Putting in the Work

I take various medications in order to manage my Diabetes (6 oral and 2 subcutaneous). I also try to watch what I eat and am working to change my mental model on exercise. I also take time to breathe and consider what is happening in my life. I need to know what is causing me stress and how to address it at any given time. Well, all of us do, really.

My go to method for handling the stress in my life was to binge eat, feel guilty, and then fall into a spiral. With the onset of my Diabetes, this was a problem. Carbohydrates metabolize into sugar. Sugars are my problem – one of many.

When I think of Diabetes in general, I feel fear (which leads to anger, which leads to hate, which leads to suffering). I’m told that the pain of it all is inevitable, but suffering is optional. I’m also told that the only way to resolution is through.

You see, the obstacle is the pathway to success. Today’s results show that I’m on the right path and doing the right things.

It’s not just a matter of taking the medications, eating right, and exercising (body, mind, and spirit). It’s also having a strategy of when to take the meds, how much of what to eat, and making the time for what I’m going to call functional motivation.

A simple change in when I take my evening medications over the last two days have yielded incredible results. I’m within the range of where I’m supposed to be. I’ve not been overeating because I am recognizing boredom versus hunger. If I have a bad result, I know it’s going to be temporary as I work to get back on track.

I may get stuck in a mood of desperation. It is likely to happen more sooner than later. I’ll be in that dark place where I feel pitiful and my ego takes over. This is where I have to rely upon my training and education rather than reacting.

Having Diabetes (or any other chronic condition) can be taxing (emotionally, physically, mentally, FINANCIALLY!), and will have unique challenges to each individual. For me, I have to keep going on this particular pathway until something better is developed or discovered.

It is up to me to put in the work in order to maintain and improve my skillset in handling the disease. It is just like everything else we’ve all gone through. It takes work to be better.

I can do it.

I am worth the work.

Diabetic First

It’s been a couple of days without an insight or piece of fiction. My meager hit count is affected if I do not post something at least daily.

Such is the way of the internet and groups and tribes.

I’m finding that I need to focus on some things outside of this digital realm that I seem to inhabit. I need to be out in the real world to deal with meat problems. I need to ensure that the body I’m riding in lasts for a good bit longer than expected. In short, I need to refocus my work and handle my Diabetes.

I don’t know what that’s going to do to my fledgling career as an independent writer. I don’t know what my refocus is going to do at all. I have hopes though. I have hopes that I will find a way to keep going. I have hopes that I will become healthier in body, mind, and spirit. I have hopes that I will not be dead in 10 years.

Diabetes is a disease of attrition. It’s a slow death. It kills a kidney, then perhaps an eye. Maybe it’ll take a toe, then the foot, and so on.

Mentally, I’m ill prepared to keep a fight like that going on. Physically, I’ve been letting it happen for far too long. It’s been six and a half years since I was diagnosed. All that’s happened is I’ve been exposed to a litany of medications and have gained about 25 pounds(ish). I’ve dieted, and half-heartedly exercised. I’ve started, stopped, started, and stopped again for a variety of reasons.

The important factor here is that it is my body and my disease. Many are like me, but this one is mine.

What I mean to say is that Diabetes affects people differently. Each of us has different symptomologies and different physiologies. Each of us can do different things to battle the disease with different results. The one thing that is the same across the board is that we have to put our health first.

This is not always easy. My current battle is about the self and convincing myself that I am worth it.

The scotoma I’m having is the step where the exercise is not a chore – it’s a choice. It’s a decision to live versus sitting in decay (literally). It has to become part of the overall plan to establish that I am worth the work I’m putting in at the gym.

It’s not always going to be tight pants and uncomfortable shirts. It’s not always going to be seven pills in the morning, three at dinner, and a nighttime shot in the gut. It’s not always going to be the finger twitches and tingling. It’s not always going to be the overwhelming urge to eat.

Nothing is permanent. Darkness comes and then the light of dawn follows. The afternoon wanes and then twilight falls. It is cyclic.

