Writing is Easy, Writing is Hard

Writing is easy when it comes from the heart
But from the mind is somewhat hard

To ‘feel’ is a constant state-of-being
To ‘think’ is to breathe while surviving reality

To ‘reflect’ is a path taken only by the wise
To ‘depict’ is a portrayal of reality analysed

To ‘write’ is to yield a paper and pen
To ‘type’ is to shield from our battles and demons

Writing is easy when it comes from the heart
But from the mind is somewhat hard

Words can tear apart but words can also mend
Words can be composed and also comprehended

Words can unite but sometimes divide
Words are up to the reader to decide

What do writers ‘do’ for ‘work’?
Writers ‘do work’ by working words.

Writing is easy when it comes from the heart
But from the mind is somewhat hard …

I just stumbled for a minute
Then came back to it

When it comes to format I am sometimes unsure
If I can accurately articulate my thoughts through words

Writing is a form of action and expression
With apt timing it is dialogue and communication

Writing is easy when it comes from the heart
But from the mind is somewhat hard

It is hard to describe a transformative experience
It is easy for the heart to yearn such experience

Writing is easy when it comes from the heart
But being mindful of format… is the hard yet fruitful part…

 

MG

 

Kindness is Not Weakness

She looked at me with insecurity in her eyes, as if pleading for sympathy.

I couldn’t.

Much as I tried to muster up a shred of compassion, she had used up the last ounce left in me. Used it up on some medial triviality that was, if anything,  inconsequential to the matter at hand.

For years, I had done my best to understand the root of the issue. For years, I had given a part of myself to her — my ears, heart, time, energy. I had been sympathetic towards experiences far out of my scope. My arms were always open for embrace, my head was always open to another perspective, but my soul was guarding my heart from digesting more than I could stomach.

Then it happened.

One day, I opened my eyes and realized that she was a living, breathing reminder of everything I had already overcome. She had the demeanor of a human, but the behaviour of what used to be my undefeated demons.

I was at the end of my tether, a tether I didn’t even know existed — perhaps very few people had ever dared reach it. Even fewer lacked the cognizance to know where my line lay.

But she, I suppose, fell into that category of “one of the fewer”.

I confronted her, of course, regarding the levels of disrespect radiating like Venus’ sulfuric acid — she didn’t “mean to”, she just couldn’t “help it”. Apparently it was my fault for letting her speak in that manner, for not defending myself.

Well my apologies for choosing to rise above the need to be unnecessarily defensive.

I took her advice, nonetheless, to prove a point. I “defended myself” by not taking blame for other people’s transgressions. This was, incidentally, viewed as “interrupting” and “not letting the other person finish speaking.” (Rambling, honestly).

Well my apologies for having self-respect and guiding a conversation instead of enabling validation. 

My tether.

How did I even let it go on so long?

Simple.

I’ve been there before.

I’ve been in her shoes before. Those juvenile, self-centered, self-indulged, narcissistic, insecure, egotistic, defensive, over-analytical, paranoid, anxious shoes.

I’ve worn something like that.

Many moons ago, but in those shoes I’ve tread those paths — climbed the mountains and rolled down cliffs, drowned in lakes and washed up on shore, broken my bones and worn them casts.

But I am not there now. Nor do I want to go back to any of it.

So when I say that I am out of sympathy, it is not selfish or uncaring. It is not callous or heartless.

It is that I will no longer allow anyone to twist something beautiful into their distorted versions of reality. I cannot fill the voids she won’t admit exist, and will not validate insecurities that are hers — not mine — to fight.

My darling, if you ever read this, I’m sorry that I’d ever let you mistake my kindness for weakness, but I’m walking away because of the strength I’ve mustered up after recovering from this battle. I can’t let you interpret my words to your advantage simply to justify the mistakes of mine you continuously repeat instead of move past. I cannot keep being the buoy you cling to when you get stranded at sea, repeatedly. It’s time for you to pull your own weight — I’ve left you with enough care packages and tools to sift through, but it’s up to you to figure out how to use them. 

You’re on your own, darling, but in a way that you need right now. 

I’ll see you on the other side.
Hope you make it out alive.

