I’ve felt this compelling urge
to seek something unseen
An unknowable force
that encompasses me
Like fresh air billowing the smith’s forge
He fans the flames of my heart
Surging desire to find that whole
In a world of pieces.
A taste of the everlasting,
gripping my soul
In the darkness,
I find the faintest light
A hope that drives me on
My creator
My artist
The master of all
My every breath
His canvas to shape
He draws me
He draws me
Ever closer to his glory
And there I find peace…
My heart is heavy, full of stone; empty, I thought I had You.
I don’t notice You sometimes.
My heart is heavy and empty at the same time.
How does one’s heart express the feeling of heaviness and emptiness simultaneously?
To feel both a weight, and a void, together.
Maybe this paradox is You…
And here I rest, convinced I am alone because I didn’t recognize Your presence.
You sting my heart with radiant shards of seething love.
My veins itch delightfully within Your presence.
I’m floating, and drowning;
flying, and sinking.
Absorbed throughout my entire being, every breath resting safely in Your eternal grasp; head to toe, filled with You.
We cannot be separated, You called me here, and I said, “here I am, what’ll You have?”
I can’t turn away, Your majesty fills me, it binds me.
And the seas turn at Your command;
the sun-striped morning fog gracefully dances out Your perfect plan.
You appear in the low places and in the high places;
both joy and sorrow;
life and death.
You are Love, You are Sovereign and in the highest place.
Above all things, and in them.
So we cannot be separated, I am at Your mercy forever.
Have mercy…
I lay myself down as low as I can, before You I lay it all down.
For all that is mine is Yours, and You have blessed me.
You have every authority to take it all away at any moment, and I would rejoice in Your sovereignty still.
Let me die for You, let me give it all up.
To die and live again is what You teach me.
To let go and receive;
exhale and breathe;
even the heart stops in between.
So let me give up so I can take up;
get low so I can rise;
burn to flourish.
I am not the only one, there must be more.
To be like everyone else is to be someone, anyone.
Let me be wholly Yours.
There is no escaping You, I love You.
Russell E. Taylor
I parked the truck at the top of the hill and prepared my photography equipment for a hike of beautiful anticipation.
It’s snowing lightly, the sky a pale white.
Perfect little snowflakes rest soundless on the windshield, instantly vanishing into the heat of the truck.
The keys jingle, muted by my grasp as I turn the ignition off.
The engine rumbles to a stop.
Silence…
I take a breath, don my toque, and open the truck door to step out.
A rush of frigid air hits my nostrils and I breathe deeply.
My left leg hangs past the edge of the seat, its foot dances over the snow ready to crush it.
I reach back for my camera bag and tripod stored on the passenger seat, the leather seats creak and I grunt a little while lifting the relatively light equipment. The awkward position must have made it slightly difficult to maneuver.
Clumsily I retrieve the items, bumping them on various obstacles in the truck. My tripod strikes the steering wheel, and I bump the horn with my elbow.
‘BEEEP!’
Thankfully nobody was around.
Both feet press into the freshly untouched snow, forever defiling it. With the tripod in my left hand, keys in my right, and my camera bag hanging around my neck, I stand up. I take a moment to reach up and stretch and let the cool air saturate my lungs.
I check myself and my equipment then close the door, lock it, and embark on my journey. The truck beeps once to indicate it’s locked.
The snow crunches under my feet and my jacket makes crinkly jacket sounds as I look around the park. There’s a park map to my right on the other side of the truck and up a little hill. Seems like a good place to start, it’s been a while since I’ve been here. I embark toward the map.
The map is fastened to a large wooden board and sits safely behind a sheet of acrylic, its presentation is simplified for the average hiker to interpret.
Chickadee Trail is two kilometers long and starts on my left, which looks to be Northwest down the hill. There’s a few other trails on the map, but I’ll take this one.
I head down the hill and into the woods.
