Maybe the biggest roller coaster ride you'll ever have is your own birth. At the end of this miraculous process, there you are; everyone usually seems overjoyed, touched to tears by the miracle of you, whoever you are, whatever family you end up belonging to. It's the luck of the draw.
Whatever happens to you from that point of sublime innocence leaves indelible footprints on the mysterious you. You're open to learning, and you learn from your caregivers; their experiences and lives influence yours, in a chain that can be kind and good, or conversely, really tough to deal with. It's all the adventure of living. |
Thoughtful people question their place in life. Sometimes they stuff their questions down into their deepest core, wanting things to be right for them; knowing things aren't. Societal pressures and the wish to be obedient loom huge for them. But when you reach a rotten apple core, do you munch on it? That is a question many have to face.
I can't show you a picture of our guest contributor today, because she writes under her pen name, crazyhorseladycx. But I love that she's here, writing in her own inimitable way, sharing her love of nature's beauty, and questioning in a way that brings the light onto a topic many try to stuff down into the core.
I can tell you she has a ranch in New Mexico that keeps her busy. She loves nature, her mustangs and other horses. She's had very major health challenges. She has a huge kind heart, and I adore her straight-up writing, and the fact she loves plants and what's in the sky as much as I do!
Here's CrazyHorseLadyCX!
The paths that we’ve traveled lead us to where we are now, at this point in time. By all means, they helped to formulate us into who we are today. But, they don’t always define who we really are.
The masks that one dons to appease the needs, wants ‘n desires of others shroud our inner self. It’s there, sometimes lyin’ dormant, as if deep in winter's slumber. How does one reawaken one's true self? Where’s that moment in time where we choose yet another path? Or, do we just sit on our haunches ‘n watch silently as time continues to go by? Suffocated by the madness of it all. |
Takin’ great delight in such magical wonders of Mother’s Earth's bounties, I find myself in this place. One of indecision ‘n that weighs most heavy ‘pon my mind, heart ‘n soul. The longin’ of sheddin’ my winter coat ‘n blossomin’ tends to o’erwhelm. Is it e’en possible fer this ugly ducklin’ to transform into a beautiful swan? Perhaps too many fairy tales recalled from youth. A distant dream of standin’ high ‘bove ‘n watchin’ as life unfurls.
The scent of lilac fills the breezy air with the most delicate of perfumes. I stand in awe at the wee ‘n single bloom on the almond tree. Not a tree at all, its growth so thwarted with many years of drought. It’s merely a shrub of sorts, but I take delight at its perseverance as I see it strugglin’ to come up from the roots, that lone original branch puttin’ forth that delicate pink flower to touch my heart. It speaks to me somehow. Maybe a sign of its ‘ppreciation fer not givin’ up on it jest yet. Perhaps it’s tellin’ me not to give up on me jest yet either.
Clear white blossoms of the Bradford pear called out ‘n I obliged. Spendin’ hours in the darkness watchin’ as dawns early light beckoned ‘em to open. Sunny yellow flowers one can’t help but smile, the gift of the gooseberry bushes. Near magenta blooms on the soul survivin’ Flowerin’ Crab Apple amid those burgundy leaves.
I watched as the maple trees bloomed ‘n then took great pleasure in their transformation. First from wee flowers akin to the tiniest of sunflowers, then delicate seedpods hangin’ gracefully from high limbs. Then witnessin’ the openin’ of leaves, those which’ve always reminded me of baby monkey hands.
Apple blossoms hangin’ low in swaths, exemplifyin’ their defiance to the harshness of the latest cold spell. Deeps pink buds openin’ to near pure white, their dainty stamens awaitin’ the visit from bees ‘n other pollinators. They cascade ‘cross ‘n appear to dance in the breeze, swayin’ to ‘n fro. It mesmerizes the senses, one could get lost in such beauty.
I struggle to figure out how to remove my own winter coat. To be awakened from this cocoon I feel I’ve been confined to fer too many years. I’m not sure I’m gonna like my real self. Perhaps she’ll carry too much baggage ‘n her views too skewed?
I hope that she’s great wings of flight ‘n soars high with the eagles…I hope one day to no longer bear the mask of this masquerade.
The past may dictate who we are, but we get to determine what we become. Unknown