Tag Archives: Kristina Marie Morgan

Today is September 8, 2014. I am alive and well.

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New poem.

Love

She doesn’t know how the drapes came to be zippered shut. But they did. And locked. His light got tied back behind his ears. The ball cap helped keep the light in its place. So when she met him that day for lunch, she was blind to the beauty he offered. No light pushed the sounds of love forward onto her plate of food. The meat was tough and the barbarian within signaled to her to take it into her own hands. Bite hard and pull ferociously at what remains outside the mouth. Just yesterday she accused him with small words of cheating. He assured her with bigger words that that was not the truth. At lunch it became all too much and he cried tears onto wilted lettuce. They left for home without finishing eating, her hand in his. She doesn’t know how the drapes came to be open before the window. In tender light she lifted her skirt and invited him to come home.

This poem is not my truth. Guy is never coming back. Nor would I invite him to. Third time cheating is quite enough. I will not become blinded by the love I still have for him. What we shared is over. It has been 6 months since I’ve seen him. I am free to shine in other places with other people. And I do shine. And I do love. My friends are fabulous.

 

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Today is September 5, 2014. I am alive and well.

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Poem for your pleasure…..I hope

When the World Turns Blue

There is little to look at outside of water. Black Converse sneakers laced to the ankle begging to meet the earth halfway between the dream and a next step forward. The next step forward is hard as stale toast and as necessary as lips. Lips blow horns, blow trombones. Saxophones. Keep food from slipping past the teeth. Console. Welcome. Say good-bye. Sensuality. Sweet. So sweet. Even chapped they will whistle. Lovely. Remember this when the next step forward places you below water and you need a straw to breathe with. And the moon rolls around the track in a fifteen minute mile. Slowly. I float head above the water. Breasts. Midriff. Thighs. Knees. Shins. Imagine black Converse sneakers. Imagine God wearing black Converse sneakers in one of many incarnations. Imagine God.

Today is September 1, 2014. I am alive and well.

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I never know where the inspiration for a delightful day comes from. I’m awake enough to know when I see it, which is good because sometimes it is subtle. The following was not subtle.

I went to my mental health site to see the psychiatrist, whom I thought would be Sharon. No Sharon. Instead a Dr. Elliot. A man rather than a woman. Jeannie, the administration assistant, told me I would like him. When he came out to get me from the waiting room, he shook my hand and said “I am alive and well today.” He was following my blog!! And he ordered my book Mind Without a Home!

Once in his office, he showed me a card I had sent him. I had seen him before! And loved him. He’s a Southern gentleman who loves opera and classical music. And he loves what he does professionally. I sent him a card in thanks, wishing he could be my permanent doctor, but he is a visiting doctor.

I was hesitant to see a male doctor, and look who it was. I was jazzed. The morning reminded me that I don’t know what will come with the day, but often times it is better than I would have imagined.

Today is a new day. I hope to remain open to the experiences it will offer.

Good cheer to all.

Today is August 25, 2014. I am alive and well.

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I’m riding high at my computer after some deep breathing exercises. If my laptop could float, it would. And the keys would advance with invisible fingers writing something I can only guess about. “The air is fire-dry. Light a match, touch it to the carpeting and watch your hand jump. Make certain the kittens are boxed so they can be removed along with you from your home.”

I have never had fire in my home, although it is something I worry about. While at Stephens College in Columbia, MO, one of the dorms caught fire and destroyed most everything if not by fire, by smoke. My friend said her toothbrush reeked of fire. Such a small thing to catch smoke.

Although I am paranoid about having a fire, I cannot think of anyway my house would become lit unless it was intentional and by me. I like watching flames, but only the safe flames, the flames that are trapped in a fire pit. Their colors radiate and I am reminded of popsicles.

Today, I am safely sitting at my keyboard in my bedroom/study. Sure, I see an armadillo at rest on the windowsill in all the glory of its armor. But it’s only a flash. I see it as well as I see invisible fingers punching in the impossible. Why look at things from one reality? There are so many more possibilities. Hang onto the sky. Wrap a rope around the sun. Haul it in and think heat. Writing is partially about making heat.

Today is August 22, 2014. I am alive and well.

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I experience God when feeling light headed. The doctor would tell me it is because of low blood pressure and I might want to consider drinking more water. Well, I drink a gallon and a half of water a day. I take a galloon to work and am teased by Sid saying I am drinking vodka. I haven’t drunk vodka for thirty two years.

Experiencing God is like standing barefoot on hot stones on a December day. At first, I’m afraid the hot stones will blister my feet. But the cold has become unbearable. The heat moves up my body and explodes in my brain. Nothing else exists for that moment. The cold spirals away. And then, I smartly head for the hall in the house where I can find a pair of shoes and a jacket.

God is love, but what does that look like? A woman at Pet Smart let me go ahead of her in line because I only had three cans of salmon compared to her cases and bags of food. That was an act of kindness. I used Strato’s name to than him for bagging my groceries; using his name implies “I am more than just a bag boy.” Trish and I worked out this morning, high fived each other when done, and said I love you. She has my back as I have her’s, and God is in this mix.

I can’t believe I’m sharing this….when I finally get my bra hooked, I thank God for the help! Why not bring God to small things?!

Today, the darkness of indecision and anxiety does not attach itself to my wrists. I was my hands with Ivory. After the bubbles, the water runs clean.

For all of you who are atheists, I hope I don’t offend you by mentioning God. I just want to let you know that one of my favorite people is atheist and is one of the most spiritual people I know. I understand, you don’t have to believe in God to be spiritual.

I do leave you with a quote however….says Flannery O’Connor, “Only God is an atheist.” I find this interesting to think about.

Good cheer to all.

