This Place

I found this scribbled on a piece of paper, when I was going through some old journals and boxes of mementos.

-----------

this place
what can I say about this place
were it not for the properties known to me
i would not have come here to begin with
the fallacy of their truths
the untimeliness of the years
it's much less than i care to experience
such an unfriendly place
with it's tempting unruliness

© Rachelle LeCount

See last June's postings

Beautiful Things

Every day I write the list
Of reasons why I still believe they do exist
(a thousand beautiful things)
And even though it's hard to see
The glass is full and not half empty
(a thousand beautiful things)
So... light me up like the sun
To cool down with your rain
I never want to close my eyes again
Never close my eyes
Never close my eyes

I thank you for the air to breathe
The heart to beat
The eyes to see again
(a thousand beautiful things)
And all the things that's been and done
The battle's won
The good and bad in everyone
(this is mine to remember)
So ...
Here I go again
Singin' by your window
Pickin' up the pieces of what's left to find

The world was meant for you and me
To figure out our destiny
(a thousand beautiful things)
To live
To die
To breathe
To sleep
To try to make your life complete
(yes yes)
So ...
Light me up like the sun
To cool down with your rain
I never want to close my eyes again
Never close my eyes
never close my eyes ...
That is everything I have to say
(that's all I have to say)

My Name is Diaphanous

I am Diaphanous
And I am weightless
I am serene and impalpable
Nebulous and yet material
I am the obscurity of a parable
As vague as the wings of a moth
I am delicate and I am meager
Though I am porous and thirsty
I am powdery fluorescence
Ever ambiguous and yet distinct
I am the transparency of a cloud
I am weightless
And I am Diaphanous

© Rachelle
June 2011

Also see:
Door of Glass
Bells of Heaven
Pegs & Holes

Lately

What's going on with me lately? Dentists, Dogs and Closets - that's what.

Our poor oldest shih tzu, Chester, started having seizures a few months back and they're getting worse. Perhaps the heat it contributing.

A closet make-over that was supposed to last a weekend has turned into three weeks.

Major dental procedures are planned for the next year or two. They'll have to be spread out over a period of time due to insurance limitations. Not to mention the problem I have with TMJ. I also have panic attacks at the dentist's office sometimes. But I'm developing a relationship with this one, so it's getting a little easier.

While I'm working on various projects and otherwise being scattered brained due to my busy-headed nature, particularly under stress, I have lines of poetry and things I want to write that swim around in my head, but I can't seem to relax into it. Oh well.

That covers the basics of what's up with me.

Witness

This song has a special place in my heart.

"Witness"
by Sarah McLauchlan



Make me a witness
take me out
out of darkness
out of doubt

I won't weigh you down
with good intention
won't make fire out of clay
or other inventions

Will we burn in heaven
like we do down here
will the change come
while we're waiting

Everyone is waiting

And when we're done
soul searching
and we carried the weight
and died for a cause
is misery
made beautiful
right before our eyes
will mercy be revealed
or blind us where we stand

Will we burn in heaven
like we do down here
will the change come while we're waiting
everyone is waiting

Naming A Lake

This is something I wrote a few years back and felt it needed to be tidied up a bit.

----

I have come to the conclusion that naming a thing perhaps lessens it's value. Words are deviant. They may be necessary tools of human communication, but in reality they are only symbols of a thing, rather than the thing itself.

I could say "Look, there is a lake." But what have I said? I might rather have pointed out the thousands of sparkling reflections of sunlight, or the splashing sounds of a log as it bounces on the surface. While someone else envisions a source of an evening's meal, or the elementary composition of liquids. They might say "No. This is too small. It is, rather, a pond." While I have thoughts of frogs perched on lily pads.

In calling it a lake, I have provided too narrow a definition. Then, again, perhaps too broad. It would be better if I had pointed out the sounds or the tiny splashes and twinkling reflections. Would I be wiser to reference the way in which the water sways, or make note of the scent of bedding trout.

So now, I think I should refrain from calling it a lake again because, in doing so, I've lessened it's value.

© Rachelle

To He Who Created

And so she says to he who has created her:

I could embrace you as a wife embraces her husband, or name myself your immortal soul. I could declare that I am more than myself. And still, I would ask, who am I? What solid thing should I lay claim to and what name shall be my true definition?

I should resolve to cease my attempts to give meaning to myself. It is a futile endeavor. If from you I was taken, only by you may I be defined. If it is you who has created me, then it is only you who can name me or give me purpose.

