NIKKAT the Hills

A painted picture

darkness understood

loneliness of thought

evil within good

Waves of desire

flowing of the mind

dandelions blowing

a world lost to time

Illusions of delusion

awareness wet with wine

delusions of seclusion

a friend of ancient rhyme

Irrelevant suggestions

reflections of refrain

opiate conclusions

the sunshine during rain

Subtracting from the abstract

dominant frustrations

sanity insane

producing conversation

Confusion of the question

reasoning the why

confusion of the answer

a hand shake, wave goodbye.

Toe-Tapping Jugglers Unite

My ability to juggle seems to have hit an all time low, but I’m-a-tryin!

I guess it’s really all about being able to get psyched for the show, ready for the big game, feet in the stirrups, and all that jazz. I just need a minute, a deep breath, a heavy sigh, and about a teaspoon of gratitude…

So even though my make-up seems to be a little flaking and the dreams within my heart are slightly aching, I walk the mile and dress in style, and wouldn’t you know it that on my face the cheesy smile…still stays on!

Perhaps Freddy Mercury said it best when he passionately concluded:

I'll top the bill!
I'll overkill!
I have to find the will to carry on!

On with the,
On with the show!
The Show must go on.

His musical legacy lives on, but of course he died not long after singing these words.

Se la vie, carpe diem, esprit de corps, 
vini vidi vicci, 
and ibbity bibbity bippity bop!

I would bargain for a few extra hours in the day but I suppose working double time will have to suffice.

Fortunately there are very few challenges in life that a nap is unable to remedy. So armed with a teddy bear, a body pillow, and a cup of tea I tell myself that soon enough victory will be mine. But victory will have to wait until after my nap.

If only I were a cobbler and the elves were on their way...where is Waldo when you need him?

Homecoming

Why do people have children? 

Some people have children in an attempt at non-scientific cloning; yearning to relive all of their shattered hopes and dreams through the possibility of a brighter future as seen through the eyes of their children.

For others, children are merely the accidental byproduct of a moment’s passion. 

Some couples, perhaps, think that children are the well-planned reward of fiscal frugality and relational success.

And then, there are those of us that have a twinkle in our eye and a smile on our face whenever we think of our children.  For us, perhaps, the reason matters much less than the result.  “Woo hoo! Life is grand, we have children!” or so we say and think.

For me, I only know that I do have children.  The world is different. The grass is greener.  The sun is brighter.  Cookies taste better.

Everyday when I come home there is a child whose whole world lights up because I am in the world.  Wow! Tell me, how cool is that?!

It is only through the act of being a child and having a child that we are able to approach a full understanding of unconditional love!

Today my son and I shared a plate of spaghetti.  For the first time in his life he discovered the joy of slurping up a noodle.  With his tiny little fingers and his tiny little hands, he grabbed up noodles one by one.  AND HE SLURPED THEM.

All I have to do is think about ‘the slurping of noodles’ and I am smiling inside and out. 

That is why I have children, to remind myself that it is the simple things in life that are truly important.

Why do you have children?

Strangely Syllabic Sustenance

Strangers know less than what we tell them…and less than half of what they see. Or so the story goes…

A story that isn’t told well loses all of its magnificence to the untrained or uninterested audience.

If we listen, each voice we hear tells its own complicated and fascinating story; its own incredible tale of sorrow and joy, passion and pain, sunrise and sunset.

Often stories that are told well are those that are artfully woven with crisp and clear details, with waves of flowing words that awaken each of our senses.

For me, however, sometimes the best part of a story is the part that remains hidden and untold. The truth is always out there waiting for someone to discover it. When my imagination is given free reign to run wild as it pleases, every breath becomes clouded with double meanings and things are never quite as simple as they appear.

Truth is truly stranger than fiction, and fiction is as fiction does.

A Caffeinated Intermission

I had some dreams; they were clouds in my coffee. ~ Carly Simon

I must have been about twenty-five-years-old when I sat down for the first time on an off-colored, poorly upholstered, semi-chairish couch at the local coffee shop. Sitting around drinking coffee in an eclectic public environment filled with intellectual chit-chat, socialist word-paintings, and awkward first-date conversations seemed like such a novel and bourgeois idea.

I do remember my very first cup of hot coffee. It was nighttime in the desert and the wind that blew chilled straight to the bone. My buddy pulled out a thermos and filled my canteen cup with the steaming hot black drink. Black has always been my favorite color. Black was the color of this moonless cloud-covered night. Black was the color of my childhood dreams. Black was the color of my foxhole buddy, a man I would have taken a bullet for without a moment’s hesitation.

Black is the color you will see when you look deep into the eyes of death. I have never given much attention to the bright white and purity of light rumors from those that say they have returned from beyond the darkness. I guess I just never stared into the eyes of death long enough to find out for myself.

I like my coffee black. It is all that I have ever truly known. And I do believe that Sisyphus deserves a coffee break.