Prompt 2 {The Unrequited love poem}
Today's prompt would have me drone on endlessly about the virtues of pining for the one you love. Regardless of the outcome.
Oh one I love who loves me not I wish you knew my touch, but alas you live outside my reach and so I pine alone and in this emptiness I drown in sorrows vast as the breach between us both so look to me on deaths sweet bed as last I lay my weary head for never have I known your touch you miserable fucking such and such
Yadayadayada wax poetic? Nope wax pathetic!
But actually, there is a love I have yet to know fully one which I pine for even though I know not it's touch or the excitement of engagement with its divine forces.
The one who got away for me? Travel. I have wanted to travel and experience and eat, smell touch all that is unknown out there. And yet I have not. I know deep inside that this is because I have not allowed myself the freedom to do this, I suspect that for all my lofty ambition I am tethered to this non-motion by fear. I consistently have made choices which thwart my freedoms to move about as I desire. And yet as I come closer to my own end of days I become more restless in the knowledge that perhaps the time is running out for me to experience all the things I do not yet know. I want to spread my old bones out on a sun-drenched beach and sweat, the kind of hot sticky outpouring of glandular excesses which can only be borne from the heat from a thousand suns. And to know the discomfort that I suspect one can only really know from getting a multitude of gains of sand skillfully crammed up into all the parts of one's self which; in spite of the seemingly marvellous fit; were none the less not designed to house sand or sand fleas for that matter.
It is that one thing, the thing that I must accomplish before I leave this life, and although it would be so easy to point to one person or circumstance and say "Yea but for the evil machinations of (insert the name of the diabolical evil genius who has somehow managed to keep me from my one true path here) I would have traversed the length and breadth of this glorious planet!" I know it has always been me that has kept a firm tight lid on this pursuit.
I made the decision to marry though I had no earthly desire to do so, then, of course, followed up that bad decision by fulfilling that strange feminine desire to breed and then years and circumstances later, when there would have been a door to freedom I gave up that exit strategy to gather about me an assortment of new dependants.
So what exactly is it that I fear? The great garglebeast? The horrors of becoming separated from my luggage in a foreign airport? Frankly, I have absolutely no idea, I have searched deep within myself, a feat which in itself is a task no reasonably sane person would willingly undertake. There has not been a decent cleaning done in here since. well perhaps ever, but I digress...I have searched deep within and come up empty.
And yet I know that in reality, It has always been ME that has thwarted the attainment of my own set of goals. A realization which is reached no doubt by countless other self-saboteurs in an assortment of psychiatric couches, meditation cushions, EST and Landmark literature strewed banquet halls and dark dank bat-infested caves the world over. Obstacles that are placed in our paths to success are most likely placed there with a deft precision by no one tyrant other than the self.
After all who knows my weak points and failings better than I?
Or perhaps there is a more sinister sequence of events that brought me to this place.
There was a calendar on the walls of my Doctors office that as a child always left me feeling uneasy and a tad nauseous. It was a picture of these child/alien hybrids ( imagine creepy Teletubbies without the bright colours) all appearing to be engaged in what I can only assume was frolicking with each other and assorted woodland creatures. At any rate, this odd assortment of characters so menacingly portrayed; always appeared to be on a journey to somewhere.
A conclusion I arrived at as some of the creatures were saddled with small bundles of items attached to sticks perched on shoulders. Benign surely, and yet this image still leaves me feeling quite unsettled.
When I contemplate actually getting on a plane and really going to (insert grand destination here) I feel something akin to that same unease from my childhood.
Maybe somewhere deep in the recesses of this rats nest of disarray that I consistently and inaccurately call a mind I have managed to attach this nauseating and disconnected feeling of fear and uncertainty with the act of travelling to places unknown.
But it is 2018, and I am sure as a very middle-aged woman past such things am I not? And so as I begin another year, and another set of circumstances and possibilities are laid out in my path, unknown and unsullied. I can only wonder if 2019 will once again begin with me swaddled in sweaty blankets covered in a layer of discarded kleenex deep in my bed of self-pity or will I instead be out THERE climbing the steps of a temple in Thailand taking in the glory that surrounds me? Who knows...I can, however, say with some measure of certainty that odds for this are improving and perhaps come next New Years day I will, with effort, have detached my sagging old ass off this bed and out into the greater world which calls me.
