Time Taken, Time Lost.(Excerpt from 10,000 Sleepless Nights)

I Often Speak about “Returning to Center” As a way to explain the behavior of some, as they collect themselves amidst their own lives. Here then should that term apply also to me.. both then and now.

What Say you

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by Sam Bailey (Notes) on Thursday, April 14, 2011 at 12:42am

Time…. How much?

Those that have known me..  could reflect on the acuity of this question, as It may relate to me..

I should be one that cherishes every moment,  to bask in each succulent instance as I draw forth the marrow of Life with each passing breath.

I would do this. I would be the flame in the tallow of fates candle.

But I can not, because I beset with memories awash in regret and loss.

I weep for what was.. I wander the halls of my own recollections searching for That which I once was, before I knew of time.

I can not live, what remains mine to live, because always I am  in the midst of life already lived, in the memories of how I lived it.

I would ask of Time, How much remains.. Not…

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Eventually, We all want to go home….

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There are so many  parables, expressions, anecdotes, and clever little phrases that we turned to about taking to some sort of journey.

In fact, most, if not all of us, have some sense of wanderlust within us, a baited sense of adventure, or unrequited childhood fantasy to visit some distant and wonderful land.

For many of us, even myself, much of those inklings, thankfully have been sated. For certain, there are many, oh so many of this worlds wonders, and its peoples I have yet to see and meet, but I have now done my fair share to be sure.

Yet there is really another type of journey, or I should say, another more poignant, more heartfelt part of one, that those of us that have seen and done sometimes lose sight of.

Those wayward, haunted and broken souls, simply trying to find their way home.

I have been on that final leg, So easy it is to forget.. It should be an easy location to mark on a map, the memory of it should as automatic as muscle memory, Yet for some, the Journey they have undertaken.. the terrible places they have gone, the horrible wrong turns, often doubling back, even getting lost .. breaking down.. Its all they can do just to hold on.. to one thought.

“I just want to go Home.”

In the end it is what we all want, what defines it, is something both time  and the journey will change, and in that so shall we. To this I can speak with certainty.

Eventually, We all want to go home.

No matter who, what, or where, that turns out to be.

 

 

In love with a ghost.(Excerpt From 10,000 Sleepless nights)

I revisit My own work..To see Am I that Still, HAs It changed me, did I become changed By, or what was ever either or.

What Say you

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by Sam Bailey (Notes) on Saturday, June 13, 2009

I ache… in the remembrance of what was.. I recall it yet did not live it …  I feel the wound of loss.. though I have not yet known it.. it was all that I wanted… but I know not when I had It.

Love….

A single word that in its defining can span time and space.
The forger of souls.

I knew it, have known it, at length and with conviction.. and when I did, I was it , and It made me whole.

If only now.. was then .. and then would have lasted.
But it is now, and now .. I am without love…

Yet I linger… a spirit bound, but aware.
I am love’s ghost…
and it is its memory I haunt.

This was Written In 2009, In perhaps the worst times emotionally in my adult life…

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The sights before us, and how time changes them.

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What Say you

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Life often reduces us to constructs of thought that are at best, belligerent, and at worst, violent. We do this so easily, we seldom realize what they could mean ..in a different time or different place.

It is much more an act of dedicated effort to build notions that are benevolent and compassionate, but doing so is the best of things..

For from thought action is born.. and for good or ill, consequences are to be found, and histories written.. and from that we build monuments to remember them.

Time then brushes over consequences.. and histories are lost or changed

The monuments weather on the longest.. a lingering shadow of what the thoughts of men may do..and for this reason we should govern carefully our thoughts, for one day they could be the lingering stones upon mount or field.. and may govern how the thoughts of those beings who will follow us, and the actions…

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When we seek the great Wonders of the smallest space we can find.

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As a Child, despite the hardships of Sleeplessness, reconstructive surgeries, and the all to frequent broken bone, I was seldom, if ever, unhappy. In fact, I recall with great fondness the joys of my own imagination. This of course never restrained or lessened in any way by my parents, who perhaps saw its purity as my means to ease what they may have seen as much more suffering than a child should bear.

As I spent more days than not, physically bound within the space of a hospital bed, bedroom, house, or a patch of dirt and grass scarcely beyond a front porch, with the endless sky held at bay a by a line of tall pines marking the not so distant other side of the street.

There is no greatness in the child of me that I will lay claim to that allowed for such wonderment that filled by days will flights of fantasy and kept the constraints of the world around me from closing in even further. That would belong to my parents, and on this for the sake of unapologetic pride, I will state as fact.

The point in all this, is that childhood distraction, so carefully nurtured for me, has become my most powerful of life tools now.

To realize any place, I am, no matter where I have let myself come to, where life has taken me, or where I might think I have found myself.. with no other place to go.. I can be.. any place I want, in an instant, and by that find myself right where I want or need to be. And that sometimes, well that can be just a good place to start.

Sometimes imagination isn’t about thinking very big at all. Its about being in that Smallest Space that we find.. and All the wonders we Let ourselves see.

 

 

It is never as bad as you Think, its how you think about it.

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It goes without saying, or at this moment it will, that I have had what some could think as a Bad go of things from time to time. I would be remiss if I did not add a disclaimer on the volumes to which I have regaled on just that very thing.

I am not taking this moment to issue some sort of invalidating retraction of the very same, but to add the appropriate counterweight.

A thought… its specific gravity, mass, velocity, vector, inertia, and force, its burden, hardship, wound, devastation, malevolence, bitterness, or its suffering upon us…..

Is Shit we do to ourselves..

Now .. what made it(Thought) could be Someone else, Something else, and even ourselves(which is like a doubling down on the Shit Part.) I, we, you, they, the person who will not stop talking to the Barista and is holding up your latte(Yeah.. That Shit, that’s on them) Was real, and worth the moment it happens, to think it over.

 

And after it has happened, it may very well have left a wound right across your soul.

but after that.. It will heal, the moment you let it.

Its More than something to think about, its how you think about it, and that’s all on, and completely in.. you.

Just a thought, I thought not so bad to share about me to you.

 

 

 

The Deafening sounds of when we lay quiet awhile.

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We have all been in that place, where just before, or just after, our lives have been thunder struck with something that will forever change every thought we have, every memory we possess, and every reason for either, and the force of it all makes just lay quiet a while, and think.

We are not resigned, scared, contemplative, or even at peace with it. Instead we are like the palm tree just before the tsunami strikes.

We Register that it will make no difference how we would respond, the results will be the same. So we simply ….wait.

Is it our need to find power in powerlessness, are we actually in control having none at all?

In that moment, that question cant be ask or answered, in the deafening sounds as we lay quiet a while.