little expectations

Writing Prompt: Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. Expectation.

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I am sometimes filled to overflowing with a cauldron of expectations. Ideas mixed in with opinions and beliefs that don’t belong to me or the soup overwhelm every aspect of my life. Which expectations are real and true; which are contrived notions created by someone else’s way of seeing the world?

I place in neat little rows all my expectations on the table. I examine them and wonder about their origins and why they’ve followed me to this point in time. Why do I need them? Do they need me? What are they? Why are they?

I want to detach myself from them so I may watch them from a distance. And see what expectations do when they have no one to hold on to.

the thinning web

The silken network of threads thin inside me; those webs that stick to everything that I am. They thin, inch by inch, but strengthen, holding on to heart and lung and liver and spleen. They hang on to sinew; but muscles and bones don’t groan. They hang on to elusive time and love spent dry. The thinning web spreads through veins, lengthening along a stretch of miles, traveling at the speed of blood. The blood needs the darkness to cleanse and the light to live. And breathe. It needs me inside you, nestled into a place we thought we’d lost forever.

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lost words

I have lost the words, their life force spilling at my feet after slipping through disconsolate fingers. The letters tumble and roll, trying to find a place to come together, to find sense in the falling and flowing outward, away from center. They want to cohere, create, give light and life to ideas and long lost emotions. They want to become sentences that snake their way into minds and hearts. Yet, they continue to spill, seeking the light, and sometimes the darkness, anything that will give them life and voice…and birth.

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finding the true days

I do not celebrate culture created holidays. None of them.

I celebrate each day, all 365 of them, and find ways to make them beautiful and special. If I desire to give someone a beautifully wrapped gift on any given day outside of a holiday or birthday, I will do so and have done so.

Why? Because I don’t need society’s prompts to tell me when to enjoy family, or show/express love to someone with a gift. As an example, I abhor Valentine’s Day because it shows me that it requires commercials and advertising and marketing for my loved one to remember me in tangible ways. They need the prompt of a day and millions of people following suite on that day to remember (or show) what i mean to them. I do not care what other women (or men) think about that day. It is an insult to ME and how I want to be loved and remembered.

I want to be loved on random days, when nothing special is happening except my lover remembering his love for me. Give me a gift wrapped present while we sit on the beach in our bathing suits. Or while I’m standing in the shower on any given day. Give me a gift wrapped present while I’m in the kitchen cooking, hands dirty, back tight from the work of mixing and kneading. And when I ask what it is for, tell me, simply, “Because you are beautiful inside.”

Remember me because you need to, not because someone told you to. Allow remembering me to become as natural as breathing.

Don’t buy me a diamond. They are cheap soul gifts. Everyone wants them because they’ve been told they are rare. I am far more rare than a diamond. See my unique worth, my soul worth, the worth without a price tag, but a soul tag. Buy me a Lemurian Seed crystal ring, or an Azurite ring, something no one else would think to do, because you see ME and that I deserve (need) something outside of the cultural norm. Or, even more precious than crystals, invite me for a walk through the park, simply because you want to hold a space with my energy, just us, sharing presence. Don’t follow the crowd, follow my heart. Find the authentic me in the midst of the social construct and reach me there. Why? Because I don’t want to be your Valentine. I want to be the woman you see, soul naked and true, wanting love, not things.

I am not a holiday. I am a person. My needs are not confined to 10 – 20 moments on a calendar, that calendar that so many flock to to find camaraderie and…love…family…connection. Some seek the calendar even to find themselves. I do not live there. Never will.

I am connected everyday, in every moment, and want to live that with people who see that my worth is outside of time; outside the confines of the contrivances of limited humans who believe a day on a calendar is what I’m worth.

So on this day, I will not say happy holidays, or merry anything. I don’t need to. I give love everyday. I show those whom I love their worth everyday. I wish people well 365 days of the year. Today is just another day for me, and like all others, it is a moment for love in all its forms. So today, I say, I love you. I loved you yesterday. I will love you tomorrow. And I hope two weeks from now you wrap a small gift for your lover, your friend or your child. Or spend a day with them, just because they deserve it.

Don’t allow a calendar to trap your love within the confines of a day. Love fiercely each day…and SHOW it.

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leaving chaos

Writing Prompt: Chaotic

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

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The world seems to be spinning out of control. Chaotic systems that have us enslaved to ways of living and being that feel unnatural to me surround me daily; they back me into corners in my life and mind.

I see the beauty and potential peace in this world, but those in control of the various systems want to create and control toward chaos.

I am tired of it all. It seems to never end. I am leaving chaos behind, at least in my mind. It is what I can do, for now, to find peace.

do not look for me here

If one day you desire to find me, don’t look for me here. Search for me in the quiet space, that place where only you and I can dwell. There will be no more hunger for my body but instead a hunger for my soul. There will be no more pretense, only naked and raw authenticity, our minds and secrets disrobed forever. In that moment I would become you and you would become me, and there would be no more hiding from each other, because we cannot hide from ourselves.