The fact of the matter is that the disease I’m fighting comes with baggage. There are mental issues that destroy confidence. There are chemical issues that cause hunger. There are neurological issues that cause pain. The wavelengths of each of these vary.

Some days are better than others. Some days I can see the ego for what it is. I can see it crying over there in the corner about strapping on the sneakers and getting to the gym. Some days the whiney bitch wins. I can hear the pleas and mews for something to binge on. I can feel the rumbling in my gut. Well, what I think is rumbling, anyway. Mostly it’s boredom.

It’s now that I need to focus on, not the past failures or future successes. What can I do at this moment to ensure my success? What is it that needs to change in this instant? What is in my sphere of control in my immediate surroundings?

I know all of this sounds too familiar and formulaic. That’s because it is. The issues I’ve been facing is that I let myself get off script. I succumb to the soft and lumpy ego instead of understanding that in 15 minutes, that crybaby will probably forget what it wanted.

So, yeah, reinstating the fact that I am Diabetic first – all else has to become secondary.

Blind Urges

No mirror can reflect what is bound by love.

We are mere blindfolded phantoms yearning for warmth.

Intent

A once mirrored love, shattered and broken.

A mere phantom of what could have been.

Now murderous.

Redemption and Forgiveness

What does redemption look like?

Is it a hidden smile?

Is it an obvious nudge?

Is it a knowing nod with a finger placed alongside your nose?

I think it looks like peace.

It is the wonder of living in the moment. It is an unfettered walk where clotted clouds can be noticed, appreciated, and left to their own devices.

Or the belief and true knowledge that we are never alone despite the darkened paths we find ourselves walking. It is more than faith. It is acknowledgement and acceptance.

Beyond that, it is the alluring ability to show compassion and forgiveness to ourselves as well as to those who have allegedly trespassed upon our delicate egos. It is being true to yourself, your true self, the one that is often hidden from you except for the most silent moments, without allowing the corruption of emotional impact to adjust our vision.

It is recognizing that in silence and contemplation, every one of us can be aware of our ties to each other. Every one of us can see how the other ones lives. Every one of us can be that best version of ourselves and shine in purity.

Moreover, redemption allows us to see that we have overcome great obstacles that impeded our progress towards a greater knowledge of ourselves. It is that understanding that allows us move beyond the trappings, real or imagined, and just be.

Blue Shift

I see the energy and life
I see the movement in strife
I see the ebb and flow
I see stars and know

It's not the destiny we were handed
It is how we fly until we've landed
We're the slaves to time and space
And in the end, lost to grace

The blue shift rises coming towards
Blanketing us on radiant subtle shores
Darkness falls bringing morning dew
And on the morrow, I'll be seeing you

Changing scale as we need
Watching broken flesh bleed
Bones scattered on burnt ground
Shaping each unto the other around

Scribbling and marking on walls
Building and stumbling through halls
Fantasy beleaguering our mind
Not allowing us to know and find

The blue shift rises coming towards
Blanketing us on radiant subtle shores
Darkness falls bringing morning dew
And on the morrow, I'll be seeing you

Not Enough

I'm told that I'm smart.
Intelligence not enough.

I'm told I have talent.
Talent isn't enough.

I'm told I have creativity.
Creativity is not enough.

I'm told to follow my dreams.
Dreaming is not enough.

No one told me about the black mass of squirming doubt. No one told me that I would have to build my own scaffolding. No one told me I would be alone in the crowd. No one told me I would be fighting myself along with the world at large.

The pattern is clear.
Pattern recognition is not enough.

The feeling is tangible. 
Feeling is not enough.

The words are there.
Words are not enough.

The darkness closes in.
Darkness is not enough.

Tribe of Bat

My tribe seems to continually evolve.

Sometimes that brings me a bit of melancholy because I miss the connections that I used to have. I miss the in-jokes and the laughs. I miss the familiarity and the comfort that came from well-established connections. In truth, it gives me pause to try to build up a new tribe from similar seeds.