Today is August 17, 2014. I am alive and fairly well.

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I had to inch my way out of bed this morning. I don’t know if I’m depressed or just exhausted. It is hot in Scottsdale, Arizona. The weather can’t catch me. I’m almost always in doors or in my nicely air conditioned Forerunner.

I had no idea that kittens’ tongues are like sand paper. Grams has taken it upon herself to wash my face in the middle of the night. This cute behavior I no longer care for. Placing my hand over my face does not deter her. Eventually, I fall back asleep…

I am out of bed like a bubble escaping its wand. Only I don’t pop; rather, I fall onto the couch, gracefully of course, robe wrapped awkwardly around me and hair wild with night, to watch SuperSoul Sunday on the Oprah Network. It amazes me the amount of money her guests make with God loving them. I do respect the guests’ charisma for lighting up a room and offering people the opportunity to welcome in light.

Have I welcomed light today? I believe so. It’s simple; I smile at Grams and Annie and smooth their hair. My body is moving by feet, not inches. God has blessed me with another day of sobriety. I look forward to eating my bagel with butter and orange marmalade. Today, I will tell at least two people that I love them. And I will bury the plant that I killed. Compost for the earth. I promise God I will not bring home another plant.

Today is August 13, 2014. I am alive and well.

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I’m tired of writing about Guy. The ink in my pen gets stuck when I get to the “Y” of his name. He is a past lover who could not stay faithful like skipping from one cereal box to the next, never finding just that sought after combination of wheat and sugar.

I am actually enjoying my single hood right now. My time is my own. I get to go out with whomever I want for coffee or a meal. I’m not lonely because I have writing and reading. My two kittens, Grams and Annie, keep me in hysterics. They’re sisters and they truly love each other. They play together al the time. They sleep wrapped around each other. I’m glad that they didn’t get split up at the Humane Society, and that I brought them home, together, even though they’ve taken to batting at my face in the middle of the night.

It’s peaceful in my house. Quiet. I no longer feel like I’m moving through thick air. I feel lighter, like a purse that has been emptied of all its change. I never knew I could be this strong alone. I am the horse without the saddle. My head is high in my six-feetness. I see what’s ahead of me in the next minute, and it is good. Breathe in, breathe out, and love.

Today is August 8, 2014. I am alive and well.

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I realized that my last blog, i was not well. Out of habit, I typed well. Today I am truly well.

A man approached me in the library. He was a scraggle of someone else. His pants barely circling his hips. Skinny arms reached through sleeves the circumference of donuts. I imagined his lanky hand slipping the one misplaced strand of hair behind his ear which was a lighter black than the color of his neck. Maybe he hadn’t bathed. He wanted to know where the adult movie section was. I thought, he didn’t just ask me that, did he? I said, “do you mean pornography?” “Yes,” he says with no apology, no hesitation like the sock that hangs loose at his ankle. I tell him we don’t have porno here. He asks me where he can find some. What attracted such a man to me? Maybe he liked the way I was tall and could see over crowds. “I don’t know where you find porn,” I say. He thanks me, leaving me with judgement. I don’t like the way he walks.

Today is June 26, 2014. Despite things, I am alive and well.

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I have a broken heart. I don’t know how to write about it, but thought I would try. I don’t want to come off sounding like a victim, or as someone filled with self pity. Guy has been gone two months for work. He told me a couple of days ago that he wanted to start over in California with a new job and a new woman. He told me was never coming back to Arizona.

It’s amazing to me that he doesn’t want his stuff, to include all his clothes. He said he doesn’t have the courage to face me. Yes, he broke up with me over the telephone. We had been together for thirteen years, not counting the other two times he left me for another woman. You would think I would have learned.

I loved him with all of me. He has taught me that I am very capable of loving another human being. All this sounds trite, but I really do mean it. I think love is as powerful as grief. I have many people in my life to love. I am capable of experiencing grief and not getting mentally sick over it. This will be my first time I have suffered grief and not wound up in a psychiatric hospital.

Air is a thing of beauty. I breathe deeply. The sun is not blinding; I can see quite clearly. The day will bot be lost to me crying in a corner of my condo. I will be joyous today. Unlike years ago, I am addicted to life. I want to show up for what happens next. Give me a dollar and I’ll hand you a hundred pennies. Each penny is someone I love or someone I haven’t met yet to love. The weight of them is magnificent. Tiny pebbles are easily found in the landscape outside my door. I feel the weight of them also. It is good to have both feet on the ground heading north toward my car in which I will drive to work, grateful to have a job that I love and colleagues who radiate.

Today is June 21, 2014. I am alive and well.

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What if reality is an illusion and we are really walking around in a dream? It seems to me if this were true, we wouldn’t age. There would be no time. There are many books, though, that spend hundreds of pages making a case for reality as an illusion.

What would we gain if moving in a dream? As far as my brain can think this morning, I say nothing. Not only would we not age, but there would be no health issues. And we know that we do age and there are many health issues. Maybe if in a dream, we would be able to relax more. Feel the warmth of the shower beating on our back anytime we need to. Smell the soap. Revel in the steam.

Is God true reality or a part of the dream? I believe God to be true reality. I know this seems paradoxical. I have never physically touched God. God has never physically touched me. But I know God to be there just as I know my little dogs love me. God exists in the unconscious and conscious mind. I can sense something beyond thought.

Consider love. Isn’t love beyond thought? My niece and two nephews visited me at the library, my place of work, yesterday. Before I could think, I was enveloped in love. Adrenalin pumped through me and the feeling left me floating as if in a dream. Dream meets reality and the reality is love. I believe God to be love.

I think I have challenged my brain enough this morning. It is the weekend. I hope you all have a wonderful couple of days.