Reading harold_maude's journal

All afternoon I've been sitting here thinking about the past few weeks.
Thinking about how it felt to know that finally the one thing I thought would never happened
had finally shown up.

I've been thinking about how destroyed I feel right now. Ash, left overs. The next day kind of
thing.
And how it makes no sense, not any of it.

Inside my skin it feels uncomfortable right now. And I'm putting back on the steel plate armor
that has kept me from ending up in such wreckage for a long time.
I have to.
I have no choice.
Well, I do have a choice, but the other thing, sitting here grieving over something that is done
is rather pointless.
It won't change anything. It won't make any difference now.
It won't make me believe any less that the apprentice I had been waiting for had finally showed
up and me being me put too much out there of what I know to not completely fry his mind.

It's kind of like this, a kid has a 5 gallon bucket of water, and no matter how careful they are
at least some of it will spill out.
And it's very possible they may loose their grip, and loose it all.

So here I am. In pain. So what. I've been in pain about many things over the years.
I've lost things. I've had things taken away.
People have come taken what they needed and left. Again and again.
It's what my life is.
And no matter how I try to change that, there is no way to do that.

I don't know if there will ever be another person who will show up ready to hear and understand
what I need to say so that this gift can be passed on.
I don't know if I'll have another chance to help someone become more than what they are now.

Maybe I will. Maybe I won't.

It would be nice to believe that maybe it will come round again.
That someone will come and they will have such a deep fire that burns for their art and a deep
sense of frustration at not being able to find anyone who knows where they are.

If there is one apprentice maybe there is more.
I don't know.
I do know however, that all of this has made me want to shut all the windows and all the doors
and lock them tight.
And shut out any person who comes.
To push them hard away so there can be no possiblity that I can do any kind of damage
in any way shape or form, simply by telling them things they arn't ready to hear.

I still believe I have come face to face with the one who is suppose to be the next care taker.
But they don't believe it. They are freaked out by the things I said.
And I have to accept that.
And I do.
Them not believing it doesn't change what I saw and what I understood and understand about
who they are and what I have seen is possible for them to do.

I know they are inside now, where this creative force of art will teach them.
Maybe all I really was for them was a gate keeper, and not a mentor.
And if that's so, then the rest doesn't really matter.
They will do as they will and either embrace who they are or not.
That's their choice.
and with that choice, what ever it is, will come many things.
And alot of deep struggle along the way.

I know that too. But it doesn't matter what I know. It only matters that they keep doing
the one thing that drives them.
And now they are in the same place that has given me life for so long.
and shown me things that have blown me away.
And changed me forever.
That's all that really matters.
I guess that's all that ever did matter.

Look I don't wanna be rude but you are dumping on me like your roommate is doing to you. I don't understand the whole 'apprentice' thing or the handing me the 'sphere' thing either. Can't we just talk about art? I am not looking to be handed anything. I just wanna connect on an emotional level unconditionally and without the sense of paranoia. I love art, you love art, we both love art. My art is writing, your art is painting but please don't tell me that you've been waiting for me for your whole life. What am I suppose to do with that? How could I live up to that? Yes I'm naive when it comes to human relationships but you've confused me more than I could express into words and I am backing away because I don't know how to handle whatever your agenda is.

This is all way too confusing. I am not sure I can live up to what you think I am, or what I'm supposed to be in your eyes.

This life is built on match sticks and can crumble at anytime. I'm on the top floor and I sway in the opposite direction of the wind to counter act the force of gravity.

Don't hate me, love me. I'm sorry for all this, I have no hard feelings for you Wendy. Time is the healer of all wounds, lets let time sort this one out.

This post was edited by majic on Nov 07, 2005.