November 13, 2009

Briar Patches, Ballads and Hope.

What do I want? I've made my lists. The Perfect Man. Where I Want To Be In Ten Years. The Steps To Get There. The Perfect Horse. The Perfect Job. The Perfect Life. etc etc. Circumstances have changed some of those things. And I've been okay with most of them. And I've grown to accept the rest of them. So why do I suddenly find myself desiring something more? Why did it hurt so badly to find you so dead set against kids? I knew that, and I respected that. Until now. Why can't I get the image of that couple married for over 70 years out of my mind? Is my mind changing? Why? Why don't things stay the same? Why can't my heart stand by the decision my mind makes?

Why is the boundary between heart and mind so often blurred?

I desire that ten year plan to come to fruition. But lately, I've forgotten bits and pieces of that plan; and now I'm left with only the distant memory of a plan. All of this causes me to ask the question, what do I really have in life?

An ever-changing mind, a briar patch of a heart, and some semblance of a soul.

And that is me, the entirety of me.. in a nutshell. And I don't know if I'm okay with that anymore.. For the first time in an eternal year I want myself to be more.

I want to be strong
I want to be important to people
I want to be someone worth knowing.
I want to be someone's best friend.
I want to be wise.
I want to be the girl who understands.
I want to be regarded as a person of great insight.
I want. I want. I want.

The question is. What do I need? To loved and to be loved? Nay that was the thing of my dreams as a young girl. It's not the reality I have come to know. My reality is one of simply living. Waking up everyday, putting one foot in front of the other, walking the road allotted to me. Most days, I'm okay with that. Those are the days when hope is more than a flame upon a distant hill. It is as real as I, as the air I breathe. It is a fire lighting up my soul. That is my definition of hope.

To have hope is to illuminate a darkened soul.

And then the fire dies... and I exist, but that's all. I follow my day to day routine. But somehow... I view it not from my own eyes, but as a silent, tortured soul floating in a state of being. This is the things of dreams you say. No. This is only life.

I've come to the conclusion that I have hope it changes its form day to day just as love does. Perhaps the lesson I'm slowly coming to learn is that I must strive after hope, I must run to that distant hill, and when I reach hope, I must lock it inside my soul. But if I imprison hope what good is it? No this is not the lesson to be learned. Hope must continue to live as the things of dreams. It must reside freely with unicorns and fairies, in the land of Camelot, Narnia, or Neverland. Secretly believed in by all with old souls, however rarely seen. I'm not afraid to admit that;

I still believe in Santa Claus, in Unicorns, in Narnia, and lastly in hope.

I see hope in that music still speaks to my soul, it still changes my world. In that I've come to love writing again after nine long years.And as much as I deny it;

I still believe in love at first sight, in soul mates, and I too have my own King Arthur.

It's an interesting story you know, no matter which account you read, whether it be T.H. White or Disney; King Arthur always has an air of tragedy. But to me it is the greatest Romance. No matter in a movie or a ballad, the tales of Lancelot, King Arthur and his Queen Guienvere, and The Lady of Shalott, it brings tears to my eyes and hope to my heart. Why?

Because they failed.

All of them, in some form or another, and even in their failures that led to their ultimate downfalls they still knew love and how to love. That is the basis of my greatest desire. For some King Arthur out there to see past my faults and failures and love me not because of them or the woman I've become; but for his love to be so rich and so deep that he doesn't see them. Odd, perhaps.

Love in its truest form magnifies someone's greatest attributes and diminishes their shortcomings.

I want that love, in the quiet of my room, I can admit that. That love, is the love I'm willing to fight for. So I will wait for my King Arthur. One mistake I will not make is that I will not be distracted by Lancelot's along the way. No matter how rich the love they promise, because as in the tales of old, it is not my lot in life to love a Lancelot. Nay, my destiny is to love someone only as broken as I. I have always identified with Guinevere. The barren queen in a foreign land. I will continue to learn from her mistakes and I will love as she did, with all the love that my briar patch of a heart is capable of.

This is my hope.

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