It is a fact though, that if I do not establish a new tribe, I will die in stagnation. My thoughts will be untested and my understanding will be lax. Without a new infusion of energy, my own flame will extinguish without as much as a sigh.

Meeting people and connecting with them isn’t that difficult, but to transform that connection into a friendship, that’s the rough part. I am wary of new people. My trust isn’t just freely offered anymore. I weigh and evaluate whether or not I want this new person in my life. I have to read their energy to see if it’s compatible with my own.

So, for those of you who are in my tribe, please understand that the placement is deliberate. It is special to me and reverent.

Humility

In shadow alone

Sitting in silent wonder

Shadow of the moon

Masqued

I saw her there at the masquerade in shimmering black in a pale sequined mask. It was her eyes that captivated me more than anything else. She moved smoothly across the floor as gentlemen, one after another came to her and humbly asked for her card. Sometimes she obliged, other times, she politely informed the poor soul that she was otherwise engaged.

Still, the vision of her haunted me. It was as if an inky shadow was swirling across the hall, waltzing into frenzy whilst commanding the room. The surroundings seem to dim around her. She was the sole light amidst Belgian crystal chandeliers. Such was her charisma.

The quartet, high above the floor, seemed to take their cue from her. The strings vibrated at her command. The tenor and pace seemed to match her movements. When she spun the rhythm matched. As she bounced through her flourish, strings sighed.

I watched her from various places in the hall. Her eyes often locked with mine in a not-so-subtle contest. I could almost feel her energy from across the floor. As she changed partners, so did I. We were becoming entangled through some spiritual connection.

Each of us dancing with others, but with each other at the same time, yet only the two of us knew. All else faded as the evening wore on. The yaw and pitch of the strings let us sail in matched pairs in tighter circles. I could feel the energy building between us.

The scent of her perfume drifted towards me as we passed each other back to back. It was of orange blossoms and musk. I saw her lips turn upwards as we both managed a sideways glance. I could only wonder what lay behind the mask.

Her eyes were mesmerizing. Her smile was coy and blissful. Her cheekbones were high and her nose thin. Her creamy face formed a perfect oval. Still, she was partnered with someone else and by all means untouchable.

Long silken gloves crawled along her arms from her fingertips to above her elbows. They held impeccable form as she glided around with her partner. I would even suggest they might have been dainty.

The lace collar she wore around her neck held a cameo that hung down on her chest above the suggestion of a plunging neckline. It bounced slightly as she turned and moved along with the music coming from the quartet.

Oh, to be that cameo, to touch that tender skin.

I envied that piece of jewelry to be able to be so close to her. At once I understood Shakespeare’s balcony scene. I knew the reason why fair Romeo did not crawl up the trellis and take Juliet. I found myself eager to orbit this mysterious beauty.

My eyes couldn’t help but watch her as my own partner looked away to observe the others on the floor. There, near the entrance was the consort to the Tsar of Russia. Along the wall, aloof as ever, was one of the minor ministers to Queen Christina of Sweden. Other dignitaries stood, wine in hand marveling at us who were on the dance floor. In her arms though, Gabriel Bethlen, Hungarian Prince of Transylvania.

His full beard and distinguished nose could not be hidden from behind the mask that he wore. I held my breath when I saw the mercenary king hoping that no one would notice that I discovered him through his disguise. A sidelong glance between my beauty and I told me that she knew of my secret knowledge.

Hurriedly, I guided my partner away from the couple. Somehow, she maneuvered herself and Bethlen towards us. I turned immediately away blessing the quickened pace of the music. The jangle of the strings allowed me to move surreptitiously, yet overtly away from my former lusting interest and her murderous king.

Soon, to my dismay and fear, I felt the hand on my shoulder. It was firm and sure. I looked up and saw the bearded face part in a wicked smile. I had no choice but to trade partners. There we were together, I and my goddess in pitch-colored silk and lace. Her eyes brought me in and we took each other in tune to the music echoing down from above.

