Weeks ago, I confided in my friend, Leah …and, brilliant Leah offered that patience would show that my imagined/stated fear was just that…the stuff of imagination. And, as brief as our deep conversation was (heart-to-heart mates, we talk in shorthand), it inspired my blog title and my continued determination to use my imagination to my advantage 🙂
(*Context: Here’s what lies between PreTense and Past/Tense Context…the bitter-batter of little feat(s) that pave the way for moving forward*)
Even as I urge my self to—
“Walk-on, Eggshells: you’re feeling particularly fragile right now!”—
I’m subject to a (verbal) dire(-rhea) paradox whereby,
feeling consti-stated and vulnera-bullied by my inability to relieve myself of the burdensome weight bogging me down,
(thus, in no shape to reveal thinly-veiled gut instincts—let alone my naked truth!)
words fail but for the pot-chuck(les) post served below…
(*Alternatively, what follows is a pot-(up)chuck post if—
all crapped-up in myself—
I conclude that I’m not entertaining, as delusions (of , “I’m so much grandeur than any other author“) tumble into a rabbit-hole of narci-cynisism*) 🙂
To be (mind) clearer, friends…
When I wrote this portion of post (almost a month ago), I’d been triggered by fears of (real-life) over-sharing and over-preparing.
(*Concerning the worries that I sometimes say to much*)
Having so long gone hungry in foreign lands, I fight the shameful feeling that I’ve gorged on the kindness of those listeners who reside in places that feel like home…
(*As to nurturing my dreams*)
Suddenly (or maybe not), I fear that writing professionally will take all the joy out of my calling—
Reams of rejection letters…editors insisting on revisions, exclusions, and formulaic parameters… heartburn-(out)-inducing deadlines…
And, from this (diss-ad)vantage point,
things took a turn for the burst (my bubble) as toxic anticipation wormed its way into my buried dread…
As anxious-mess held me n the grip of cold-hearted self-talk, I was shaken—
my thoughts a flurry of snow-globe fragments…
But, suddenly, New Year’s clouds began sifting powered-sugar snowfall…
unassuming flakes of the—“I don’t mean to disturb anything…’no need to tr-egg lightly”—variety…
and sunny inspired the funny that follows.
Dear Hare-y Potter,
(Since the closest I ever came to Hogwart’s was bored-in-school, I’m in the position to give you some outside-looking-in perspective…so, from one Seeker to another, I hope you know this comes from a place of love 😊.)
I’ve heard news that has me doing a double take(-ing stock of things) for—
Whispered word on the street is—
“Rue-murmur Has It” you’re in a hurry to win a losing race!
Now, believe you me—this hare-brained scheme signals that you’ve been alarmed by the siren call of infernal internal tapes;
and nothing good accompanies the isolating properties of over-thinking, so…
all you need do when you feel you haven’t a sole mate, and dreams are a mockery, remember this above all else:
There’s no magic quotient potion(t)…
There are infinite numbers of—slow and steady wins the pace—approaches to winning…
And you, Honey Bunny, are a winner!
So, my friend,
Don’t pay your stressors too much a-tension 🙂
How’s about letting your impatience rest on its Laurel(s) and Hardy instinct to sleep on things awhile I tickle our funny bone and let nature run its (of) course?
in the spirit of balancing yourself between opposite ends of the spectrum
(Gizmo being pursued by bugga-boo-hoos and (Chevy) Chase(ing) “Bright light! Bright light!”),
check out the following nod to X-mass (appeal):
“That’s it, Inga Laurels—If no one else is gonna say it, I will!, bragged Nellie Boasten.
“We’re tired of your smoke-‘n’-mirrors…
we’re tired of being Players in your hither and yawn mood swings (for the fences)…
and, we’re tired of inconspicuously trying to (get out of) Dodge your mumbo Jumbo/elephant-in-the-room ramblings!”
Proud of her—in-your-face (it) opinions—yellie Nellie continued…
“And, we’re fed up of your smelly old (fanta)seize (the day) and smell the daze-ies aptitude…I mean, attitude..”
But the Freudian genie was out of the bottle and roaming the range (of emotions)…
Nellie’s slip proved that (playing it) small-mindedness propelled her spiteful tirade.
She knew full well that Inga Laurels could do nothing but be the best her she knew how to be;
for Inga’s greatest gift was that she refused to subscribe to the off-“The-Wall” notion that one “…can’t have your pudding if you don’t eat your meat”.
And, since Inga’s Mary sister knew Inga was too polite for sarcastic retorts, Mary looked old fuddy-duddy Nellie in the eyes and said it for her:
“Well, here’s to you, Mrs. Robin’ sun, heaven holds a plate for those who play…hay, hay, hay”.
However, the clever quip was lost on Nellie…for, her focus was on (Michael) Landon an accusatory blow…
not on lyrical puns that were ahead of her time.
The (reference) point is…
“Here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson; heaven holds a place for those who pray” (Simon & Garfunkel, 1968), and,
“How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat your meat?” (Pink Floyd/”Another Brick in the Wall”, 1979)–
wordplay speaks to coloring outside the lines…
having the brilliance and bravery to go your own way even when it’s misunderstood.
And, now that I’ve come this far, my friends,
I better understand what I’ve been struggling to grasp:
As we navigate dimly-lit areas of our respective paths,
we do well to remember that–
in its own sweet time–
time reveals (the wisdom of) all…
For, hard time does not a prison sentence make.
Rather, it is akin to a jumble of words (*eg. mine* 🙂 ) that end up making sense once you have sufficient context to see the magic in the message! 🙂
As such, rushing to judgment serves only to steer us from our greatness…convincing us that our most heart-felt dreams can’t withstand the pressures of reality.
So, this offering (written in a fit of starts and stops) is my way of slowing down…
I’ve succeeded in (im)pressing my Hare-trigger reset button.
I’m grateful to share the experience with you…and hope it has given you something of value 🙂
Until next time (which will likely be next weekend)…
God bless you and your loves 🙂
P.S. In case you need it, here’s greater context: Title is a play on the fable, “The Tortoise and the Hare” (perseverance–versus overconfidence–results in a turtle winning a race with a swift rabbit); bitter batter of tiny feats is a play on the expression “pitter-patter-of-little-feet” (given that growth is often made of baby-steps); pot-chuck and upchuck (meaning vomiting) are potluck puns–for , when others contribute to our growth in a healthy way, it allows for the varied “food for thought” that encourages us to “consume” what speaks to us; “Rumor Has It” (2005) is Adele’s hit; Laurel and Hardy were a comedic duo from the late 1920’s to mid 1940’s); Bugaboos are feared creatures, as are the evil gremlins in the (1984) movie, “Gremlins”…lovable gremlin, Gizmo is the exception—and, afraid of “Bright light! Bright light!”…Chevy Chase stars in (1989) “Christmas Vacation”—Chase’s character is determined to outshine every other home with his outdoor Christmas display. Both are Christmas movies and still have mass appeal (making for X-Mass appeal pun); Laura Ingalls and Nellie Olsen were adversaries in the (1974-1982) TV series “Little House On The Prairie”—and, Michael Landon played Laura’s father.
As ever, Wikipedia fills in the dates for songs and shows that pop into my mind.