Losing Our Identity

Have you ever looked in the mirror and wondered what your life is really about? When the day may well have been spent trying to abate the confusion, and regain the confidence necessary to go along with the tasks at hand. Have you ever wondered why your mind feels compelled to ask forgiveness for all of your pain? I sometimes wonder what it is that causes me to feel sorry for myself when I look upon worlds around me with vastly different living moments of survival. We all live on one planet but our ideals and ability to function have such a wide range of clarity.

I spent the last 20 minutes trying to fix my vanity mirror. I got so frustrated I was about ready to throw it across the room. Fortunately I problem solved enough to look up the model and see if I could find a solution. I so discovered that there was a certain clamp missing that helps secure the angle of the mirror. I went back to my bathroom and I searched everywhere for the missing clamp because why would I throw something so obvious away – it is about a 1/2 inch long. I had to see it disappear one would think. I’ve come to the realization now it might have been missing from the beginning. I could have pulled it out of the box and ignored the clamp might have loosened from the figure and just held itself in place because I seldom moved it. Do you see how much time I just spent explaining something that is rather urbane to the regularity of my day? That is speaking to how it is I let my preoccupations run my world.

That mirror took advantage of my state of mind, and one could argue I lost 30 minutes of my life trying to solve the puzzle. The bigger question in my mind now is how much does that issue matter in the bigger picture of my life? We seem to choose our battles and mine right now being reduced to that of an object in my bathroom pales to the greater contemplations that run my day. Most of the time is spent worrying about who I am and what my future holds. I’ve done this for so many years that decades have flown by and suddenly I’m left with only a few remaining, if not a couple as a dear friend suggested we both have left in our lives.

I spend a lot of time rehashing the mistakes I have made in my life, wishing I could have do overs in so many realms of my world. I sometimes find I am regretting my actions, and then I turn around and blame the society around me rather than take personal responsibility. I consequentially come to terms with what I am doing in my own head, and though quite often it isn’t easy, I begin with a new day, even though going to sleep at night is a challenge because I am afraid to face the next morning. That is inevitably my hardship, and tonight I grew more curious because I thought about how ridiculous it is that I would care so little about the world around me and spend my night worrying about the loss of a clamp on a mirror, like that clamp represented my sanity.

I think this opened the door to let me think about the bigger issues in our world well beyond my own. I would have to admit watching a movie tonight about the Sudan refugees put me in a vastly different state of mind. My world is worrying about a material matter in my home. In contrast is a refugee spending their night worrying about their next meal, a safe place in the desert to sleep, a fear of being beaten to death before morning. Those are not things I worry about and I am thinking about that tonight.

I don’t concern myself with the color of my skin. I haven’t lost sleep over my sexual identity. I spend a lot of my time worrying about my finances, not that I won’t be able to eat and sleep and have shelter, but more how I match up with my neighbor or a colleague or a person driving past me in a more sleek model of car than my own. Those are my worries, those are my concerns, those are the pains that drive my day, and I have no business believing that we all live relative lives when I imagine a Sudanese child fighting for their freedom to breathe.

So I will go to sleep tonight and think about all these things. I will crawl into my kingsize bed with clean plush sheets and a comforter and hope for sleep that brings someone I want to be close to in my deepest dreams. I will worry about everything that makes me fear my life and will completely forget about the lives of those less fortunate and then I will measure my happiness and express my lost privilege rather than raising my awareness of someone without nearly the provisions I might have to live a healthy and satisfying life.

God, I wish I could find that damn mirror clamp before I go to bed. I would sleep so much better tonight.


© Thom Amundsen 8/2021

This Peace in Our Lives

We do share an anxiety

Achy legs

Grab a thermometer

Now a strange earache out of

Nowhere really normal anywhere.

We live in high risk

Hyperventilating our every move.

And then we try to calm

Try to recall the common cold …

Well not as much tonight as I have let

This certain earache

Rule my state of mind.

Though a sunny day

Awaits tired eyes.


©️ Thom Amundsen 12/2020

When In A State

I would if asked,

Suggest my world an easy one,

Though to the onlooker,

It may seem quite the opposite.

 

Depends upon the day,

I might quickly suggest,

Have I been, browbeaten again,

Or just left for dead, I’d want to guess.

 

I wish there might be a time,

Like the night I sat on the bench,

A curbside onlooker,

Watching the cars drift slowly past.

 

I remember there were so many,

None of which I probably knew,

Or if I did,

They’d certainly never agree to invest.

 

That quiet state of mind,

Where no one is generally allowed,

Except to surmise, pass judgment,

Thinking everything always the same.

 

The screams inside that patient,

Call to arms the proper time,

The explosive revelation sublime,

Defines our world a chaotic dream.

 

I would when in this frame of mind,

Wish the world around me blind,

For in the spotlight I feel exposed,

Wondered just how much my life is known.

 

And then I walk inside a crowded mall,

Mill about in a sea of eye contact,

When suddenly there appears before me,

Another human being, in a state of mind.

To Know The Right Way

Oh, to go beyond the grasp,

the tangles that keep reminders alive,

there is the mystery of the mind,

what to turn off, what to feed, what to settle in,

so that moving forward seems a reliable

resolve to the repudiating repulsion of time.

 

Yes, without speaking in tangible terms,

leave it to the eyes to interpret,

disclose, determine in words,

what shall be thought to reserve judgment.

 

When standing on the street,

look into a man’s eyes,

is he relaxed, skeptical, terrible

in this seeming expression on a hot summer day.