The orange scent of her filled my nostrils. The touch of her hand sent chills down my arm. My heart seemed to beat in time with her bouncing cameo that was tapping out a sublime rhythm. Moments ago I would have been happy to have been lost in my proximity to her.

Now, knowing the Blood Prince was in attendance, I could only think of the standing army of mercenaries and how Bethlen was destroying the Peace of Vienna as well as the Habsburg alliances. I could only guess at the true reason for his presence.

Were his mercenaries in the city? Was he planning another attack? Was he pushing to expand his territory? My mind reeled with the possibilities.

I was caught now. She held me tightly as I led us in a slow circle around the edge of the dance floor. She cocked her head as shook it slightly. There was to be no escape from her clutch. Silken hands held my body strong. Hypnotic eyes brought me closer.

She leaned up to me and brought lips to my ear. I could barely contain myself as the strong scent of orange and musk filled me. I could almost taste her intent. My hands trembled in hers.

“You were not to find out, my darling.” Her words were sweet and thickly accented. She sounded like Romani but held herself as royalty. Competing impulses crashed like waves over my mind. I wanted to bring her closer to breathe her in, yet I knew that she would be my end if I stayed.

I felt the pinprick too late in my arm. Her eyes locked into mine and conveyed the lust I so wanted to be near. As my feet shuffled against the beat, I felt her take the lead and guide me off of the dance floor. She sat me down in an overstuffed chair and brought my hand to her face.

My heartbeat slowed. I couldn’t feel my arm anymore. Still she stayed with me. The only vision left in my mind was her face and her lovely sequined mask hiding an assassin’s guise.

Companions

When I write, they are with me. When I don’t write, they are nearby.

Cloud is a special needs cat. She is shell-shocked and still doesn’t allow anyone to pick her up out of the blue. There has to be a stint of long calm if that is to happen. She has to be laying down, near sleep (or asleep) for her to allow me to pick her up.

She’s a curious cat and wants to have all the doors open. Sometimes she hollers at me to open the window blinds so she can see outside either that, or to open the front door. She loves to have her nose rubbed, but only in certain circumstances where she cannot see your face so close to hers.

I wish I knew what happened to her to make her so skittish. I wish I could take away her pain from the past. The only way I can do that is to be here for her now, to . her that all people aren’t as evil as the ones she’s encountered in the past.

Boots is our silent one. She either doesn’t know how to meow or there is something wrong with her vocal chords to not allow her to do so. Although she makes a queer sound when it comes to the wet food. It’s an odd chattering,‘Ach-ach-ach-ACH!’

Sometimes she has an odd howling meow when it comes to carrying what my wife calls ‘her babies.’ Boots will carry the stuffed toys around the house and issue up a howling that is full of concern and demands attention. When we call her, she drops the toy and comes over to us.

For whatever reason, they have accepted us, probably because we have thumbs and feed them. They teach me to live in the moment despite what has happened. They teach me what is important. They teach me that the tiniest action can have an impact that shakes the world.

I think, for that last reason alone, I will always have an affinity for cats of all kinds. Especially the ones that have lived through severe challenges. They are the best teachers of Zen that I have been exposed to at this point.

They are truly the jewel of the lotus.

Strange Days

Pain is real today.

My heart aches for those who are suffering. It pains me to think of shell-shocked people just trying to eke by without hatred trying to ruin their lives. I cringe when I think of miscreant people vying for titles that once held honor. I am stultified to think that my people and culture could ever be once thought as ‘noble.’

I know I’m not in singular company in these thoughts. I am just one of those who accept the reality that there has been a denigration in what I thought ‘American’ was. I am ashamed of what we have become as a society.


Fear-mongering has become trade.
Ignorance has become export.
Violence has become industry.



Still, I sit in my small corner of the world wondering how it will ever end in peaceful resolution and knowing it will not. All I can do is try to understand the pain and let it pass through me in acknowledgment.