And what is it that has evened these odds? What great miracle of science, an intervention of the gods or clarity of vision has come to/upon me to lift me from the throes of self-sabotage?
The acquisition of that magical document which is the true portal to discovery. A Passport. That thing you must possess to show to those who stand guard at the portals to excitement all over the world, that small blue book that one must clutch to their chest as they approach each entrance to wonder and present to the guards at the gate that which proves you are not a camel or a cat in disguise but a citizen of a county you are for whatever befuddling and suspect reason desperately trying to flee.
Yes, I am the proud owner of a passport to freedom, and although I lost it temporarily in my own bedroom in a mix of confusion and purse exchanges briefly this past summer, it is once again exactly where it had not in fact moved from safely ensconced in a smallish backpack awaiting adventures.
Oh ya, and on the subject of backpacks, I also procured a proper perfect fitting 65-litre Osprey cherry red backpack to go with the aforementioned passport, it too was acquired in anticipation of travel and adventure. Along with a sizeable sum of cash which I promptly applied to my credit card to create room to purchase the necessary tickets and accommodations to allow for said adventures to parts unknown.
But once again in true to form with an almost Chaplin-esque slipping on a banana peel accuracy I have fallen into my well worn bad habits and squandered the lot!
Not on travel and adventure alas no, I spent it all on food, heat, car insurance and electricity. And that perfect backpack which once held such promise was deftly nicked from my car leaving me once again flat broke and without the proverbial sac in which to pack and carry my dreams or a dime to deliver them on. My sabotage was complete and I am once again stymied in my pursuit of seeing. consuming and learning about the worlds many wonders first hand. I have ensured I am once again tethered in place until I can fully assemble the necessary bits needed to set off from my comfort zone.
So in closing, I quote from the great Peter Cook and Dudley Moore, in that classic bit of divine brilliance “The Frog and Peach"
"Sir Arthur can you say that you have learned from your mistakes?" " Oh yes, yes most definitely!" ..." I can say that I have most definitely learned from my mistakes, and can repeat them EXACTLY"
Have passport will travel ! (so long as those strange little alien child creature things stay clear of my path that is...)
Oh one I love who loves me not I wish you knew my touch, but alas you live outside my reach and so I pine alone and in this emptiness I drown in sorrows vast as the breach between us both so look to me on deaths sweet bed as last I lay my weary head for never have I known your touch you miserable fucking such and such
Yadayadayada wax poetic? Nope wax pathetic!
But actually, there is a love I have yet to know fully one which I pine for even though I know not it's touch or the excitement of engagement with its divine forces.
The one who got away for me? Travel. I have wanted to travel and experience and eat, smell touch all that is unknown out there. And yet I have not. I know deep inside that this is because I have not allowed myself the freedom to do this, I suspect that for all my lofty ambition I am tethered to this non-motion by fear. I consistently have made choices which thwart my freedoms to move about as I desire. And yet as I come closer to my own end of days I become more restless in the knowledge that perhaps the time is running out for me to experience all the things I do not yet know. I want to spread my old bones out on a sun-drenched beach and sweat, the kind of hot sticky outpouring of glandular excesses which can only be borne from the heat from a thousand suns. And to know the discomfort that I suspect one can only really know from getting a multitude of gains of sand skillfully crammed up into all the parts of one's self which; in spite of the seemingly marvellous fit; were none the less not designed to house sand or sand fleas for that matter.
It is that one thing, the thing that I must accomplish before I leave this life, and although it would be so easy to point to one person or circumstance and say "Yea but for the evil machinations of (insert the name of the diabolical evil genius who has somehow managed to keep me from my one true path here) I would have traversed the length and breadth of this glorious planet!" I know it has always been me that has kept a firm tight lid on this pursuit.
I made the decision to marry though I had no earthly desire to do so, then, of course, followed up that bad decision by fulfilling that strange feminine desire to breed and then years and circumstances later, when there would have been a door to freedom I gave up that exit strategy to gather about me an assortment of new dependants.
So what exactly is it that I fear? The great garglebeast? The horrors of becoming separated from my luggage in a foreign airport? Frankly, I have absolutely no idea, I have searched deep within myself, a feat which in itself is a task no reasonably sane person would willingly undertake. There has not been a decent cleaning done in here since. well perhaps ever, but I digress...I have searched deep within and come up empty.
