How Could This Be So Difficult?

How does someone rule a Queen? They don't! It is all about love really.
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I Have Not Felt Such Longing
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I have not felt such longing before.
Your very absence makes me angry
That anything in the world can keep us apart.

I am weary of respecting job or time or responsibilities.
My God! I have seen jobs dissolved, time disappear
And responsibilities carried to the grave.
There is always someone else to work or care for,
But no one else to love.

Do you not understand? There is only love!
Must I be madly in love only in my fantasies?
Does ever reality return home for her children,
To collect the mail or answer a wrong number?
It’s always a wrong number when you are in love.

Love cannot look back for such will never come again.
All else has another chance:
A child, a job, a parent, a friend.
Only love must respect the moment.
And when it is ignored or qualified or compromised,
Then it is never the same again.
It is only the passing of time,
However comfortably and well.

Arthur C Clarke - Disturbance in the Force

Today one of my favourite authors passed away.

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Arthur C. Clarke, British-born science fiction author, has died in hospital in Sri Lanka at the age of 90. Clarke had been in and out of hospital since his 90th birthday in December and had breathing difficulties, his aide Rohan de Silva said.

"Sir Arthur passed away a short while ago at the Apollo Hospital," Mr de Silva said.
During a career that spanned some seven decades, Clarke wrote more than 80 books and hundreds of short stories and articles.

But he is perhaps best-known as the author of 2001: A Space Odyssey, which director Stanley Kubrick made into a film in 1968.

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Isn't it strange that today, writing was the topic of my last two blog articles.

The first book I ever wrote, at the tender and oh-so-confident age of 14, was SF. Then I realised I was too young to understand life much anyway and didn't have enough of a clue about hard science to fill a thimble. I still have that "book" somewhere though. (it was awful!)

After seeing 2001 - A Space Odyssey, several times and having read the book, I endeavoured to read many of Mr. Clarke's books and articles. He was prolific and a future thinker, always thinking ahead of most in the world.

He was 90. I hope when I am that age, I will have written just one novel that he would have picked up and considered reading.

For me, today there is a disturbance in the force of writing.

Writing Is Sooooo Easy !

If you write, everyone thinks what you do is easy. You sit and think and read and then you tap some keys and viola! Writing.

I love writing, no matter how difficult it is! It is better than chocolate!

A Write to Life

I have a soft and often worn, white T-Shirt. On the front, written in large black letters are the words: "So many books, so little time!" I spend my life writing. And I wonder why and how it happens and for me this is especially difficult when my Muse has gone.

I miss my Muse and dedicate this to him, and all those who write beside me and hope it is part of my legacy too.

A Write to Life

We write.
We write to speak
when we have no "official voice".
We write to wrestle
with our own flesh and blood
and humanity and spirituality.

We write to ease our pain,
to dance with letters
when no human can fill that need.

We write from ordinary hope
to extraordinary hope
and experiences.

We write when we are alone
and when we are in crowds.
We write at first waking
and as we stumble into our beds weary.
Our dreams are filled with the ink
on the pages of our dreams.

We ache to “speak” to another,
to connect in a society
where wires or wireless
are more common that hugs,
whether they are like
the French touching cheeks in “air hugs”
or the 90-second,
too-long, Sheridanne hugs
that are meant to relax you
and result in giggles.

We write in a desperate effort
To travel the space from me to you
– that is the key
no matter how close
or far the distance is.

Does a tree
falling in an empty forest
make a sound?

You bet it does.

And so our writing matters
if we only write
in invisible letters
on the backs of our loved ones
or in sky writing puffs
of vapour in the sky.

We hide our writing sometimes
and sometimes we buy billboards
to expose others to our thoughts
as if we are opening our own bright blue raincoats
so others will recognise our bits hang there.

We write to live
and we write because
we will not always live.

We dream of a legacy where
a small corner of our Moleskine notes
is found in the back
of our auctioned off, old, ratty desk
and know our words may change the future
if we have chosen our words well.

Writing to live
and living to write –
some of us know this
and it terrorises us
and it inspires us
and it depresses us
and it enlivens us.

The writing life
– who can top it?
– Should it be topped?
– Can it be topped? ‘

No.

It exists
to humble those of us
who are obsessed by it.

Dreaming Primer

Time to prime our dreams for the reality of a new dream. Hope you enjoy....Take care with love, S

Sleeping Images

What would a dream look like do you think?
From the inside of your sleeping brain?
How do you put it down in words?
Can you draw it in images?
Or capture it on film or digitise it?

What music would it sound like?
Is there a voice?
Is it deep or so light you barely hear it?
Will it be on the harpsichord?
Can I hear a lute or drum?

A colour green or yellow?
Is the stone grey or dusty white?
Are the roads black with rain?
Could the fields be blanketed in snow?
Are her lips cherry red?
Are his eyes the most green of blues?

Do you taste the apricots?
Now or after?
Is it chocolate or melted butter?
Could it be a pomelo?
Or tomatoes?
An oyster -- with salt?

Will she be here?
Will he hear her here?
Will her footfall part the grass?
Will he glide above it?
Will they dance there?
Or simply stand and stare there?

Where will you be…
In my dream?
Will you still be there?
Or will you have gone…
To leave a fading sepia memory?

