Tag Archives: art

Sleeping Beauty

In the darkest room
warm puffy cheeks
eyes beneath closed curtains
ripe lips sealed
perfect pristine figurine lying unaware, untouched

Come, crawl into bed with your Sleeping Beauty

I’ll dream I’m awake
that I have wings, that I’m soaring
and I turn my head and see you flying beside me

I’ll dream I’m awake
that you wrap my hands carefully and intently with yours
and your sweet, assuring voice
recites the indisputable equation
two plus two can only equal four
no more

I’ll dream I’m awake
that you see me, and I see you
and we are both alive

I’ll keep dreaming
And you keep sleeping

-CS

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Yes, I’ll have the retrospect with a side of introspect

Dear 11 year old self,

Don’t worry about the kid that takes advantage of your quietness, because you don’t know how to stand up for yourself yet. Don’t worry about the girls standing in a giggling bunch by the bleachers, jeering because you’re not allowed to shave your legs yet. Don’t worry about feeling different, like you’ll never fit in.

You will learn to speak your mind. One day you will know what it means to have a voice and to speak with conviction. One day you will be able to make your own choices. One day you will choose compassion over ridicule because you know what it feels like to lumber in those shoes. You will know that you are different from all others, and you will learn it is the greatest gift you will ever receive.

Dear 27 year old self,

People will come into your life strangers and familiar faces, and not all of them will be with you for the duration of your journey. It won’t always be clear why your path crosses with theirs, why you walk alongside one another for however long it may be. Sometimes it won’t be easy, parting ways with a fellow traveler when your paths diverge.

Know in your heart that this is truth: you have been walking for *27 years. For 27 years you have lived, learned, loved, suffered, experienced, fell onto your hands and knees, got back up on your feet and kept walking. You have made the choice time and time again to put one foot in front of the other. Out of all of the people that walk with you—those that no longer do, the ones that continue to, and those that may in the future, not a single one could ever take those steps for you or from you.

No matter the events that transpired you have never stopped walking. You’ve come a hell of a long way and you’ve got a lengthy stretch of road ahead of you. Persevere my dear, YOU have built this person made for conquering.

-CS

*Now 28, I wrote this prior to waving goodbye to 27. The timing was perfect.

For those of us still having birthdays

This is the first birthday I can ever remember feeling unsettled about my age. Does everyone go through some sort of crisis as they draw nearer to 30? I’m certainly not where I thought I would be nor where I want to be. I’m not necessarily unhappy with the way things have turned out up until this point. It’s just that all of a sudden it feels as if someone flipped over the hourglass labeled Brittni’s Life kickstarting the steady, streaming descent of sand. I don’t recall signing any paperwork authorizing this. I demand unlimited flips for the rest of time, thank you very much. No? That’s not how this works?

Previous birthdays were spent celebrating milestones with each new age giving rise to exciting new found freedoms and independence. What now? I find myself frustrated and at times sick to my stomach because not only do I feel so far away from my goals, but my birthday is a bright yellow sticky note stuck to the inside of my eyelids reminding me that I have less time to reach them. I have less time to be young, less time to have new experiences. I could worry myself into a mental institution obsessing over lost time, or a more likely scenario, hinder my progress taking active steps towards my aspirations.

Here’s where I try to turn my thinking around: Why am I putting so much emphasis on what I have not yet accomplished, rather than celebrating the life that has been lived thus far? Your birthday is a celebration of the experiences you’ve had and lessons you have learned. Instead of fixating yourself on turning another year older, celebrate the person you’ve become.

Celebrate with the people who love you, the ones who think you’re great even when you’re not. Celebrate not the years, but the moments that have come to pass. Celebrate solo. Truly celebrate yourself. Feel the weight of what you carry on your back, good and bad, all that you are is worth celebrating.

-CS

The Pursuit

How do people measure self worth and the worth of others? Is it measured by how much one has contributed to their community or to society as a whole? Number of friends? The amount of money in a bank account? The number of languages one can speak? The number of beautiful, traveled places one has seen? Perhaps, the amount of love and understanding one has given?

