Archive for August, 2010


…creeping in,
My old friend.
I know your games, but
I don’t
Wanna play them this time.
Won’t let me
Lose my mind.

Gotta know
What’s for real
This thing I feel

Something new or
Something old
Something brave
And something bold…

Or will you leave me
Feeling cold?

I feel you getting under my skin,
Begging me to let you in;
Trying to make me
Lose myself…
But not this time, my friend.


Fight vs. Flight

Logically, people would assume that “fight vs. flight” is easy to understand. “Fight” means a confrontation, while “flight” means avoidance. I’ve been reading and thinking tonight, and I don’t think that’s true.

I’ve been told before that I’m the kind of person who lights up a room. People want to be around me. I’ve been wondering what it is about me that inspires that in people. Maybe it’s as simple as my smile. Maybe it’s because I know when to talk, and when to listen. Maybe it’s because I know how to watch people and know what they are feeling. Maybe it’s because they see me as a strong person, and they want a bit of that strength.

But I know that I’m not always strong. I’m human, like anyone else. I can bear a burden heavier than most, and I usually play the game of self-sacrifice, putting the needs of others before my own. But even I know my limits, and I know how to set up boundaries to keep people from taking too much.

Fight vs. Flight.

I prefer to avoid confrontation, but I will fight when needed. When that time comes, I am a force to be reckoned with. Still, avoiding confrontation has never felt like it was the same as running away. So, in the literal sense, if someone decided to pick a fight with you, got up in your face, and you turned and ran, that would definitely be flight. That’s not what I do. If someone, metaphorically, got up in my face, I would stand and face them, waiting for the first blow so I could launch my attack. Actually, that’s what I would do if that literally happened to me too. Back to metaphors… If I saw a situation that had the potential to become a confrontation, and took measures to avoid such a situation, is that the same as running away? I think not. In fact, I think it’s just another way to fight. You are taking active steps to avoid a negative situation. You are preparing yourself for any number of scenarios, and taking the best route possible.

I am a fighter. I have been to the brink of death and back, sometimes without a single helping hand. Taking a helping hand is not the same as being weak. Asking for a helping hand means you know your limits, and you know what you need, and when to ask for it. Letting someone else share your burdens does not mean you are running away. Not asking for help doesn’t mean you are fighting.

Oh, and this little article, and the article it’s based on, helped to shape my thoughts:

Stream of Consciousness: Peace, be still.

“Listen to all the teachers in the woods.  Watch the trees, the animals and all living things – you’ll learn more from them than from books.”
Joe Coyhis, Stockbridge-Munsee


Why am I afraid to meet new people? I am afraid of being judged. Like J. Alfred Prufrock, I can feel their eyes on me, pinning me in place like an insignificant bug to to be studied. Why do the bugs hide where none can see, quietly singing their songs to the day? They stick to their own kind, hidden away, safe. If they ventured forth, they might be squashed, or attacked, or eaten.

They hide, but still they sing. They want to be heard. Gentle, they sing, so not to give away their position, but the message is there all the same. They offer up their songs to the air, where it mingles with the other songs of nature–those sung by birds, trees, breezes, and waters. Even we sing, though we do not notice. We offer up the laughter and play of children, the mirth of love, the rumble of cars and shutting of doors. To hear the ever-changing cadence of the earth, one only has to be still, and listen.

What is the message? “Peace! Be still. All is well, and how it should be.” Indeed, if you’ve stopped long enough to hear it, then you already knew. My life is filled with the hustle and bustle of children,work, and school, so often I forget–

“Peace, be still,” the cadence repeats. I learned this, someday long passed, spent by the banks of my grandfather’s pond, listening to the song of the crickets and bull frogs on a starlit night, wondering if I’d ever find the “Seminole Wind”. There among family, we were all one, and one with nature. We offered our song of laughter and fellowship, and she answered us with her song of peace. The moon smiled and the stars danced. I sat, entranced, and never will I forget that wonder, until my dying day.

Chains of Freedom

no one left who cares
no one spares
a single thought for me–
finally free.

no one to love,
no one to hurt,
None to criticize,
or make me feel like dirt.

I’m gonna run,
Live like a Gypsy–
Far from home,
Finally Free.

Start a new life,
One without strife….
none to know the real me;
all will know my mask.

What’s the point of honesty,
if “true love” never lasts?


Mark now where the demon sits;
It matters not what brought him here.
The tempest now shall fall upon us,
Plaguing the ones you hold dear.