Recognition.

You won't know that but I will know that I am there.

It is in this instant framed.






Look up at the sky.

We are taken on a journey.

Search for the sky.

You can meet me there.

I am not looking for understanding.

Just be assured that I am at peace.

"I don't ask for your pity, but just for your understanding - not even that - no.  Just for some recognition of me in you, and the enemy time, in us all."

Tennessee Williams Sweet Bird of Youth

Just imagine.

Strange isn't it, how what we write never comes out quite how we could have imagined?

I don't know about you, but that my friend is precisely why I write.

Somehow, somewhere my imagination is extended so that I may imagine some more.

Strangely, I lose myself and I find myself at the same time.

I am never sure where.

I am never sure why.

From submission to recognition.

I shall let you into a secret.

There is a word that sparked this, and that word is: 'recognition'.

It was Maha who got me thinking.

She kindly suggested that I might make a 'submission' of my writing in order that there be some sort of  'recognition'.

I found that proposal both troubling and stimulating.

It made me wonder:

What form of 'recognition' did I ever seek?

The answer, I suppose, is from what this blog is woven.

Mirror, mirror...

There are those who we choose as mirrors.

There are those who are chosen as our mirrors.

There are those who would choose to be our mirrors.

There are those who we see reflected in our mirrors, who perhaps we seek to erase.

There are those...

Recognition.

Recognition for me, is a quest for harmony.

I have tried on so many costumes, played so many roles, that I find myself not so much naked but worn.

If I be worn, I am not for the instant worn out.

If the truth be known, now my friend I am inhabited.

I remember the seduction of theatrical applause.

I don't know about you, but the applause only ever had meaning for me when it came as confirmation; confirmation of a journey, of an emotion, of a struggle shared.

There has to be...there has to be presence.

Recognition is perhaps in communion.

Beauty.

'Beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder.' 

I shall read that again slowly.

Beauty is indeed in the EYE of the beholder.

Beauty is in that instant of beauty shared.

It is that instant which transforms us, which heightens us, which proclaims us as so much more than ourselves.

There is recognition in our eyes.

We recognise each other now.

Struggle.

There have been so many days when I could never have imagined writing.
There have been so many days when I have tossed frustrating drafts into a bin.
There have been so many days when I railed against the beast which drove me to write.

Purpose.

There is no purpose in this.

There is a breath of freedom here.

Look up at the sky.
Look up at the sky.
Look up at the sky.

Do you recognise it now?

I am weary.

Pray, my friend, share the beauty you see.

Be at peace.