that's mrs. mediocrity to you

when i was a child i found a rock
that shone with flecks of gold

excited (and thinking it was real)
i ran to show it to my father

who gently explained (in the way
that fathers do) that it was not.

he told me the name of my pretty,
sparkly nugget and i was sorry.

worthless, he said, trying to explain
the difference between pyrite

and the gold that circled his finger,
and together we imagined the

disappointment of miners who surely
must have thought they struck it rich.

yesterday, i walked through a garden
that was not mine and stopped in the sun

to chat with a friend and (listening) i looked
down to discover chunks of my childhood

sparkling up at me and i smiled as i stooped
to pick up three pieces to give to her girls.

i told her the name and the story, and then
placed one last piece in my own pocket,

because these days, i am happy to believe
that there is far more value in this stone

that glitters just enough to remind me
of a long ago moment with my father

than there is in any amount
of the real thing.

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this post is part of dVerse poets Open Link Night, join us!

::

over this tree

in this year

with this man

beneath this sky

outside this house

savoring this moment

in this life

::

I’ve been thinking so hard lately that my brain hurts. Thoughts swirl around in my head until all I can hear is the howl of wind. I wish I could say that I’ve been thinking about something profound, but, no, just ordinary, everyday, very mediocre things.

Of course, there has been a lot to think about with all that is going on in the world. And while that has all been added to the mix, most of what’s been swirling around inside my brain is internal, what I should, or should not, be doing with my life kind of stuff.

It feels like one long experiment.

Of course, that is not necessarily a bad thing, it is precisely that constant change that keeps us on our toes. But you can only stand on tiptoe for just so long before your muscles start to ache. A little stability would be nice, I’m thinking. Perhaps some alignment would be good.

The other day, as I was whining to myself, it occurred to me that I have it all wrong. That no one, nowhere, ever said it would be easy. Or if they did, they were talking out both sides of their mouth. It wasn’t so long ago, in the history of man, that day to day life was simply a matter of survival. That all our time was spent hunting, gathering, defending, surviving. In fact, for some of us on this earth right now, that it still the way of it.

There is no easy button. We keep trying to find one, though. I see it everyday, everywhere around me, people searching for the magic that will make life perfect, or meaningful, or safe, or continuously happy.

But it doesn’t exist. Nothing will ever make every single moment of life perfect. There will always be bouts of wind and hail and sleet and rain to batter you as you try to put down roots, stand tall, keep growing. There may even be the occasional flood, or blizzard, or tornado. Those are the moments when you hang on for dear life, and if you make it through, when they are over, you are grateful just to be alive.

You straighten up, stand tall, reach for the sky.

Because the simple truth is that life is hard.

But also, it’s beautiful.

some days you have to peel back some skin
just to be certain who you are.

the pretty face you put on for the world
can only disguise so much

and then the mystery starts bleeding through
the edges, those places that are frayed

and torn, held together with yellow cellophane
no longer necessary to hold that old wound

together, but a comfort of habit just the same.
lift it away and your scars are revealed,

white-edged and deeper than anyone can guess,
even you. smooth planes are only for

the innocent, the unscathed, the empty-handed.
it’s the skeleton that always tells the real

story, dancing alone in the closet like a fool.
at night i can hear the wind whistling

through all the cracks and patches
in my heart, and every so often

the sound finds a way to mimic
the cut of yesterday’s knife.

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this post is part of dVerse poets Open Link Night, join us!

p.s. if you used to follow me through google friend connect,
please see the sidebar at right for new ways to follow.
google dropped the GFC widget for wordpress blogs,
and all of my followers were deleted.

It’s so lonely here these days…

On Wednesday, Google discontinued Google Friend Connect, and I didn’t find out until it was already deleted. So, for those of you who followed me from there, my blog will now be gone from your list. Apparently Blogger blogs still have the GFC feature, but since I am on WordPress, I do not.

If you like, you can manually add me into your Google Reader list
by using this url:

https://www.mrsmediocrity.com

And here are some other current ways to follow:

facebook

twitter

google+

I always put my posts up on facebook and twitter, and I am planning to start posting them on google+ as well.

There is also an RSS feed option in the “follow me” tab at the right.

If you have any other suggestions as far as how you prefer to follow blogs, please let me know.

I miss seeing all your little avatars on my sidebar.

::

I haven’t always have time to respond to comments, but I want
you to know how much I appreciate the fact that
you follow, visit, comment, support.