Happiness, success, peace; together these ideas become a framework for greatness. Individually, each have different meanings for different people. Are they something to strive for in a way as to attain an overall state of being when we reach a certain age? Or are they feelings we experience from single moment to moment spanning the timeline that is our life? Combination of both?

What does greatness mean to me? Whenever I’m feeling overwhelmed or anxious, I find myself worrying that I’m not doing the right things, or the right things quick enough in order to achieve my greatness; greatness always being a vague concept with no legitimate target at which to aim my arrow. As if one day I’m supposed to wake up and feel like I’ve made it—*Opens eyes, sits up in bed, raises fist in the air, exclaims: I am finally the person I’ve been working my entire life to be! Sounds silly doesn’t it?

The older I get, the more often I feel as if I’m starting over. Like if my life were a novel, as my story progresses, there are increasingly more and more chapters. More beginnings and endings. More answers, but always the uncovering of more questions. I have a very strong sense of self and yet I feel as if I’m destined [or doomed—if you’re a glass half empty guy or gal] to walk a path of self discovery for the remainder of my days. Can greatness be achieved by someone like me? Is it within my wide eyed wandering that I find it?

I have been taught, I have been guided and I have been molded. But I have learned with my head in a book, I have carved my own walking stick and I have picked clay from beneath my finger nails. I cannot be anything other than what I am. I do not choose to be. I choose to grow. Let me be me. Let me be orange and yellow and red, but let me brighten my petals. Let me catch fire. At the end of this life, the only thing I take with me is my soul. Let my soul be vivid.

-CS

The Spirit of a Redhead

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At times I am so angry I lose my ability to put letters into words, words into sentences.
And when I can’t write, I run.
I run until I can no longer breathe, a reminder of all the times you sucked the life out of me.
I run until my limbs go numb in the hope that my emotions might do the same.
I run until my head can think only of the way my body feels working underneath me.
I feel the science of it, a brilliant machine with parts designed perfectly and purposefully for this unique action.
I feel the beauty in my self inflicted suffering, the satisfying thrill of seeing what I’m capable of.

I run because I am desperately trying to chase down the girl I let you take from me.
I know she is there.
Her spirit burns proud and unyielding as the Olympic flame, for not even the Greek gods could extinguish it.
I run until my feet catch fire on the pavement, swallowing me up.
Wholly engulfed, that is where I find her again.

-CS

An Enchanted Elixir Named Purpose

Hey there, it’s me
I recognize your beautiful face, those sparkling eyes brimming with fire and lightning
How striking you are when your spaces are filled
Overflowing, bubbling with a magic potion you can’t supply from a bottle
Self-made liquid
Let it flow, let it pour from your mouth, your eyes, your ears
Soak it up with that healthy, vibrant brain and feel it sink in
Feel it sink down into your skin, to your muscles, your bones
You feel it?
Tell me, do you feel it?

Remember this feeling
Hold on to the memory of what it looks like, feels like, tastes like

Dip your weary hands and your tired feet and when you are ready
Submerge yourself
Every aching limb, every last remnant of scar tissue
Be bathed in it
Surrender to its supernatural healing powers
Own the rippling reflection staring back at you
Purpose looks divine on you

 

***
New purpose has the ability to fill your empty spaces. Even if only for a moment, you can feel freed from pain, freed from worry, freed from grief. Your heart and soul swelled up like a hot air balloon just before flight, you begin to recognize yourself again.

-CS

Masterpiece

Weaving together
Woven together
Your deep brown eyes fixated, your obsessive mind completely immersed
Desperately trying to etch to memory the feel of each curving string
Your trembling hands tracing and gliding over every single fiber
Will you think of me when your fingers brush across those red-inked strands?

A brilliantly camouflaged framework sat perfectly positioned
Looming beneath my blinded vision

Why did you take those broken threads I severed with my shaky handed scissors and weave them into a new tapestry, hung so magnificently exposed on my castle wall?

Before minds could appreciate the beauty of such a work of art
You silently replaced the old fabric with the new
Before there was ever a chance of laying it to rest
Your everlasting treasure left for me to find
Without warning
Without words

Your masterpiece

-CS