 

While sitting in a local cafe,

she buried her face in paperwork,

a bomb goes off nearby and she doesn’t twitch,

for in our world we don’t feel explosions,

we only create war inside our brain,

that is the place we store the fuse, the powder keg,

the nuclear option to saving grace.

 

Oh, the notions of moving forward,

to know the right words,

to recognize complete action,

beyond simple presumptuous fiction.

How can a world determine,

peace,

when locked into the tenets of this

seemingly societal scrutiny,

makes allowances,

to suggest the human condition,

is flawed.

A Morning Notion

Begin in sunlit sky beguiler day
The same result might be impossible.
We wander in mind to discover way
Breathe positivity remarkable.
~
In life to know in peace delightful air
Think heartfelt, soulful, suggest promotion.
Find fortune inside sweet beautiful fare
Solidify choice inside elation.
~
What hold will truth create family love
Universals speak in magnetism
Celebrate change demand history hove
Live free live dignified mannerism.
~
I woke again to fright anxiety
Compassion in winsome allegory

These are the people I remember

I listen to a certain melody to bring me somewhere,

need to step out of where I am,

perhaps an escape,

one might call it a sojourn,

only works when I can find my right rhythm,

my beat, my way of departing from my real place,

into that world of imagination.

I use music to get me there,

but it can take a lot of hours,

just like the many days that have passed,

those that I recall when the words and tones of music

help me return to that place,

cold or bitter with the pain of my reality,

I can still find myself there.

I listen to music to bring me home again,

to that place we’re only supposed to go when we are ready to be there,

I suppose it is like a journey to another time,

that imagined pedestal too high to climb.

I have my music as a sort of blanket,

that one to suffice when emotions raw I can’t handle any outcomes

on my own.

I need your music to bring me there, again.

Whisper Wild Words

When everything seems to wane

we tend to

circle our wagons

we tend to

issues that matter

we tend to

run with the masses

whenever it seems our lives matter.

~

What happens while we forget,

how many miles

of open ground do we cover

how many miles

of indecision do we wander

how many miles

of afterthought do we compile

whenever it seems our lives matter.

~

I lost a friend the other day,

she seemed to be tired,

of trying to meet the needs of a world,

she seemed to be tired

of all the bullshit that crossed her desk,

she seemed to be tired

of trying to meet the needs of the man

whenever it seems our lives matter,

~

Whenever it seems our lives matter

the world around us seems to bother.

Chosen Fog

A certain peace

a shallow view

misty rain waits

under a cloud of misconception

Unless of course we walk right through.

The bold imagination

a stark contrast to indecision

truly a wonder it might be

to wallow in the atmospheric velvet

of a morning sunlight

just beyond our reach.

~

Play in the mud,

feel the earth seeping,

wet, grainy, aftermath

that cling,

soft mettled reaction

to what just occurred,

what reminders we might have,

to walk away with soiled

naked toes.

~

On a clear day,

an energy pulls upon

our inner soul,

asking us, begging to be free

inside the sunlight’s wondrous

brilliance,

the heat that eats away any

foreboden aftermath

of conscious gravy.

The light only shines

enough to offer a solace.

~

On a journey in the morning,

wetlands teeming with nature’s truth

a slow cloudy mist,

a photographer’s dream

like a droplet of poured paint

on virtual canvas.

~

I did wonder of the isolation,

and hoped the truth might lie

in only the recognition

rather than my disappearing dreams

State of Mind

Well it seems rather simple when we look it square in the eye,

you’re either thinking racist thoughts or your not,

it seems like it ought to be that simple in our world today,

yet, we now have to include state of mind.

~

We used to get away with recognizing hatred as evil,

a mile away you could see it in their eyes

today, we stand right next to one another and yet still

really haven’t a clue of that state of mind.

~

Inside a church where people stood and prayed and bled

they fell together in their efforts to be led

though hadn’t any idea of the person standing so nearby

on that particular day amidst their state of mind.

~

We go to work sometimes in a dull morning only wishing

to stay in bed sometimes for lovely reason,

yet we smile, we nod, we open doors altogether while

inside we may discretely hide a state of mind.

~

So who is it that can wonder how to corner the market

stand next to one another and smile genuine,

who knows the next time we are all leaning toward the sun

we won’t be yearning upon a certain state of mind.

~

I suppose it might be easy to offer a simple solution

It always is so much better in the right state of mind

Letting the Blues Speak

depression

Sometimes I stare at a blank wall,

I mean I really do, could actually describe the texture,

cold and sort of metallic gray with a never ending mass,

invisible to the eye,

your eyes of course.

Those of you that walk around me,

seem able to walk right through, and when on the other side,

take a moment to glance back,

to see if I might be coming along,

might be joining you,

might have forgotten that you just walked directly through

my steel wall of agony,

that piece of reality, my eyes, how easily it reappears.

~

I’m occasionally drawn directly to the girth of the wall,

just a sort of daily hello,

a greeting to an old friend.

We all know about the nemesis that became our

greatest advocate when push came to …

ah you know I cannot do that.

This wall isn’t going to move,

sedentary and powerful to the eye,

that is,

my eye of course.

you are unable to see it nor am I willing to let you inside.

Perhaps if I did that the illusion would crumble away silent,

sort of like that long process of erosion,

a chalky substance that if you pick at it, grows further,

breaks away, like the pock holes of your garage cement.

Those holes are real, you can see them, step on them,

see moisture gather inside cracks on a rainy afternoon.

~

This wall stays pretty static, whenever the facade visits, well,

that security of its massive presence surely remains.