It means a lot.

xoxo

::

And letting be what is not.

The hardest part is deciding which is which. Choosing what to excise, considering what is worth keeping. It seems like it should be easy, no, simple. But if there is one thing I have learned in my almost 50 years of life, it is that very few things are simple.We want answers where none exist, permanence where there is only temporary, stability where there is only change. Constant, continual change.

It’s can be hard to keep up. Hard to let go of old habits and possessions and comforts. There is always the possibility that you will get it wrong. The potential for regret. I’m not a fan of regret.

And some of it comes down to actually attempting to change who you are. To overcome your own weaknesses and turn them into something resembling strengths. Part of me wonders if it is even possible. I am not an overly-organized sort of person, my desk is always, always a scattered mess of papers, I put paperwork off to the very last minute, I procrastinate about doing things that need, truly NEED, to be done.

There are smaller things in my life that have needed fixing for years. Literally years. Some days I stop and I wonder how this happens. The door that still doesn’t close quite right, the shower spout that needs replacing. The window I never open because the screen needs repair. These are all things I know how to do, yet, somehow, they never manage to be done.

All things I want to change, things I have attempted to change over and over again. And almost always, I have failed. Am I attempting the impossible? If I’m simply not wired to be a certain way, should I just live with the way things are?

Except. I’m not happy with the way they are.

So the quest continues. New resolutions are made. Habits are battled. The square peg that I am becomes a bit more worn around the edges, slowly evolving into roundness. Very slowly. Shape-shifting is a difficult thing.

Perhaps that is because deep down, I’m perfectly fine with being square. Actually, more than fine with it, glad of it.

However, the world I live in is round.

And so, I compromise. It seems to be a matter of survival. I learn as I go along, and hopefully don’t make the same mistakes too often. I struggle with my imperfections, my inability to be the kind of person I am not. I find ways to work around it, ways to be who I am and still live in the world that exists.

But it takes a lot of effort and energy and time. Time I would rather be spending otherwise. My aptitudes lie in other places. But I am realizing, as age chips away at the time I have left, that getting better at fixing and maintaining and discarding will, in the long run, give me more of the kind of time that matters.

I just have to keep working on sanding down those square edges, getting them to fit into the places I need to be, at least on the surface.

Of course, in my heart and my head, I will always be square.

And I will always be fine with that.

I can’t help it, it’s who I am.

i watched a seagull fly over a field of snow
and the word metaphor flashed through my mind
though i refused to take it any further
because all i really wanted to do was watch it fly.

by mid-afternoon the sun had melted all the snow
into a watershed running through my fingers
down over my toes and i thought that perhaps
i had imagined that shadow of white on white,

sun glinting off wings built for shores less frozen
but then (of course) i found a feather in my hair
that i am certain was as black as any raven’s
and the wind tore it from my grasp precisely

at that perfect, beautiful moment when
i recognized the color of hunger.

.

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this post is part of dVerse poets Open Link Night, join us!

::

don’t stop the rest

from growing.

::

Yesterday was a miasma of grey, and this morning I woke up to a sugar-coated winter wonderland, filled with the fresh scent that only comes with a newly-fallen snow.

I watch the sun rise from behind a crosshatch of bare branches, and a bluebird lands on a snow-capped birdhouse.

Just as quickly, he is gone.

By this afternoon, the glittery blanket will have melted back into earth. Just beneath the surface everything is shifting, changing, washing itself clean.

Everything in this life is fleeting, happiness and sadness, light and dark, sunshine and lilies. It all cycles through in its own good time, despite our best attempts to crack the code that will slow things down, or speed them up.

A lily will open when it is ready to fill the air with perfume. The sun will shine when it has finished talking to the clouds, your heart will find something to smile about when the weeping has run its course.

These are the truths that I have learned.

This morning I stand here breathing in the scent of snow and lily, trying to hold onto them even as I know that I must exhale.

But for a moment, my lungs are filled with light and love and aliveness.

And, of course, that is enough.

by dawn the stars have been forced behind the curtain
all sparkling chitter chatter must be silenced
as the boss man takes his place in the sky
defeating darkness inch by inch and
rapping at windows to prove his prowess

i shield my eyes and make wishes on pennies

rise to stand here sipping tea and folding laundry
feeling small and perfectly ordinary creating
order from chaos one shirt at a time living
always in the circle of my mind that glows in
patterns as rich as sunshine and at night

i simply try to remember the light

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this post is part of dVerse poets Open Link Night join us!