All I can do is try to make a better place in my sphere of control.

Here.

Now.

Yes, the pain is real today and a black cloud hovers over my mind in trying to accept that this will not last forever. There will be a time when we do not have to suffer the indigence of the falsified righteousness of barkers as they try to sway our attention from the midway.

One day we will be able to smile at the people trying to entice us into their way of thinking and simply say, “No, thank you anyway,” and move along in peace.  

Serendipity

The morning breaks with your scent mingled with coffee. Darkness fades with your sleepy smile. It is more than pheromones. It is more that caffeine.

It is the moment that all is right and all the suffering I've been through washes away. It is the sudden realization there is no past or future.

There is only now.

Considering Consumption

It's sometimes difficult to see the ways and means of our wanderings.

Often the path is winding and overgrown. There are valleys and hills. There are tunnels and bridges. The steel may be warped and the wood could be unstable. There are bends and lonley straightaways.

Still, if I allow myself to sit in great fear, I too will be become encased in mossy green only too happy to be disolved and consumed.

A Fleeting Moment

I saw her there out of the corner of my eye. A mere mote of dust shaped into a ghost.

Silent.

Slow.

Sentient.

Turning, she glanced at me as if to ask if I were coming along. What choice did I have, really?

From Stone to Flesh

In the past, I spoke about change and the difficulties that can arise from being stationary. I’ve detailed out how, I specifically, should be tuned to my surroundings and how I should notice when to contemplate and when to take action. I’ve written the words showing my understanding of the necessity of change and how it spawns evolution and breeds adaptability.

Yet, for the majority of this year, I have been metaphorically (and sometimes literally) sitting. Mainly, I’ve been sitting in indecision. I’ve been taking no action other than to think of the possible pathways. I’ve been aging in that time rather than learning.

There has been few words written. Those that have been are edits from the past. There has been little in the way of self-discovery. There has been less in ways and means of physical exercise (or mental for that matter) than there should have been.

Creatively, I’ve been dying a slow death trying to remember past greatness and wondering why these former accomplishments have not been able to move me forward. While it is good to use these past glories as stepping stones, one cannot hope to keep living on past accomplishments and still be moving forward.

Newness needs to be sought out. Not for newness’ sake, but instead for fresh ideas and viewpoints. Thought models and connections need to be experienced and made. In short, the path needs to be walked rather than by sitting.

It needs to be done despite want.

It needs to be done despite ego.

It needs to be done despite fear.

My sedentary lifestyle has infected my mind and has clogged me up. The day job is like many others, sedentary with multiple cycles of repetition. This, however should not be how I define myself.

Once again, I find that I have opened my eyes to find that months have passed by me without meaningful gain. I find that I have not progressed on former goals or have set new ones.

Instead of dedicating my life to the decision, I need to start to take action. This is part of it. This simple act of describing what I want is the first step. I know that I’ve been here at this first step for ages.

It is time to move the bag of bones and generate power.

#InternationalCatDay

Love in Sestet

In the summer’s wind and fire and subsequent floods and rain,
I sat with a weather eye and contemplated again.
It wasn’t disharmony nor with hatred or discord,
It was in light remembrance of a day we could afford
The blooming crush most unseen of lakes and sand and wetness.
I still see your smiling face from the shore chilled and breathless.

A hazy aura around reflecting the morning light
Could only be seen as truth, could only be seen as right.
We were there in that moment, not caring about the day.
It could be said of us then, “How now? The couple is gay,
And light and carefree. Ah youth!” Yet, I see the tremors now.
In use of retrospection, I see the ebb of time flow.

It came without warning then, planning to consume us all.
Bargaining was our defense against what held us in thrall.
I could not bear to give up. I chose not to see you die.
I had no other choice then, it was a matter of pride.
It was not about boredom, or the adventurous thoughts,
It was about survival. All could not be lost for naught.