© Rachelle

Also see Name Me

Night Writing - 3

Part 3

(continued from HERE)

i see a dark room
i walk in
there are closets of glass
glass closets filled with water
inside are what appears to be people
are they sleeping i wonder
but no, i think they are suspended
they're not dead
but more dormant than anything else

their positions are odd
half standing and half slumped
in their strange unnatural slumber
the water is murky

there are beams in the room
pillars to be more precise
like the ones outside old colonial homes
but the paint is worn off

i think about what i see
it doesn't bother me
but i think about and find it peculiar
and i still hear myself speaking to you

i see things often
more nights than not
i wake in the wee hours of the morning
i see
i think

but it seems rather silly to say "i think"
doesn't everyone think
surely they must
all people think things
perhaps they don't think much about the thinking
i do

how many things i think in the night
in the morning before dawn
but i let myself drift back off to sleep
and later i get up and i live another earthly day
as the day goes by i think about you
i think about telling you the things i see
what i saw and heard during the night

things and thoughts and sights
between sleep and wake

i think about eve and adam
about angels and heaven
about mysteries so beautiful
that to solve them might almost seem a crime
but i secretly long to solve them nonetheless
or at least be challenged by them
during the morning before dawn
and at night between sleep and wake
things i let myself forget as i live another earthly day

and i still can hear myself speaking to you
saying and opening
asking and inquiring
wanting and needing
to give and to receive
to respond
to say
to speak
to see

© Rachelle

Part 1
Part 2

Gravity

Gravity is working against me
And gravity wants to bring me down

Oh I'll never know what makes this man
With all the love that his heart can stand
Dream of ways to throw it all away

Oh Gravity is working against me
And gravity wants to bring me down

Oh twice as much ain't twice as good
And can't sustain like a one half could
It's wanting more
That's gonna send me to my knees
[repeat]

Oh gravity, stay the hell away from me
And gravity has taken better men than me (now how can that be?)

Just keep me where the light is
Just keep me where the light is
Just keep me where the light is
C'mon keep me where the light is
C'mon keep me where the light is
Oh... where the light is! [repeat]

Night Writing - 2

Part 2

(continued from HERE)

a woman in a rocking chair
her hair tied up in a scarf

the window is to her back
beams of sunlight shine through the window
just brightly enough to hinder slightly my full view of her
she's more than a silhouette
but i do not see her face

she rocks
her head leaned against the back of the chair
and tilted upward almost as if staring up into the sky
a sky that would be visible were it not for the ceiling above
yet she's more lost in her thoughts than lost in looking

by her side is a boy with curly blonde hair
perhaps 4 years of age or so
and in her arms a baby
the boy has his head leaned against her
her hand strokes his hair

she knows he's there but it's a saddish scene
though perhaps not - who knows
she's only partially present
or seemingly so

but the odd thing is the children change
first the boy and the baby
then two small girls around 2 and 6 perhaps
then a baby and a girl

changing
shifting the image

but the woman is the same
distant yet not
looking but not looking
not praying but almost
in this semi darkened basement

and my discourse continues
my chronicle of words and thoughts
and explanations

then the woman is gone
the children are gone
and i'm crossing over some rocks
intent on each step

tan suede hiking boots
the way the small boulders move and shift
as i walk my feet challenge the solidity
and they challenge my determination
each testing the other

the sound is crisp
the sound of the rocks
the crunch of stones and dirt
the dampness of earth

and i think of telling you of this
that's always the case
i see things most nights
most nights, likewise,
i say i will speak to you of it but i don't
day comes and i live another earthly day

© Rachelle

Who Am I

"Who Am I"
by Casting Crowns




Who am I?
That the Lord of all the earth,
Would care to know my name,
Would care to feel my hurt.
Who am I?
That the bright and morning star,
Would choose to light the way,
For my ever wandering heart.

Bridge:
Not because of who I am,
But because of what you've done.
Not because of what I've done,
But because of who you are.

Chorus:
I am a flower quickly fading,
Here today and gone tomorrow,
A wave tossed in the ocean,
A vapor in the wind.
Still you hear me when I'm calling,
Lord, you catch me when I'm falling,
And you've told me who I am.
I am yours.
I am yours.

Who am I?
That the eyes that see my sin
Would look on me with love
And watch me rise again.
Who am I?
That the voice that calmed the sea,
Would call out through the rain,
And calm the storm in me.

Not because of who I am,
But because of what you've done.
Not because of what I've done,
But because of who you are.


I am a flower quickly fading,
Here today and gone tomorrow,
A wave tossed in the ocean,
A vapor in the wind.
Still you hear me when I'm calling,
Lord, you catch me when I'm falling,
And you've told me who I am.
I am yours.

Not because of who I am,
But because of what you've done.
Not because of what I've done,
But because of who you are.

I am a flower quickly fading,
Here today and gone tomorrow,
A wave tossed in the ocean,
A vapor in the wind.
Still you hear me when I'm calling,
Lord, you catch me when I'm falling,
And you've told me who I am.
I am yours.
I am yours.
I am yours.

Whom shall I fear
Whom shall I fear
Cause I am yours..
I am yours...

What's Up

What's up here is that we need to get busy finishing up our home remodeling projects, which we started nearly three years ago, thinking it would take us a few months.

We started with the idea of ripping up the carpet and replacing it with laminate flooring, in addition to purchasing a new stove and microwave. But the stove and microwave led to a kitchen update, which led to a hall bathroom update, and on and on.

After hubby's car accident things were on hold, half way through the project. One thing after another, whether winter chill or summer heat, we've only managed to take a bite out of the project here and there.

Now we're reorganizing the master closet. It's a walk-in but too narrow. So I'm putting up organizer shelves to maximize space. I'd love to be able to 'walk in' the closet without knocking clothes off their hangers.