And yet I know that in reality, It has always been ME that has thwarted the attainment of my own set of goals. A realization which is reached no doubt by countless other self-saboteurs in an assortment of psychiatric couches, meditation cushions, EST and Landmark literature strewed banquet halls and dark dank bat-infested caves the world over. Obstacles that are placed in our paths to success are most likely placed there with a deft precision by no one tyrant other than the self.
After all who knows my weak points and failings better than I?
Or perhaps there is a more sinister sequence of events that brought me to this place.
There was a calendar on the walls of my Doctors office that as a child always left me feeling uneasy and a tad nauseous. It was a picture of these child/alien hybrids ( imagine creepy Teletubbies without the bright colours) all appearing to be engaged in what I can only assume was frolicking with each other and assorted woodland creatures. At any rate, this odd assortment of characters so menacingly portrayed; always appeared to be on a journey to somewhere.
A conclusion I arrived at as some of the creatures were saddled with small bundles of items attached to sticks perched on shoulders. Benign surely, and yet this image still leaves me feeling quite unsettled.
When I contemplate actually getting on a plane and really going to (insert grand destination here) I feel something akin to that same unease from my childhood.
Maybe somewhere deep in the recesses of this rats nest of disarray that I consistently and inaccurately call a mind I have managed to attach this nauseating and disconnected feeling of fear and uncertainty with the act of travelling to places unknown.
But it is 2018, and I am sure as a very middle-aged woman past such things am I not? And so as I begin another year, and another set of circumstances and possibilities are laid out in my path, unknown and unsullied. I can only wonder if 2019 will once again begin with me swaddled in sweaty blankets covered in a layer of discarded kleenex deep in my bed of self-pity or will I instead be out THERE climbing the steps of a temple in Thailand taking in the glory that surrounds me? Who knows...I can, however, say with some measure of certainty that odds for this are improving and perhaps come next New Years day I will, with effort, have detached my sagging old ass off this bed and out into the greater world which calls me.
And what is it that has evened these odds? What great miracle of science, an intervention of the gods or clarity of vision has come to/upon me to lift me from the throes of self-sabotage?
The acquisition of that magical document which is the true portal to discovery. A Passport. That thing you must possess to show to those who stand guard at the portals to excitement all over the world, that small blue book that one must clutch to their chest as they approach each entrance to wonder and present to the guards at the gate that which proves you are not a camel or a cat in disguise but a citizen of a county you are for whatever befuddling and suspect reason desperately trying to flee.
Yes, I am the proud owner of a passport to freedom, and although I lost it temporarily in my own bedroom in a mix of confusion and purse exchanges briefly this past summer, it is once again exactly where it had not in fact moved from safely ensconced in a smallish backpack awaiting adventures.
Oh ya, and on the subject of backpacks, I also procured a proper perfect fitting 65-litre Osprey cherry red backpack to go with the aforementioned passport, it too was acquired in anticipation of travel and adventure. Along with a sizeable sum of cash which I promptly applied to my credit card to create room to purchase the necessary tickets and accommodations to allow for said adventures to parts unknown.
But once again in true to form with an almost Chaplin-esque slipping on a banana peel accuracy I have fallen into my well worn bad habits and squandered the lot!
Not on travel and adventure alas no, I spent it all on food, heat, car insurance and electricity. And that perfect backpack which once held such promise was deftly nicked from my car leaving me once again flat broke and without the proverbial sac in which to pack and carry my dreams or a dime to deliver them on. My sabotage was complete and I am once again stymied in my pursuit of seeing. consuming and learning about the worlds many wonders first hand. I have ensured I am once again tethered in place until I can fully assemble the necessary bits needed to set off from my comfort zone.
So in closing, I quote from the great Peter Cook and Dudley Moore, in that classic bit of divine brilliance “The Frog and Peach"
"Sir Arthur can you say that you have learned from your mistakes?" " Oh yes, yes most definitely!" ..." I can say that I have most definitely learned from my mistakes, and can repeat them EXACTLY"
Have passport will travel ! (so long as those strange little alien child creature things stay clear of my path that is...)
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