Signed with the kind of love you’ve yet to understand, 


MG

Arbitration

I was stuck in a room with the two of them, both of whom felt the other to be intolerable. I was summonsed to arbitrate the situation, a mediation of sorts. Why? Well…I was about to find out.

When I’d first entered the room, I saw him sitting there with a sideways glare, arms folded across the chest in his tight black t-shirt, leg crossed over the other as his foot rested on his knee.

She, she was no better. She had her arms folded across her chest, too, but take away the glare and replace it with a whole bunch of huffs and hisses, fidgeting with the cuffs on her white jacket.

So this was my situation. They couldn’t agree. Again.

It wasn’t my first time dealing with this pair, either. And for matters of respecting their confidentiality, we shall give them nicknames. He will be called the Head, and She will be called the Heart.

My last few encounters with these two weren’t particularly pleasant; don’t get me wrong, we did achieve wonderful results. But my, how these two fought…so worth it. So entertaining, too, in retrospect. See, in my experience with these two, Heart always knew what she wanted. She was full of desire, of want, of love and compassion. She was kind, but she was strong as a boulder that would not change, only…fade…

Head, on the other hand, had this tendency to be right every single time. He was logical, calculated, and understanding. The empathy he lacked was replaced with honesty; brutal at times, but he didn’t play games.

When Head took the lead on the argument, the outcome would generally be of mutual benefit. Head had an objective outlook on life and was able to take himself out of the picture when analyzing a situation.

Heart, however, would always lead with her emotions. She cared about how people felt in a situation, and she also cared about herself. Heart was less likely to take herself out of the picture, and for that reason, allowed Head to take the lead when it came to situations involving others…

For years, Head was the one who made a regular appearance. He was the one trained to talk to people. Head had kept Heart hidden to protect her for so long that she didn’t quite know how to get what she wanted.

For that reason, I was asked to be present today. I had to solve their dilemma…for the first time, Heart wanted something that only Head knew how to get, and Head’s advice went against Heart’s desire.

Oh crikey, I had my work cut out for me…

MG

I Love Vous: On Polyamory

I thought I could reign it in and unify all of it, write to you, and be able to say, “Yes, it’s you.”

It’s always you, isn’t it? And yet…it never is. But the French had it right all along…I love…vous. (English equivalent: “yous”)

To you, my darling,
I miss you. It started as a simple “I enjoy your company, and you mine, why not get together and have a great time…” But it’s become a bit more that. Just a bit. Not to say I feel incomplete or inadequate without you. Not even the memories or history. I miss the possibilities. I miss when our innocence wasn’t jaded by fragments of whatever future we thought we had to stress over, when we made plans that felt more like dreams than setting concrete.
I miss when you wanted me…enough to actually show it. I miss when “making an effort” for me was never “effort”, when I was a desire not an obligation. I miss…the possibility of us.

To you, my love,
I love you. But I’ll never tell you that, at least, not sober. I love you, not in the cliche “I want to spend the rest of my life with you” kind of way — I’m not romantically idealistic.
But I love you. The you I had gotten to know, however briefly, however endless that  fickle moment seemed…but the you I love…is…unbeknown to anyone but myself. The you I love, only I have seen. No one knows you…except you and I. That “you”, that’s who I love. It is also why I wouldn’t spend the rest of my life with you…much as I adore you, the combination of us would simply explode. We’re just… too much together.
I’ll love you anyway, but I’m not going to do anything about it.

To you, my sweetheart,
You’re very likeable. I hope you know that. Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. You’re that flux between enjoying the attention but hating the repercussions. You want me to commit, but you don’t want to reciprocate. You want to commit, but you’re scared I’ll walk away. So you cling to them instead, the others who don’t seem to like each other very much…well…they probably wouldn’t, if they’d known about each other. But they don’t. And I do. Out of all of us, I’m the only one actually loving you being you. Selflessly entertained by the life you lead, knowing that simply being the desirable part of it is all I’d ever wanted. Keep being you, sweetheart, you’re amazing.