I can hear the chickadees and the faint sound of distant traffic in the city. I’m reminded of when my grandmother would be excited to tell me why they’re called chickadees just so she could make the sound, “chickadeee-dee-dee-dee.” I’m glad I can remember that.
Each step adds to the soundscape with breaking branches and crunching snow. There’s a peace in seeing large snowflakes falling in slow and silent motion, like a gentle mother laying a blanket over her child.
The trail is narrow and a little difficult to discern in all the white snow around me, the trees get disorienting if you stare too long. It’s easy to become lost in a trance of enthralling and oh-so delicate sounds and visuals. You’d think winter visuals would be bland, but there is just something about these trees. They twist and lean nakedly on each other, winding around and reaching out. Each branch delicately balancing a stack of snow as if to perform some kind of magic trick. One reaches out to me and says, “TA DA!”
I marvel at this beauty, and wonder in every detail.
Suddenly I’m brought back to my senses when I spot something unusual, a small rectangular wooden painting of a chickadee. This painting hangs on a tree trunk right in front of me.
It’s a trail marker.
As they drift along, when you see a cloud, you say “that’s a cloud,” because you know what a cloud looks like. Though it would take many shapes; a warm rain, harsh hail, frigid snow, electrified and deadly. But it is still a cloud. Will you then say that one cloud is less beautiful than any other? Or that it does not belong or is misshapen? We welcome the rain and fear the storms. But the cloud does not discriminate; it does what clouds do. And so consider a human, you see someone, and say “that is another person.” But you don’t know what storms they may bring, what warm rain or cool shade they may offer, or whether they’re here to harm or to help. They are who they are, and they do what they do. Now look beyond the flesh and vapor, to see deeper, to see what’s behind it all; a beauty, invisible and mysterious. Beyond the hate, beyond the fear.
There is a fear in the unknown, a terrible anxiety.
How is a person like a cloud, or a cloud like a planet, or a planet like a galaxy? These all painted on one canvas for all to see. But this canvas, that which holds it all together, is unseen.
Does it scare you?
Or do you take comfort in it?
The patterns, the shapes, reminders both subtle and bold. Take a moment and have a closer look.
Clouds passing, one-by-one.
It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?
Now don’t be afraid, just breathe deeply and remember to let go.
“Regard yourself as a cloud.” – Alan Watts
Happy for a moment
A storm comes
We part
Familiarity
Desolation
A cold respite
Unpleasant reminders
These mistakes
Lessons
Gossip
Hens
Red and black
Scars of the day
Like years
Written in clay
This moment
Not the past
Nor future
The storm passes
Sunrise
A sparrow sings
Fresh air
New perspective
Time to go
Turn the page.
To whom/what it may concern:
I’ve come to the realization that I may be alone for the rest of my life.
Most people have friends, everyone definitely has family, most of whom they love. I have friends too, the best friends, I also have family, they are my closest.
But something is missing, something very important.
I’ve been looking for you since I was a child. Hoping I’d find you in something or someone, hoping you’d show up at some point. Every time I did my best to impress you, because I truly thought it was you.
Every time I thought you were there, I was terribly mistaken.
When will I find you?
Why do you hide from me?
What are you waiting for?
There’s nothing more real than you, and I’ve yet to see you, you’re just a dream. I may never find you, that is my fear, to go through this life alone, without you, never getting to experience you, to truly know you, you are like a ghost that I wish were real…
Sometimes I get so weak, thinking I’ve found you, I’d surrender everything to you.
You are my greatest weakness, you made me want you, and I’d give anything to have you. Yet you elude…
I thought I found you in toys, toys that would break and get lost. Toys are cold, rough, lacking any breath of life.
Well, maybe in food, it feels good to eat, but it left me feeling guilty and sick in the end.
I tried money, that was a close one. Money, they say, can’t buy love, I should have listened. The ease of everything with money, when you have enough, it’s almost too easy. When you want anything, just buy it, anything. Too easy. Obviously you’re not easy.
Drugs, this one is a liar.
Alcohol, a depressant, you were not there.
