Dwindling Sunlight

The only trust required
is to know
that when there is one ending
there will be another beginning.

It was dark when I headed to work yesterday morning and yet I knew that beyond the mask of darkness, the sky was still there, the sun would rise soon and a new day was waiting for me. I held hope in my heart, I don't know how else to live. For me, taking breathes and steps through each day is not living, it's not enough.

A dear friend of mine has not gotten there yet. Something holds her back and I am unclear how to help her. I wish for her a butterfly life. Not short like a butterfly but the ability to feel lighter than air, with burdens lifted and fly through her days.

You have to want to fly so much you are willing to give up being a caterpillar. When a caterpillar becomes a butterfly, it kinda sorta dies. However, what looks like death is really when you start to live.

Does that make sense?

In its own way, summer has once again died. The greens of high summer soften into autumn's mellow hue's. Life will still go on.

~~

I put the key into the doorknob and turned it until I heard the click. Such a tiny noise but it makes me feel secure, knowing that with one tiny act from me, my sanctuary and the little it holds, is safe as it can be. Why then have I not found a key that protects my heart in the same simplistic manner.

....and so she said to me, "I'm dying."

How was I to respond? Was it a statement she wanted a response to or was it a way of asking for help?

I was unsure mostly because I don't know her well. Funny how you can spend a life time with someone and not really know them. Some people are good at wearing masks, they don't know how else to exist. Truthfully, it is very sad but at the same time, frustrating. All the same, I can relate.

I don't know how to be of help
what tools can I possibly offer

And yet, it was kinda sorta out there....the request to help.

She talks to me of Alice and the White Rabbit. How there was a room where potions could make you small or tall, changing your body form. Changing the outside does not make the inside any different at all. You can smile but not feel the joy inside that a smile displays. In her life, I wish her many days of sincere smiles that fill her heart to overflowing.

I hear in her voice and words that her well has run dry. She can't find the plus in the positive thinking. She wants to sound off but can't find the words to accomplish the tasks that need to be completed. In her world, dark clouds form overhead. It feels as though the sky will fall. At night, when she sits in her room alone, the most active company she keeps is the clock that stares back at her.

I talked to her on the phone yesterday. I could hear how hard it had gotten for her just to take a breathe. It was as if all of her energy was gone with nothing left to do but focus on her next breathe. It was my hope that she would not give up on that also. My hope is that in her time of waiting, even though she grows weary, there will be a moment of dawn that will inspire to keep moving on and believe that the sunrise will return.

I wish for her strength to make it through another day, even though the days to her, seem like an uphill climb. At this point, it seems that is all she knows. Her wheels spin. She digs her heels in. She is trying to do her best, at least I think she is. What holds her back is the fear of falling again.


Dear friend, I know the pain you hold on to is real. I wish you could instead, hold on to the concept that you will survive. I wish you could wake this morning and decide to let go of the fears that hang around and not feel that you are on the edge. I think it will be then that you find out what others have discovered - there isn't an easy way out and even though it might not look that way, you will live to fight another day. Maybe the feelings that you have will kinda sorta remind you that you are alive.

I love you
Try not to be afraid



A pearl is a beautiful thing that is produced by an injured life. It is the tear that results from the injury of the oyster. The treasure of our being in this world is also produced by an injured life. If we had not been wounded, if we had not been injured, then we could not produce the pearl.