My soul and service for trade is what bought our people life.
Still, I hold the memory hidden as I guide His strife.
Consumption and entropy: His tools for eternity
None, I’ve seen, can withstand Him, He has no fraternity,
Nor equal, nor master, He. His is a hunger constant.
What I do is for Zenn-La, for life, for love now dormant.

I shall not usurp control. I shall continue onward.
My destiny is written. The path will not be altered.
To keep you living in peace was the yoke I chose to bear
Yet here, alone in the stars, watching Him is a nightmare.
His furnaces burn out life burning, stinging and caustic
It only serves Him too well, death for the Power Cosmic.

Fate has shown me a new path. It has led me to power
Beyond what I should have known, beyond what should have flowered.
Its blooms holding worlds within and unknown realities
Without which I could not see how to change His expertise.
I have it now, the Gauntlet, embedded stones now shining.
I am the Master of Worlds, power bends to my pining.

Tethered no longer to Him, I succumb to you once more.
A happy recreation brings you again to the shore.
Shivering, smiling, and pale, I feel your warmth close to me.
Each holds onto the other in serene blissful ecstasy.
I know this is not a dream, my mind now ironclad,
You my Empress, Shaila-Bal, I your humble Norrin Radd.

Glass Wings

Glass wings shivering in anticipation
Meeting the new day with trepidation
Knowing what is needed in preparation
Flying lightly, as always, in exaltation

This.

This.

This is frustration. It is a culmination of not following the right actions. It is me being led by my ego. It is representative of gaining 3 pounds overnight. It is the (already learned) lesson not to eat an entire 15” pizza for lunch.

This is a blood glucose level of 247 mg/dL registered about a half-hour after taking my meds. This is the knowledge that I will be fasting for most of the morning to try to bring this back into balance.

This is my own fault.

This is the realization that I’ve taken two steps forward and one step back. This is the knowledge that I have to pick myself back up and move ahead. This is the face when I have to forgive myself for making the choice to blow off my health for the day. This is me getting back on track.

This is me being one of several people who have to repeatedly learn this lesson. This is all in the past and I need to not bring it into the future. This is me trying to recite a mantra of stern caring to myself. This is a gloriously human error and the realization that I have to do better for myself.

This is not most days.

This was want. This was egotism. This was a child acting in a man’s body. This is feeling normal when your body is sick. This is wrongful thought in action.

This is part of the darkness that I hold on to when there is little light to see by. This is the broken and stained pathway that I’ve traveled. This is the invisible shadows lurching into the light to drag me backwards.

This.

Seeing

What is it that you see?

Could it be the heresy that you choose to believe? Do you see the right things at the right time? Do you see through the obstacles? A way around them? Do you sit and ponder a different path in order to circumvent the problem?

I’m not sure what I see anymore. My life is fluid in its monotony. There are things that are changing within me, within my sphere of control, but overall society has not fostered what I am choosing to see.

I see the kindness in humanity through spoken word and prose. I also see the passions that are, from my point of view, somewhat misguided. I see powerful belief and piety. I also see the radical arms of these ideologies and how they can turn the common man into a venomous beast.

There is a median. Often it is tempered with silence and meditation. Often it is overlooked.

To many others red is simply red, blue is simply blue. The variations don’t seem to come up in these speeches and acts. We live in a world that has much variation and color, yet many leaders choose to only see a few of these colors.

Colorblind, they continue to build and collect like-minded individuals. They seize the control of hearts and minds. They are sure that theirs is the only solution. Theirs is the only true path towards resolution of conflict. Theirs is the only road to peace and enlightenment.

The spiderweb is cast and built along many lines. It is anchored from a variety of points. It is held together through tenacious work. Oftentimes, it is in partnership that a cluster of spiders succeeds in capturing larger prey.

For me, the same holds true for ideas. In working together, we can capture and explore larger ideas. We can compare ideals from different cultures and adapt and go forward. We can become better through discussion and understanding.

I see that there is a better way.