Each of these ghosts led me astray. You were not there, you weren’t waiting for me in those places.
I tried people too…
I gave gifts, opened doors, did favors, I even got close to certain people, I kissed, I loved, I gave everything. You never showed up.
I thought I was so close to you, I was convinced, but at the last moment, it was not you.
I was a fool chasing ghosts.
Still looking for you, I know you’re out there somewhere, but I’m running out of options, is there a reason you’re hiding from me? What are you teaching me? Why are you such a mystery?
I have now turned inward, focusing on myself. It seems to be the last hope, my only option. I won’t let anyone in, I won’t give myself away anymore, I am focused on me.
The ball is in your court now, but don’t play games with me, I’m calling it. I’ll work on myself until you decide to show up. I’ll be here, doing my own thing. But you’re going to have to work hard to get my full attention now, because I am no longer a fool.
They will try to convince me that I am fine as I am. All the things that left me feeling alone, they call back to me, telling me I am fine as I am, but I disagree.
I tried to be average, I tried to be normal, but I cannot be. There is something more in this life that I need to find, and I can’t give up my search, I know its value. I hate being played with, teased, disrespected, undervalued, and unloved. You’re all empty ghosts, I cannot find anything real.
Sometimes I have dreams about you loving me, giving yourself to me, setting each other free but choosing to stay together. You appear to me in many ways, but usually in people. If you’re out there, if my dreams are true, why can’t I find you?
Just be real, be all for me, and I’ll be all for you.
Where are you? Are you even real?
I thought I knew what I was looking for
I got caught up in my own pleasures
The drinks
The women
Loneliness
Disorder
Then I found you
You spoke to me subtly, words without form
You said to me, “follow me”
But you didn’t force me
You were patient
You were kind
I didn’t follow you
Your call was so gentle, so weak, so deep
The echoes would resonate, when I wake, or when I sleep
“Follow me” you’d say, and wait patiently
Like a parent watching a child, with loving eyes
You protected me, you had a purpose for me
You protected me, but did not punish me
Life has been just
I am paying my dues, to be with you
How could I have known?
You had a plan all along
And now, I finally see you
I have turned to you, locked in your gaze
I can’t look away, you’re too big, too beautiful, too obvious
I found you in the sun
I found you in the water
I found you in the air
I found you in music
I found you in pictures
I found you in nature
I found you in people
I found you in everything I looked at
There is no escaping you
You are in me, a part of me
You are in them too
In the stars above
The roots below
Don’t give up on us
Keep us going
Let us experience everything
Russell E. Taylor
Precious
Delicate
Forged over time
Tough
Noticed
Appreciated
Cherished
Unforgettable
Desired
Beautiful
Multi-Faceted
Cold
Hard
Sharp
Wild
Expensive
Selfish
Stubborn
Discarded
Lost
Helpless
Used
Deep is the wound of emotional pain
when time has revealed to us again,
the things we think can be are not
nor ever to prosper past a thought.
Heavy the hearts of love’s victims lie
their dreams to be, no more to vie
to watch as a movie it all play out
for what good is it to cry about.
Deep is the wound of love’s painful sting
no happiness could it ever bring,
and time will show our true intent
as empty, selfish, malevolent.
In death we’ll see
that love can be
more than just physicality,
to end a life and end its strife
brings it closer to reality.
For in this realm is not
that which we have sought
for happiness, love, and peace,
each day I wait, quite patiently
for its bittersweet release.
Russell E. Taylor
Well, this is my blog. Please use the menu links above to navigate this site.
I am not a professional writer, nor am I an avid or seasoned blogger by any means, I just needed a place to share my ideas and thoughts for you to read. Maybe it will spur conversation.
This page will contain a bit of everything, I may write a story one day, I may write my opinions on various topics another day. You’ll find deep thinking ideas, some will make perfect sense; others, no sense at all. I think everyone is entitled to an opinion and I like to see everyone’s point of view. Leave a comment!
I hope you enjoy your time here. Cheers!
R.E.T.
