Lu Unfiltered

Tag: uncertainty

  • Which

    are the demonsthat you feed,in your everdaylife? The stark Sister-Not-Good-Enough,The desperate Mom-of-Lacking?The snooty Cousin-Who-do-you-think-you-are? Or are yoursthe smaller, wilderwinged ones?Their sharp teeth constantlynibbling at yourappearance,your goals,your dreams,or perhaps worse, your momentsof rest,restoration, anddare I say idleness? Hmm.I’m here toremind myselftostopfeeding thesefuckers. One sometimes forgets,a small crumb or two,slipping from yourplate,a considered realnessin the fear we…

  • The beauty

    is inthe actualliving.It’s in the gritand also the grace.It’s in theshowing up,the failing.The disappointment,and even theheartache. It’s in theI-should-have-known-bettersand theactually-I-did-and-I-still-did-it-anyways.It’s in the moment,the present.That gift of fullemersioninto a single breath,a single instant,a piece of realness,some may even call it heaven.When everythingelsefalls away.And you are“just” there.In the very fullest of yourbeing. That’s it.That’s where the beautyliesstill,waiting,watching,hopingfor…

  • The Liontamer

    yep,she’s still intheresomewhere.The bright redcoat,the shiny gold buttonsand matchingtrim.The elegantwhite gloves,their sparklingrivetscatching the big toplights.And the whip.Held, wrist slightlyextended,just so.Eyes on the prize. Only,she’s actually ananimal lover,who no longereats meat,and she knowswhere the big fiveare meant toroam magestically free. It was never reallyabout lions though,was it?It was about chasingdown thosebig dreams,that could be spectacularfailures.About walking…

  • Name it

    to tame it.These wise wordsfound metoday.I’m a writer.The prospect makesme feeltruly fulfilled,and completelypetrified.At once.Or perhapsexcited, andafraid.I have a destiny,a piece to addto the bigger puzzleof my life,and perhapsyourstoo.To give backsome ofthe blessingsI’ve so freelyreceived. Name it, totame it.I love you.With a passion thatsurprises,thrills, and alsotriggers thescary monster in the closet greys,all at once.This love couldconsume…

  • Dungeon Master

    Sowhy is it,that I love you,so very much?This crazycontentment,that seems to havetrapped us botha mere fourmonths in…Four months,going on ten years. It’s in your eyesthat crinkle,when you laugh,or say somethingthat’s bothfunny andhighly inappropriate.It’s the waythey look deepinto my soul,catching my breathin my throat.It’s compassion,and lust,and a softness thatI could not begin todescribe. It’s in the…

  • People come

    and people go.Life ebbs andflows,and today’s necessityis tomorrow’sentirely optional. Why is this?Well, I suspectit’s due to severalrelated, yet differentthings.Yep, those thingsthat aren’t thingsat all. We learn,we grow,we open up to newexperiences,we decide whatwe want,and by association,what we don’t want. Slowly the message seeps in:you get to choose,and steer,and bring into thislife of yours, what youtruly…

  • Lately

    I’ve beenwondering,as to how the worldworks.Specifically myinner world.I’d describemyself as arational, sensibleperson.A nitpicking, listmaking,stickler-for-the-fine-printVirgo.Yet,there’s anotherside to me,and she’s wild.She pouts,refuses to do anydishes or houseworkwhatsoever,eats chocolatefor breakfast,and sneaks herdog under thecovers to cuddlefor extra warmth,simply ignoringthe early morningalarm. How is thispossible, I wonder?For IRL (in real life)there is not evena slim chance thatthese two disparatestrangerscould…

  • I’m currently

    in the in-between,a place notunlike the famousEagles’ Hotel California. I’m probablybetter thanok,here.Yet it’sa place I knowI cannot stayinforever. See,I have skillsto learn,and books togift theworld.I literally havea canoeto paddle.And muscleto build. I’m tiredthough. BecauseI’m also doingmy best tokeep up thefacade ofactually adulting.Theoreticallythis means thatI should be the bigger personand not poutwhen I loseat backgammon.Oops, I…

  • When

    the gremlinscome calling,they are scary, andcunning. They talk to us,in our own voices,knowing,we’ll believethe horrible thingsthey arethrowing around,their sole aimbeingtobask in oursorrow.They are gluttonsgrowing faton our fear,and shame,and the shadowsof ournot-good-enoughs. They prefer usweak,and small,and doubting.Oh howthey enjoythese things. And we canstay there. Hidingunder the bed,or in thecloset.Breathing hard,chest wetfrom our owntears. Or.We can simplycall…

  • What are

    the storiesyou tell yourself,when you’realone in your bed?Or in thatdark placewe all go to hide,which also happensto hide ourlight? What arethe storiesyou tellyourselfwhen you’re ridingthe waveof unexpectedwindfalls andgrace? Have you perhaps,like me,forgotten thatyou are thesameperson, in boththese instances?Yet these strories,are very likelyto beuniversesapart. Why does thismatter, Dear One?It matters becausethe story setsthe course,it trims your…