For no better reason than a love of King Crimson: the title of today’s blog is “Confusion will be my Epitaph.”

Sunset over Berry Park

I am in a foul mood this evening for this walk.  And for some reason my troubles do not melt away as I walk.  There were at least four large feathers on the ground throughout the almost 5 mile walk.  I also saw a great blue heron flying over the watershed, and then a few minutes later heard loud squawking and saw two or three small red wing blackbirds chasing it or another heron away from another part of the swampy waters upstream from the large pond.  After a bit the pirate texts me and I am still so annoyed I say something snarky.  It isn’t his fault I am annoyed, I know this as I head past this small yard with perennials just absolutely overflowing on both sides of the sidewalk.  I breath, I feast my eyes, I stop and enjoy.

I realize that I am still carrying the heavy burden of the way my husband treated me, and how he left me, abandoned me.  The emotional weight of all those years of not being good enough make me stress so much about such stupid silly things.  I see and recognize that I do this but it doesn’t change the facts.  I know the truth for myself, but I struggle with maintaining sometimes a sense of it.  It is as though I am that tempered steel sword, but sometimes I am still feel like I am just a chunk of iron, weighty and brittle and blunted.  The way sometimes people I care about still don’t get the weight of this iron, and they chastize me for it with a bitterness and impatience that adds to my desire to withdraw into the solitude of my own companionship.  I am beleaguered my own internal voice that tells me, look at what inferior metal you are made of, how can you ever hope to be sheathed by some good knight?  Or is it the voice of my the ex telling me pretty much that I am common, and genetically inferior, and can never measure up to any of his expectations.  I tell my friend these things, he seems to understand, and also he tells me with such a kindness, that in almost 30 years of service in our schools, I am the only TRUE friend he has ever made.  I feel honored, and I also feel the weight of this truth.  Even my ex called me charming and lovely as he told me he was leaving me.  But what good is all this goodness?  And why is all this suddenly here again when it has not been on my mind at all for so many weeks and months?  Why now?  Why is this on me now?  Why does it weigh on me so today?  I wish I knew, I wish I could treat it like so much fluff and just blow it all away.

My cousin, her husband and their two little girls spent the day with us today.   To be with my family, I feel cozy and fit right in, but then when they leave I am left with the failure of my own to secure love, to feel secure in the ways of the pirate, which confuse me, and leave me frustrated, not just for my confusion, but also for the long signs I ignored with my husband, the signs I painted neon and lit up when I realized so I would never miss them again.  It isn’t about anticipation, or patience is it?  I ask myself, this is all so new but here we are, if he doesn’t make time to be with you he doesn’t really give a rat’s behind about you. Yes this is where I am as I inhale the warm smell of whatever this blue flower with the spikey heads and fragrant leaves.  No matter how many times I ask God to please take over for me, my heart, it still beats in my own chest, I cry a little as I walk, I grieve for my own innocent pleasure in loving another human being.  I am not sure I can ever be so innocent again.  It is so painful to be in this state.

I tell the pirate sweet dreams.  I wish I could kiss him goodnight.   But still I feel foul.  My spirit is not broken but it also is like the heron, squawking and forced out of the shallows by the small attacks of other birds.  Finally I get a text from my cousin.  We all spent the weekend eating spoonfuls of pickled garlic, and she tells me in a text that her car smells like garlic ASS, and that her husband is not too happy about it since he didn’t eat any of the garlic.  I start to laugh.  (I always say things smell like ASS or taste like ASS), I laugh aloud for an entire block of my long walk I laugh and laugh, we go back and forth, I am trying to text and walk at the same time and stub my toe.  She warns me about texting and walking and then it is her turn to laugh as I inform her of my injury which I do not once but three times stubbing the same toe on the pavement.  Ok.  I may be troubled by this mind of mine that seeks always for understanding of the deep meaning and a constant exploration of the mysteries of this long journey I have been put on, but here in the laughter the worries become fluff and they are softly blown away.


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