To you, my dearest,
I don’t know how you made it in. No, I don’t know why I let you in. All I know is that I made room for you, and then you disappeared. Then reappeared, wriggled your way in, got comfortable, and disappeared again. You’ve taught me not to see it as a game, to embrace it as your reality, the way you do things. It’s your “expression”. You create an illusion — for us, for them.
Never knowing where you stand, jumping on and off the pedestal they placed you on — “just because you can“, might I add — but, my dear, you do it, for all of us who wish we could.  Your absence leaves behind a presence, my dearest, and it’s one that manages to mesmerize, even from a distance. That’s you, dear, and I get it…it’s you who has yet to understand you

To you, my beloved,
We need to talk.

I love vous.

MG

(Creative writing: Polyamory)

Write Truth with Love

“Write it with love,” I kept telling myself as I nervously tried to muster up the words. Writing from the heart was never hard until I realized how much there is to say, and yet so few words to convey. Perhaps that’s why I resort to poetry, it’s the direct link to the heart, to the unfiltered emotion, without the facade and masquerade of human conditioned behaviour. Socially appropriated responses, as they call it nowadays. Nonetheless, here I sit past sunset, wondering how to best express the wondrous and astounding experience I have been having since the day our eyes met. It seems so simple, when I pen it in rhyme, but why, oh why, do words evade when I want to say more than just…I love you…

Dear Darling,

I write this to you only hoping, praying, that you read this, at some point. Preferably soon would be nice. Our journey together is one of the most beautiful paths I’ve ever taken, especially because it’s with you. I’m not there physically, don’t quite consciously know why, yet somehow emotionally understand. Somehow, I am there, always, in the way that you need me to be, want me to be. I love you for that, for letting me love you. Remember that conversation we had, about “of the many ways to say I love you”? I remember that. I remember all our conversations.

But of all the ways to say “I love you”, you said it best. You said it in your words, in your actions, in your presence as well as in your silence. I only ever wanted to show you that, but became so tangled up in everything else that was going on; all the excitement, the transitions, the thrill and exhilaration of being in your company. I was careless, many times, I slipped up, and I made mistakes. I am sorry for that, truly, for the tears I’ve caused, for the pain from which I only ever wanted to shelter you. You’ve told me how happy you are now, how much you love yourself, how much you’ve grown and continue to grow. It’s like I’m seeing you see in yourself what I saw in you from the moment our eyes met. We lost and found each other amidst our chaos.

I know you find it hard to believe, almost impossible, but I knew from the start. There was something about you, when you sat opposite me, hearing the words come out of your mouth echoing my thoughts and personal reflections? Your words were/are a splittin’ image of my journey; it was uncanny. You had me hooked from the moment you let me get distracted by the tint in your eye. That flawless spark concealing worlds of words, galaxies of comets, stars falling and swirling around planets. Even writing this, I’m taken back to that universe of yours, teleporting through all of it…

Deep down, my love, I understand you, more than you realize. More than I show, sometimes. Emotions are not my forte, I did mention that, but I’m always learning. It’s me, darling, and you have taught me so much. Simply by being who you are, by being here with me, you have taught me lessons in life that I have only ever dreamed of learning. You have given me patience and self-discipline. Two lessons most around me have spend years trying to drill into me. But that’s all you, darling, you inspired me to breathe, to slow down in a way that I didn’t even realize I could. In a way that I very much needed.

You showed me a side of myself I had long since forgotten, a gentle compassion in me that you’d managed to silently resurrect.

My love, you are so much more to me than you realize. Your presence in my life, however you choose it to be, has been one of the reasons I’ve managed to shake of the cocoon that was jading my vision for the past few years. You, simply by showing me that you exist, have worked miracles in my life. It is for this reason that I want to thank you, for growing me, for pushing me into a new realm where you and I can coexist simultaneously while still physically living our human realities. I don’t know how you do it, and suppose a magician never reveals a secret.

I’m no magician, but I do have a secret. A secret that I would happily REveAL if you want.

Truthfully, darling, I hope you realize that it has always been you.

Just you.

What you and I have…this is beyond love. It’s something deeper. I know you know that. I love you, and so much more than just love…You are amazing. We are amazing. This journey; us.

Us…The story that writes itself…

M.G.