Flesh to mind, mind to flesh. Syncopating, melding into one mind, yet still shapeshifting between the objective and subjective, the singular and the plural; the me, the you, the us. Shapeshifting for survival.

No, don’t look for me here. Search for me in the quiet places, on the planet of my mind where only you and I can breathe and dwell; shapeshifting to exist.

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army days

20161111_125229I look back on my days in the United States Army and remember what so many of us women went through during basic training and AIT. Our basic training was during the height of the summer; we carried rucksacks and tall black weapons, wore black leather boots that initially were too heavy and camouflage uniforms too weighty and hot. These things bonded us. We were gassed together, and watched as snot and spit ran from every orifice. We realized in that moment that no matter our race, our bodies reacted the same. We were all sick and ugly that day, red-faced and lungs heavy.

The training made us strong, even when some of us wanted to be weak and retreat into femininity. I made it through and from there became a reservist. After three years I went on active duty, with my first duty station in West Germany. It was a wondrous experience; the people, the food, the culture, the technology, it was all superior to America in my young 21 year old eyes. 20161111_125142

zaji-screen-2016-11-11-at-1-16-43-pmI was there when the Wall came down and the country unified. I watched as shoe-sized cars with suitcases stacked taller than most small businesses pass through, heading to meet long lost family, heading to meet almost forgotten friends, and many more heading to meet an unpredictable future and a new unexpected destiny. Some would decide not to leave; they were home, but now free. I witnessed it all in utter amazement; I was there for a world changing historical event.

I wanted to stay, but when my time was up, fear sent me back to America. By this time I had a four-month old baby girl in tow, born on the soil of West Germany.

I look back on my Army days and realize that the memories are bittersweet. I neither gush over the experience nor rail against it. The experience was what it was. I see the world through a different lens now. I am here.

Nineteen Eighty Six seems so long ago.

(c) thezaji.com
November, 11 2016

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belief collector

i collect beliefs and put them inside glass jars, rubber sealed and sometimes placed in the sun. i shake them to see if they will blend. some converge, others diverge. all are creations living inside us, changing us, moving us to imagine the seemingly unimaginable. each belief remembers its birth, others remember birthing nations; others remember death. i collect them all. they live in the many corners of my home and mind, atop shelves, inside cabinets, under beds and pillows, between books, beside memories, inside fears, under joys. still others remain in the sun or in dark basements. they wait for us. they remain.

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on the edge of rest

Photo Challenge: Edge

I cannot sit. The edge is too near, too daunting. The cloth is stripped away as surely as my soul is stripped of the bravery to simply sit and let life unfold as it should.

I look over the edge of what would bring me rest and remember that life is in constant motion, never at rest; always wanting for atoms to collide and light to manifest.

I cannot sit. I must collide and birth the second self into existence. I must let the chair remind me of the edge of life, the space between rest and creation. I must not sit. I cannot.

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blue elegance

Writing Prompt: Elegant

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

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The waters are not blue. They are the mirror for the royal skies that look down at an elegant white-blue swan reflecting off the mercurial lakes of a thousand lazy yesterdays. The swan glides across the time engorged waters, filled with stories of ancestral swans, regal, majestic. White feathers tinted to match the coming dusk and darkening waters. It rises above its own elegance. We are spellbound by the quiet and peace it exudes.

i want to tell you something

macro-319237_1920-2016-09-8-12-49.jpgi want to tell you something.

i want you to know how sorry i am that i could not save you. maybe it was never my job. i don’t know. all i know is that i wanted to see you flourish in a world filled with people fighting their way toward extinction. i wanted to see you transform this place into the paradise you live inside your dreams.

i want you to know that the god inside you is immortal and waiting for you to see her. you won’t need a mirror when you decide to look her in the eyes. you will be seeing inside self.

i want to tell you something more.

we are one, and all our dreams meld into each other, folding over time and space until they are inseparable. our dreams un-begin and un-end atop and inside a circle. in this place, we are one. always.

 

a return to locs

My DNA has warned me that if I keep on with this nonsense about growing out my natural hair without locs, there will be hell to pay. I get death threat-like whispers from my cells that I need to restart my locs, or else.

This is a trying time, when the body actively participates in dictating aesthetics. And almost violently invading mind and soul to the point of unrest.

Like elephants, my cells’ memories are keen and strong. They want “their” locs back.

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i am wanting

I no longer remember who I am, nor why I am. Inside this foreign skin I breathe. I inhale the world I’ve wished for in far away dreams and exhale the world I exist in, bedeviled by those who swim in blood red ego.

I am wanting yesterday, packed up to take with me into tomorrow. It is in that place ahead where I’ll find what I seek. I am wanting.

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death, the great silencer

When all is said and done, we are all rendered mute.

Death does not care about our feelings nor opinions about our political leanings, religious beliefs, the latest fashion fails, even our existence. It is the great silencer. And one day it will silence our opinions and feelings, every thought.

All that will live on is an idea. Hope only for the greatest of our ideas to infect those who live on after us.

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