December, and the year is moving towards the end. So much has happened and yet, I am in the same place and doing the same things, and somehow, the year is about to change. I have seen more than my share this year. I have lived as much as I have died. But then again, this is life, which is what I always say. This is life. We live a little and we die a little.

The world is turning right now. So much is happening as we speak and yet, the oddness of being still or waiting for something to come can be enough to drive someone crazy.

I am on a train now. I am making my way to work and moving faster than I care to move. It is Monday and the morning has only just begun. I know that the day awaits me. I know there is work to be done, which makes today no different from any other day.

Sunrise, and the clouds have taken on the softness of color. I love mornings like this. Sort of pastoral, beautiful, and promising with colors that act like soft pastels which grace the bottoms of the scattered clouds. I can see the sunrise coming up from the east as it reflects against the faces of tall glass buildings in the city which is ahead of me. And yes, I call her mine. My city. She has seen me through growth spurts and moments of indecision. She has been with me during my bouts of confusion and disdain as well. Yet, she knows me well. My city.

I am sitting in a window seat, which is where I always sit. I choose to look out from the windows and see how the geography changes from suburban to urban. I can feel my body now, tired as ever, and my head needs more sleep. But rest is not on the menu for today. Not at all.

This is my place. This is my home and whether I’ve moved away or gone elsewhere to visit; I have been here my entire life. I have made my way into the city from one side or the other. I have moved as if to test the waters someplace else and I have come back again more than once. This means there is something here for me. There is something about my roots that offer me a fair share of comfort and healing. There is something caring and nurturing, like a homecooked meal that provides a sense of care that comes from nowhere else.

Like Mother, the greatest healer of all time. The Mother protects, and the demons deflect. But me, I have enough demons to know that nothing comes from dancing with the devil. I am finding out that there are pros and cons to all things, —including the beams of light which come from the heart of my own truth. And as for my truth, I have been cut by the blade of my double-edged sword.

There is no fixing or changing the unwanted craziness of everyday life. And nor is there a way to change anything beyond our control. This is true. And, next, I think about the history or the remnants of my everyday life. I think about the attachments that I failed to let go of. I think about the degradation that comes with the anxious attachments that changed the way I viewed people or assumed the worst.

It’s time to let go. And I’ve heard people say this. “Just let it go!” But how? The mind does what the mind does.

Same as mourning or sad losses and the emotions that come; all things take time. Healing takes time. Awareness takes time. And me? I suppose I take time as well.

It takes me time to understand. And it takes time for me to let go. It takes time for me to process the lessons I have learned, and yes, it takes time for me to heal.

And memories? Memories can lie. And memories can be a bitch, when you can’t shake them. More importantly, memories can sting or dig in our flesh with a bittersweetness and often, memories can linger and hurt us on more of a long term spectrum . . .if we allow them to.

All things take time. Some learn faster. Some learn at different levels or in my case, I need to find different ways to relate to information so that I can retain what I have learned. But otherwise, I learn slowly. However, and in all fairness, all things are relative so thus; I can say that my levels of understanding are relative to me. All things take time. Or, like any cut or scrape or bruise, some things heal faster and some things heal slowly.

I take a breath to notice that the sky is beautiful. We are moving closer to a special time of year. I am not one for the holiday season. Yet, this is the time of year when I experienced my first big loss.

This was the time when I said goodbye to my Father, The Old Man. December 29, 1989. This was the first time I learned about mortality and that yes, even heroes die, regardless of how much we love them or need them in our lives.

Life happens and the clock is always ticking. The Earth is moving far quicker than we think.

And as for now – I am older than I used to be. Then again, we all are. I am older and yet, I am more eager now than when I was younger. I am also hungrier and more hopeful to go and feel or be someone spectacular.

I want to feel the warmth of the sun on my face. I want to hear the waves as they fold upon the shore. I want to feel that special hand in mine and realize that same as the ocean is intended to be where it is and same as the waves have intentionally cleansed the sands, she is exactly where she is supposed to be.

I am thinking about how I want to feel that dream come true. I am riding now and moving fast while facing the city. I want to be brave enough to explore again so that I can feel the same wild curiosities that came when I’d walk down 7th Avenue. I want to feel the rush and the youthful angst that I felt whenever I’d pass some of the playhouses that caused me to dream.

There’s an old poem of mine, which I found earlier this morning. I think it fits my emotions this morning.

Monday Morning: As we grow speed changes.

Life changes and after we finish our time in the fast lane, we go from living quickly to consider things like what a brilliant concept it is to make popcorn and that a quiet night at home is better than anyplace else in the world.

I suppose the speed was beautiful but the luster faded. The glamour of our youth lost its appeal and the genius of long, crazy nights transformed and improved into small groups of people and a life that means more to me now than ever before.

It took decades for me to recognize the lies we tell each other and realize why we tell them which is pointless to say the least. It took some losses and some bouts and so damage and some healing to reflect upon my bullshit and see how I rationalized my lies so I could pass them off as truths.

It’s a good thing . . . to grow, or to age and to learn.

It’s good to finally realize the lies we tell ourselves are just a waste and nothing good comes from waste except for the lessons we learned after we wasted so much time.

And so now, we can step away from the false pretense. We can distance ourselves from the image or personality we hid behind and we can stop the games we play or hiding behind a mask which slips when the truth comes out.

We can stop and let go or in the simplest ways possible; we can come clean with the truth and just be ourselves.

I can be me. You can be you. We can unfold together or separately and at last, we can transform into the person we are destined to be.

We can step aside from the labels or definitions we were given and so, if we allow ourselves the right we can arrive at the idea that no one can define me but me and no one can define you but you.

And as for us, only destiny knows us and fate knows as well because how else have we roamed so far and found our way back here in each other’s lives

Do you know what a moment of awareness like this is called? This called freedom.

I never felt so free as I do now here, curled in the palms of my fantasy with you. And this is all I want. You and I me and you, or for us to be an “us,” away from the world and far from the congestion of outside distractions.

I want to recognize that fate took us here; to notice the the confusion which caused us to turn around as if to come to a greater realization that allowed us to arrive at the following conclusion: Nothing else matters. Nothing is more important. No one else matters

but us . . .

~

I digress all too often. And I fail to let go of all too much. The train is moving closer to the city now. My home is moving farther behind me. Today is another day above the dirt. My hope is that today brings me closer to where I want to be.

I am about to head into the tunnel and find myself on the subway so that I can head downtown. Of course, the city knows me. Of course, you know me as well. And no matter what comes or what happens, nothing can change the fact that Purgatory has its own way of doing things, —but even here, and even on a Monday morning, the sky is beautiful. The clouds are miraculous. Time is wasting But I am now wasting another minute.

The world is a beautiful place. And you . . . . . . . . you are the most beautiful person that I have ever seen.

I swear.