Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Rain


Buildings soar dark into a lowering sky and bleed colourless into the grey of forgotten spring. A window shimmers, a glittering beacon in a dreary landscape as the sleeting rain’s sibilant whisper hisses secrets against the wavering glass of the steel towers. Fog eddies and obscures the soaring needle of the Tower, which fades in and out of the brooding sky like a phantom of century thought and a dream of nirvana in a concrete jungle of broken hopes.

In the distance, the lake sways restlessly, breathing moisture into gloom and roiling under the shifting expanse of sky, its spring promise obscured and forgotten. Sky and lake meld and flow into variations of grey and pale white, and I stand looking and throw out a yearning cry into a silence so profound my voice slips unheard into the cacophony of a grey city.

I look down and wonder at how grey days and rain can make colours so intense yet muted as my eyes are captured by the gleaming stone of the Labyrinth, washed red in this early morning gloom. I can see the struggling spring green of buds obscured by rain and the noisesome murk of despair and watch the trembling branches sway, pushed by a wind which scuds clouds across an unforgiving sky.

I am capricious and moody, a hormonal hotbed of erratic emotions and crawling sexual want. I crave the touch of hand, the slippery sliding softness of muscle and want and yet my skin flickers like an irritated cat and I know I would buck like an errant, moody little mustang being pressed by a snorting stallion given a chance.

My breasts are aching and full, the nipples swollen crimson tips under the thin silk of the black lace, wanting cupping and squeezing and the sharp sting of demand.

As the harshness of past despair and all encompassing sorrow licks familiarity into the eroded trenches of a soul buffeted by harsh realities, the resilient and unwavering spirit of this celtic seal is rallying. I am a creature of the world, of physical appetites and spiritual wonderings, grounded in the now and in the pain of living and buoyed by my constantly questing need to see beyond the immediate and find the kernel of truth which often precipitates angst yet in the end, provides at least a hint of the “why”.

I am figuring out what and who I am and in the doing, finding a certain personal salvation.

I realize that attempting to rigidly define and delineate oneself is ultimately self-defeating and an impossibility. We are, each of us, unique. Our desires, personalities, our issues, the level of our self-esteem; the factors that created us, the trials, tribulations, the joys and supports - all are unique to the individual and cannot be replicated or recreated in someone else. As I muse on realities once thought impossible, I realize attempting to rigidly define and delineate roles is ultimately self-defeating and an impossibility.

And by that token, each interaction we have will by definition be exceptional and distinctive and exclusive to the particular interaction between two distinctive individuals.

It seems to me, ultimately self-defeating to try to adhere to a rigid set of regulations and defined terms. To limit ourselves to black and white rules, to net our souls in gossamer strands made of steel, to refuse to look beyond what protocol and what we often perceive (and not always accurately) others demand – would be, to my mind, pointless.

Often we ourselves remain the worst and harshest censors of possibilities; caught in the throes of past experience, trussed and roped in rituals endlessly played out and patterns (destructive or not) endlessly repeated, we convince ourselves that change is inimical to happiness.

But choices can open doors.

Changing perspectives can provide new venues to contemplate, new avenues to explore.

I stand and watch the weeping sky breathe Spring into being and see a small, steady light of maybe. I’ve been removed from the reality of body and blood and tendon and as I feel the blood coursing through the flesh of now, the swelling of need and possibility becomes concrete.

11 comments:

M:e said...

What a stunning picture!!

I love the line about choices can open doors.....they can.....and whatever we often feel we don't have we truly DO have choices, we just sometimes lack the will or the courage to make them.

love and hugs xxx

Loving Annie said...

Sometimes you just need to get laid, Selkie - hot connected frantic passionate monkey sex mingled with the tenderest of making love... And that can make everything right with the world.

runzwithknives said...

Yes, we do tend to bind ourselves tightly at times, don't we.

Every choice opens doors just as non-choice is an open door. We just don't always perceive the door is still open in that non-choice.

Knock and the door will be opened...

Your writing has an undercurrent of tension, yet I find it soothing at the same time.

Buffalo said...

I read and knew it to be substantial.

Good job, Selkie.

Gillette said...

We find our way according to our spiraling time line, our unique paths. It can be no other way, indeed.

"I stand and watch the weeping sky breathe Spring into being and see a small, steady light of maybe."

Oh..this made my body melt and open. Truly. Thank you for it.

word verification? "floater" Perfect!

selkie said...

M:e - isn't the pic amazing - unfortunately I couldn't find who was responsible for it or I would have given credit. And agree completely about choices - it is almost inevitably a LACK of courage or fear that prevents us moving foward.

Annie - I WISH - grins -

rwk - yes, NOT makiing a choice is sometimes the most decided choice made - and the "loudest" - and thank you for enjoying my writing - I love writing and sometimes I think I just write drivel becuase I love the sound of words so much.

Buff, dearest friend, thank you - you know how much your opinion means to me.

Gillette - LOVED the word verification! and that's what Spring rain does, doesn' it? no matter how chilly nor dreary .., it is awakening the earth.

littleone said...

i read you every time you write.. and so often don't have any words to describe the way your words touch me..

just know they do...

morningstar (owned by Warren)

cutesy pah said...

amazing writing as always! I'm in awe of your talent. and the picture is wonderful. I've seen it before, many many years ago, related to something pagan, but I can't recall what.

simply wonderful, Selkie.

Namaste,
Daddy's cutesy pah

Lessa said...

ohhhhhhhhhh... I do love the picture you used to... and sometimes we don't even know all those open doors and lock ourselves out...

hugs, Lessa

vanimp said...

Oh yes I second the mad rampant monkey sex. I learnt something this week, something important. Pushing through those self imposed barriers and treading in territory left untouched, held back by old outdated patterns and unfounded fears; does amazing things for growth. xxx

Tallgrass said...

I'm so swamped that I feel like I'm trying to walk out of a fog. I vote for a horseback ride, hot coffee, cold beer, corn chips and cheese dip. If that doesn't work, I would try the monkey sex. (On second thought, I personally would start with that.)

I love your stuff! You are the best!