The fixings I’ve got 7/23/15

I creatively benefit from my own self-sabotage, from the shatterings, repeatable and repeated. Maybe out of a kind of inborn boredom, deductions come my way. First I stare out, just stare outwardly in wonder and dismay. Then that repeated into a familiarity until out of boredom, a notice takes place. First, a notice like the first drop of perceptible rain touching me with evidence as an impression. Then I take up the thought. The thought that that notice breeds an excitement, a small spark under the deluge of compliance and complaint. But richly so, much like as light reflected off of the rough diamond to know that that ‘facet-has-source’ is its own religion. A fragment, dressed in dismay, reveals not only inroads as to a how but deeper insights into a why and where, from within me. There is not just one lonely fragment but eventually many, as if a broken mirror can stare clearly into its solid state yet secret past and reflect. The confession of details is into a choir. Surely for me to discover, from the damaged of me as directions and decodes! But yes, the origin of the song can be confoundedly hummed then eventually sung. And the who of me, who is now singing it alive, is grateful for these self-sabotage findings. Maybe it takes tragedy to make the essence of melody rise up from my heart, from my spirit. What creative enterprise dresses the salad of setbacks and suffering’s dismay? Hey, I just start with the fixings I’ve got . . .