On most levels, returning to the routine I choose, a routine that includes softball, card games, yummy food, internet mental stimulation and distraction, all things that I enjoy a lot, is wonderful. There is a down side, unfortunately, and that down side is serious and even destructive as what is missing is income, money, and to stay off the streets in this culture requires income. Another serious down side of the current routine is lack of exercise which accelerates aging and body deterioration. The worst result is that I lose conscious awareness of and physical contact with the love and passion and magical energy of the universe, the energy of the eternal infinity. I doubt anyone really understand what I mean, but the endlessly hopelessly hopeful romantic optimist continues to do everything I can to believe it is still possible... someone will share it with me.
That is not part of the routine. Sharing.
That is so very sad for me. Even as I enjoy the moments of this life so much I can barely remember what is missing sometimes, when I get home and start writing to keep in touch with myself and the energy, here we are. The longing, the aching, the songs of Melissa Etheridge (reference her original Melissa Etheridge LP and some of her Greatest Hits, The Road Less Traveled CD) and others rise from the ashes of the burnt out dreams in my heart and fly all around me sometimes taunting and sometimes stimulating me to fly with them again. Flying alone reminds me of how much I want to share the experience of this energy and the journey through this life (can Harry Chapin be far behind?) and the missing consumes me.
I can cry. I can laugh. I can scream. I can be as high and happy or as low and sad as any life can be, but I can not share the experience alone.
Who can... who will... share it all with me.
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