so it’s time now to believe, and to set down the steps in reaching these. Watching the flowers grow in amongst the stepping stones…Her mothers’ eyes all aglow, her skin getting clearer and brighter, more young still, stripping away the years, as the smiles now cross her soul.
Unpacking and unpacking, where does this go, and where does that? Rummaging and finding things in boxes put away years ago….The bed welcomes her in it’s arms, a downey soft. It knows she’s ill. It warms her and is thrilled, to be used, to be needed, to be recognized for it’s comfort which it gives.
The crowded rooms, lines of friends coming to and fro, one box after another, have gone their way. Now it is time to imagine, time to spin, time to just be.
Copyright Kat Lyons
Picture Source: moodswingsonthenet
All she wanted was love, and girly things. It seemed like such a difficult equation for others to comprehend. Because they put her in a category, of being a nerd. They thought she wouldn’t like pretty things. They thought she lacked style. When it is simply that is all she was forced to wear. Becoming a pretty girl in high school, her mother really wanted to dress her conventionally. These are the things that mattered for so many years.
But as time passed by, what began to matter, is the love that she had never understood was there waiting for her taking. She didn’t understand her mothers’ love. It was invisible to her. But once she was able to take off the wrapping, it blinded her eyes. She always wanted her step sisters love, and her daddy’s love. She wanted to have a family. She wanted to be adored. But this didn’t come her way through them. So she found adoration elsewhere.
She found those who looked up to her, who were jealous of her, who saw her as powerful. She thrived in this environment, because it allowed her talent to be set free. She could develop magic that she saw in her minds’ eye. It took patience, diligence, and work. But it felt satisfying because she was creating something.
But this disappeared into thin air. It was as if the accomplishments were dissolved into societies leanings, television, and music videos, adapted to what she herself had personally invented and developed through the years. They stole her ideas like candy. So many years spent creating something wonderful, all to have it snatched up and to disappear. But she still has her soul, her spirit, the memory.
She learned the hard way that her ideas were something which others would take for granted, and use. She should be a millionaire. Her ideas changed society as we know it today. But her name is not known. No one cared how long it took for her to create it. So this time, she knows, to keep it to herself, until it’s done, until it’s wrapped up in pretty paper, with her name on it, officially in the book, written down. This time she knows, not to show, not to tell, what she has left. For she has given her life for these ideas. It’s her life and her intellectual property. If no one likes it, she will still create it. If they love it, she will thrive. Either way, she’s got to get there. But she is here.
She used to think that life was created by just a few steps. Now she realizes that the future is never here. For it is always now. And “there,” is such a distance from “here.” But her melodies sounding like they do presently to her ears, was so far away then. So she knows if she just keeps taking one step after another, she has a chance of getting there.
But today is today, and today has it’s limits. Yet today also has it’s beauty. And in that is where she has chosen to live.
Copyright Kat Lyons
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