Ode to Maude

Maude.
You are a breath of life in a world filled with ideas of pain and struggle. You conquer death through living life to its fullest. Doing what you love and loving the life force which flows through you. You are an inspiration; embodying a passion and zest for life that positively changes the energy of the world. You inspire me to share your philosophy with all beings, grabbing life, not backing a way from it, “give me an “L”, give me an “I” give me a “V” give me an “E”, L-I-V-E, live”! You helped raise me as I watched you on a glowing screen from the age of ten enlightening Harold to the life cycle “Ah life. It grows and blooms, and dies and grows again.” I shall want to be you at the age of 79, simply living and loving, moving people out of their comfort zone to help them see the world through new eyes. You are my hero, Ruth Gordon, Maude. I will drink Oat Straw Tea and eat ginger pie, I shall collect but not attach myself to my belongings, I shall communicate with life.

This ode is written to Maude from the 1971 movie "Harold and Maude"

Struggle

I am struggling. I feel as though I progressing in my life, but I am running through a pool of water, exerting so much and going nowhere. Perhaps I must be still. Allow the water to calm and try moving again, less forcefully, with more intention. Perhaps then I will cease to feel so useless.

Abyss

Tears fall through my soul, but my face shows no sign of fatigue. Inside I am pulled in limitless directions while on the surface my body stands straight and tall. Why can I not be honest with the world about my feelings? Why do I think I have to be pleasant ALL the time, even with those to whom I am close? I keep my fear, my anger, my tension, my sadness bottled deep inside my soul. Wounding my insides creating a hollow place where nothing is felt. An abyss. It frightens me to have a place where I feel nothing. It makes me angry, the abyss turns into a place of anger and knots my stomach. I am in pain, physical pain, emotional pain. Tears tumble through my soul, I finally cry.

Connection

Gazing up into the hazy skies, rock slabs jut out of the snowy mountains. Shrouded in clouds they brush heaven. Ledges dusted in snow, a godly garment. I am one with my maker. Savoring the beauty created for the world to love, I am reminded of my connection to every being. I am part the whole.

floating

Caught in tranquil motion I turn floating on the glittering earth.
Two sticks strapped to my feet, extensions of my body, rhythmically carve through snow.
Meditation in motion. Peaceful flakes kiss my cheeks gently reminding me of the harshness of my mother who allows me to use her as my playground.

Offering

Death cranes her looming head to gaze into my soul. Holding out her shriveled paper thin hand she offers her services to me; to take me, release me. To free me from this body, the human condition. The condition that maims innocents.

I want to slip my soft pink hand into hers, to accept her offer, to be free from my earthly existence. But...

I know it is not my path. I have asked for her to visit me many times before, but I know now is not my time. I have more to learn from this reality.

Death, thank you for your offer. For your comfort and caring. I will come, just not yet.

Turning over a new leaf

I have decided that I need to begin writing poetry and short stories again and I want to share them with the world. So, this is going ot be a place for me to share my prose with you, the reader. I would love to hear kudos and criticism (but please make it constructive).

I hope you enjoy...