Lord willing, and the creek don't rise, we'll get it finished one of these days. I'll try to let you know how it goes.

Now, that being said, enjoy the tune for today by Ray Lamontagne.

Night Writing

Part 1

seems i went to bed hours ago
hours and hours
but it wasn't hours
just seems like a long time

laying there drifting between sleep and wake
i hear my words to you
they seem clear in moments like that
between sleep and wake

and while i speak i see
i walk down a sidewalk
i'm thinking to myself that its more a matter of meandering
having no specified destination
merely traveling along the side of the road
but not a busy road
not a dark road
not a light or day road
just a road and just a sidewalk

to the left and the right are wild flowers
pink and blue and yellow
i think of how they sprouted there
all by themselves
they weren't sewn by human hands
they weren't cultivated
noone pulls the weeds that grow between them
and they don't seem to mind much

no roses or gardenia bushes
no pansies or tulips
just simple flowers

i look up and in contrast i see the winter branches
the trees have shed their leaves
and the bareness of them is striking

i think about the contrast of seasons
and two seasons existing simultaneously

i still listening to my conversation with you
some discourse
as if only just one more attempt
and i might be able to explain
or as if at last i might understand
if only i could ask the question properly
if only i could accept your answer
but that is the problem isn't it
the root of it
my inability to accept changes and losses
my inability to move past things that only i know are there
obstacles i can't manage to navigate well enough

and the image changes
and it shifts
vibratory
as often is the case
and i'm in a basement
yet more as an observer only

a woman in a rocking chair
her hair tied up in a scarf

© Rachelle
Some time in March 2011

Part 2
Part 3

Goofing Around

I've updated my playlist, which you can see by scrolling down a bit, and also added some photos and links related to Kosckiusko County and Syracuse Indiana. Enjoy.

A Quote from Rumi

I've always loved Rumi's poetry and a lot of Sufi poetry in general so I thought I'd share a quote for today.

In this narrow cage, your soul has long trembeld,
The bird from heaven drops to the earth,
Its lament will eventually open the door of mercy.
Beat your wings against the door and against the roof; this is the key.

Diwan- Ode 791

Poems by Rumi

The Ignorance of Man

Not for the willful ignorance of man alone, but as well with failed concern does he, of himself, strive for supremacy over the other. Not in God-given respect of role but rather substantive conceit born from a fear of his own scantiness.

Though it may be that all are unyielding to the recognition of our callowness the moment we gain awareness of the responsibility that comes with knowledge, it is nowhere more evident than in the self-made gods of earth. Desirous of an office they have not qualified themselves to fill, they are reduced to mere bandits, plundering the gentler spirit of whatever semblance may be seen of her appraisal.

Should we wonder then at her stock of arms or the underpinnings of her stronghold? Or at the quickness with which she calls forth her guard? Were there greater safety behind the walls of any other will she not seek it there? And seek she does. Yet no parapet is found open to her save the one she constructs. Though lowly and perhaps artless - lacking the brawn of counterparts - it serves still to shelter, even when the habiliments become, at moments, entangling. And therein lies that great dilemma for which a suitable solution remains ever elusive.

The neglectful denial of commission results then in abdication. Unable to acquire that which, by other means, would be duly his, the province he seeks remains always unachievable. Were it not for hardened ineptness, he might reign as king. But what subject desires to be ruled by one who cannot rule himself? Will she not, upon a time, strive to secure her own ascendancy? And not of herself alone, but also field and mote, and armor and various ranks of guards?

However unseemly may be the wars waged over such affairs, should we look upon them with astonishment? It is no more or less an inherent outcome of his own willful ignorance, and is therefore no matter of the unexplainable, but rather the result of neglect and adjourned obligation.

© Rachelle

Back to main blog page

Collective Soul

Overseas through the air
Touched your heart down with care
All the thoughts left behind
Soon will catch you in time
Well, if I could, you know I would
Let salvation reign on you
So, won't you push away
All this pain that you've been through

Yeah, Sister don't cry
Sister don't cry no more
Sister don't cry anymore

While the scenes shuffle 'round
Let your world anchor down
Pull your heart from your sleeve
First react then believe
You won't always get thunder
To warn you of storms ahead
So bury all this pain
And get on with your life again

Conquer some serenity
Lay yourself in field of poetry
Close you eyes to all you see
Lay your weary head here with me

Should I thirst for knowledge
Can I beg you for some water
Should I fight your battles
Can I rest upon your shoulders
I hope I'm able to ride out this storm
So come on Gabriel and blow your horn

Reach, Reach out to me
Can't you see I need you to save me
Yeah, Reach, Reach out to me
Can't you see I need you to hold me

Should I beg for mercy
Can I be the one you treasure
Should I question knowledge
Can I have all of your answers
I hope I'm able to find love today
Can I ask you to light my way

Reach, Reach out to me
Can't you see I need you to guide me
Yeah, Reach, Reach out to me
Can't you see I need you to love me

Take me out of these walls
Take me somewhere I can see
Take me away from it all
Please just reach out to me