Sleeping Images

What would a dream look like do you think?
From the inside of your sleeping brain?
How do you put it down in words?
Can you draw it in images?
Or capture it on film or digitise it?

What music would it sound like?
Is there a voice?
Is it deep or so light you barely hear it?
Will it be on the harpsichord?
Can I hear a lute or drum?

A colour green or yellow?
Is the stone grey or dusty white?
Are the roads black with rain?
Could the fields be blanketed in snow?
Are her lips cherry red?
Are his eyes the most green or blues?

Do you taste the apricots?
Now or after?
Is it chocolate or melted butter?
Could it be a pomelo?
Or tomatoes?
An oyster -- with salt?

Will she be here?
Will he hear her here?
Will her footfall part the grass?
Will he glide above it?
Will they dance there?
Or simply stand and stare there?

Where will you be…
In my dream?
Will you still be there?
Or will you have gone…
To leave a fading sepia memory?

RESONANCE

The word RESONANCE comes from two Latin words meaning “echo” and “to resound”. It essentially refers to the quality or state of being resonant, a sound produced by sympathetic vibrations.

It occurs from the sounds we make everyday, for instance. The ringing quality of the human voice when produced in such a way that the vibration of the vocal cords is accompanied by sympathetic vibrations in the air spaces in the head, chest and throat.

If you ever took voice lessons, one of the challenges is to “feel” the sound within your body.

If you have ever felt love in your heart, somewhere the things you say are no longer sounding alone as they vibrate against and with another’s heart sound.

In medicine, the word is used to refer to the sound of the pumping of blood through the heart.

Does medicine still look for the soul or the deeper pain of the heart? It is something on my mind so often….how can my heart continue to beat when it is crushed so vigorously or when it is growing to be happy. Can it be crushed or does it just feel that way? Is it allowed to be happy?

Using the word resonance in the world of physics, you would be referring to the vibration that occurs when an object or system is made to oscillate at its natural frequency.

Oh to remember what it is to move naturally in a world of devices and contrivances and fear and dangers.

In chemistry, we use the word to mean the moment electrons from one atom of a molecule move to another atom of the same molecule to form a stable structure called a "resonance hybrid".

This is where two different and solitary hearts and souls join for split seconds or lifetime partnerships -- whether like lead and gold melding together to form the stronger of the two as one new one hyper element -- or where two hearts touch and bond, clinging together to be some new entity for however the moment or eternity lasts.

When the term is used in the world of physics, it means the increased probability of a nuclear reaction when the energy of an incident particle or proton is around a certain value appropriate to the energy of the compound.

Just like when two unlike and unlikely people meet and start banal chat only to discover the stirring of one incident particle appealing to the other. There could be a nuclear reaction perhaps?

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A new resonance reality is creeping into my heart, created from the way I see a new heart before me. This heart is:

Complicated
Intricate
Delicate
Strong
Well-Defined
Artistic
Romantic

A heart of strong and huge contrast in a world where so little of what exists seems real or layered and exciting…or something. But another wounded heart -- perhaps too closely like mine.

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Especially in the real world.
Reality in the unreality of the virtual world
Seems sometimes more real than reality…
How could this be?

Thank you, I say with tears in my eyes, flowing freely with joy mixed and mingled in resonance with my overarching fear.

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Now I force my hands to stop
For the moment
Bricking up the hole
Somehow left open still

Slowly,

Knowing/hoping
The tomb of my heart
That would protect me
From the gashes
That will slowly bleed me dry
Will allow some drying
And healing sunshine in
As he looks at me.

As the dancing and collars
Continue to spin around me.

I may regret the past
And the many mistakes I have made…
I tremble so often and too much in the present,

But it is the future
That sometimes paralises me
With misplaced hope.

Yet place it one more time again,
I must.

Have mercy on me….

Complicated Woman

They say I am difficult....or that I attract drama....well it could just be that I am only a complicated woman. (/me grins and winks)

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from Real Street by Mark Sholtez

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Give her what she wants don’t mean that
She still won’t be difficult
Over and over is never enough
It’s never black and white, day and night, give and take
Nothing to hide behind, no rules that you can bide by

Took in every word don’t mean you
Understand a thing you heard
Always forever could mean you’ll never
It’s better day and night, black and white, give and take
It don’t come easily. I know it definitely

But she’ll get inside your head
And move some things around in there
And she’ll know she’s got you hypnotized
When all you do is smile

Oh listen to me man
There’s no reason for us to pretend
No way we’re ever gonna understand
The complicated woman

Don’t know there’s a problem could be
All of what the problem is
There’s no prevention for her intention
It’s never give and take, day and night, black and white
You’ll be the last to know
That’s just the way that love goes

But she’ll get inside your head
And move some things around in there
And she’ll know she’s got you hypnotised
Fallin’ from the sky
When all you do is smile

Oh listen to me man
There’s no reason for us to pretend
No way we’re ever gonna understand
The complicated woman

Smile ‘cause you’re blinded by
The way she loved ya
Every other Tuesday at nine
But I’m sure you’ll find
That it’s been some time

Oh listen to me man
There’s no reason for us to pretend
No way we’re ever gonna understand the complicated woman
Oh listen to me man
There’s no reason for us to pretend
No way we’re ever gonna understand
The complicated woman