scraps
September 19, 2016 § 4 Comments
As the rhythm of my days adjust to accommodate new routines, I’m noting unfinished scraps of scribbles. To keep them safe for another day and to honor an authenticity in the timelines of my reflections, I’ve decided to publish fragmented musings. The notes to myself you might find hurriedly scrawled on napkin corners or store receipts tucked haphazardly in the messy nooks of my distraction.
Sometimes they are notes of gratitude in a moment of sentiment:
There are people we carry with us our entire life, those who hold us to a place we never fully leave and allow us to be a little more ourselves. Keepsakes of self too often shuffled beneath the responsibilities of the day, the frenzied busyness that interrupts our mindfulness. Fragmented memories scattered to the far corners of our attention, but held present in trust by guardians of the past.
Other times they are an observation on the obvious:
In change so much of what we know is reconfigured into another image of familiarity. It is a yawning accommodation that pulls our thoughts beyond our expectations to allow for something unknown. It is an invitation to make space for discomfort, to clear the energy that surrounds uncertainty of invisible limitations.
Then, there are the longer ramblings of partial truths and play. A piece of a story out of order:
Sometimes I want to say your name out loud, just to hear the sound. So much of our truth is lost in old lines of misplaced time, stolen moments from years past that linger in distracted memories. You are ever here, even in your absence. A ghost of something I cannot speak even as I fight to forget. How is it that two people can know so little and be certain of so much? To be eternally connected and forever apart. To choose, consciously another path, without ever wandering.
Mismatched and messy, I’ve lost the threads of thought that bound them to my words. Here, however unfinished, they are part of a larger whole.
scribblechic 
Most certainly not mismatched Marie, they are all tied to those ‘connections’ that we make to find ‘us’, those ways we find to express just who we are, that ability to find our truth within.
The first is very profound…it is those that we carry with us ‘to allow us’ that ability to just be ourselves, and find that love within, that love we seek all of our lives.
A beautiful share of a hearts journey, it is a privilege to see that in your words, thank you 🙂
What a lovely perspective, Mark. I love that you read connections to an internal recognition of an authentic self.
The muse is fickle, isn’t she? We have to capture it before she whisks it away to another taker:).
So true and rightfully so. Sometimes I will see a familiar idea in another’s hand and think, “there you are!” Mostly I’m grateful for all the beautiful bits that add a little magic, however fleeting.