Monday, June 25, 2012

A Scar On Me, Like A Bug - Reprise

I know I'm supposed to be spiritual and all that. I know I have had the vision, know where I am going, where I've been, that I'm a human having a spiritual journey, that I'm a spirit having a human experience. I even have stories that I am comfortable with (though the stories aren't that comfortable) as to why I would be in this particular fix with these talents and these liabilities, and this way of viewing things.

Sometimes I think I have reached a pinnacle. I know I was once not only on the top of the mountain but much further than that. All this is true.

It is also true that I am a serious alcoholic, now in recovery for a long time and that my life has paid that price, not only for my own, but as well for the alcoholic I married. So sometimes I simply am not present in my own life. Just not. I am sensitive to shame (not so much guilt, far too criminal minded for guilt). Really sensitive to shame. I have good ducking and weaving skills. Really had to work to get even a little less blame avoidant and arrogant. Oh well.

A Scar On Me

I looked down. I found
A scar on me I never
Saw on me before.

It seemed old and on it's rim
There was a bright red tattoo.

I'm avoiding it.
I don't want to know its past.
I'm just moving on.

Written November 10, 2008 8:31 AM


I was still in that kind of mood a couple hours later on this day...

Like A Bug

I scuttle about
Looking under things, looking
For other dumb things.

I wonder if this is how
A cockroach feels, at a loss,
Looking forward and
Backward all at once, looking
For stomping feet.

Written November 10, 2008 10:21 AM

First posted, February 2, 2009
Images added today.


  1. the scar and the bug .... and the images .... and your ever and always honesty, well, these were delightful and quite poignant.

  2. this is so interesting, christopher, that one truth does not (and can not and should not!) undo the other. i'm not sure if i have it right or not but the shame (is it a form of humility?) keeps the i small. i think we are all in need of it. i think it is a (wise?) human response to our human condition and i welcome it.

    i love you. i am sorry i do not get here very much these days. you are never far from my thoughts. i look forward to what i hope is the near future when i will be afforded a little more time to come))))


  3. This reminds me that I recently found a piece of fish bone embedded in my arm. It's about a centimetre long, and I can't seem to get it out. It's embedded in there like a splinter. I wonder if I'll have it forever.

  4. I love you all, my friends.

    I wonder where my energy has gone. It is so hard to keep up with things any more. But really I get around fine within that bit of doing a great deal less.

    My favorite thing is the nap.

  5. The fish bone finally popped through my skin and away. I've had it for at least a month, maybe two, and it didn't bother me, except with its hard flat persistentness. I think mentioning it here must have liberated it; I don't know why.


The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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