Honeyflea's Blog

being strong or feeling strong. when i ruled the world…and the formula that evades me.

honeyflea — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 02:48:57 +0000

portrait by aaron geiser

those pockets of time when the stars aligned just for you. only to land upon the pockets thereafter.

memory is flawed in that we retain the color of those moments on altruistic palettes.

illumination and wisdom accompany reflection.

just as with certainty we will gaze fondly and wisely towards what now rests uncomfortable in our weary, weathered hands.

My script got lost in the mail. So much of the momentum in my youth was spent reaching for this dream I was saturated with. it was wonderful. why wouldn’t I assimilate a version of it for my very own. The possibility that it would never manifest hadn’t occurred to me. I could hardly stomach that my plate was alternatively heaped with mountains that I had no interest or choice in climbing.

I withered in the hot sun of self-pity. Paddled out to an island, burned my boat and danced hand in hand with apathy.

and one day he reached out his hands. And his hands made me want to dream.

my head turns to see him moving beside me towards a life that I do not know and can not see. and it is hard to run towards something you can not see.

and the knowledge that my path will never again be tread alone is a reality so big that I can not quite believe is real.

after we let go of those ideas of what it should all be, of what it should’ve been: it is only then that you are free.

I am free.

found

honeyflea — Sat, 12 Nov 2011 21:22:02 +0000

Dream Mask: self portrait

I found this note today in shuffling through some studio boxes. I think it was written for me to find today.

2003

Dear Molls, I am sitting here cooking dinner alone thinking about you. You know you are the only one who can defeat yourself. This is a war and now more than ever is the time to keep your head up. The now is the moment you can find yourself in. Working, searching and just trying to enjoy life. Sometimes more than others.

But now is not the time for being discovered or for enjoyment. YOU have been given a task – also known as your talent – that is to say Molly – I am meager in my knowledge of such matters about what is good and beautiful and divine. But in the most holistic sense I believe that you really have a gift – a sense, a song for others to hear. I am sure of this.

So my plea goes:

Please, most beautiful girl, make art as though there is no tomorrow. Make art until your knuckles bleed. Worry not about who you are. Believe. I do. You are an artist. And I love you for it.

‘Inside myself is a place where I live all alone…’

honeyflea — Wed, 05 Oct 2011 02:59:23 +0000

“Inside myself is a place where I live all alone and
that’s where you renew your springs that never dry up.”
~Pearl Buck~

I don’t know that I’ve climbed as high as I’d hoped to by now.

But I can feel my fingers clasp around this new beginning the same way it clasps around a river stone.

Blindly turning and fingering smooth cool surface.

Centered in my palm

Fears drip dry.

The before swallowed up to nowhere.

Illumination causes my eyes to narrow.

Nothing less than the exquisite now.

honeyflea — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 20:08:20 +0000

time without consequence

honeyflea — Thu, 24 Mar 2011 07:35:45 +0000

home.

“Some people feel like they don’t deserve love.

They walk away quietly into empty spaces, trying to close the gaps of the past.”~Christopher McCandless

In youth, love and pain channel through a scarce spectrum.

our understanding at the mercy of time. of teachers. of mistakes. of placebos. of counterfeits.

pain was the easy one. to understand. to experience. to experience deeper and stronger and darker than you ever could have imagined you could know or feel.

and you have to figure out how to conquer it before it conquers you. I’ve found it takes a lot of failing to command this nightmare.

and love. how we toss ourselves around trying to appease the ache.

I am loved. I understand the longing.

now it has a name. a face. a scent.

I am home.

lullaby.

honeyflea — Sun, 21 Nov 2010 00:15:05 +0000

Self Portrait Series: ‘Corner Copy’

This is love: to fly toward a secret sky,
to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment.
First, to let go of life.
In the end, to take a step without feet.
~Rumi

Stealing pockets of rest. Listening.

In stillness a cadence drumming.

A pulse wed to my brothers. my sisters.

An ancient rhythm.

The heartbeat of my mother.

dark by 5

honeyflea — Sat, 13 Nov 2010 08:00:27 +0000

Sunset: The Red. 2009

I will take the sun in my mouth
And leap into the ripe air
Alive with closed eyes
To dash against darkness
~E.E. Cummings

branch

honeyflea — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 00:47:06 +0000

It’s funny when you do things that you know your mind can’t handle. Not really funny. More like stupid.

When you move in ways that aren’t necessarily wrong. just wrong for you.

I never let myself live in the moment. Not because I think it’s wrong, but because the intensity in which I tend to experience life requires meat. I need weight to my interactions. I am not a wader. I just can’t.

So recently I made choices. that weren’t me. at all. The moments themselves were wonderful. Yet, somehow I convinced myself that I could abandon everything I knew about myself…and expect different results. That this was an exception. That it was freedom. That I was changing and it would be empowering.

And I’m sad. I have always been so proud of my resolve to build connections meaningfully, carefully. There is wisdom and value in such to me.

And now, instead of feeling extraordinary…I feel plastic. ordinary. foolish.

It freaked me out today. All day. As much as I flailed to contain it, to fix it. It had already begun its course.

I had a similar experience in my youth. It was devastating. This was when I found that piece of me.

The one who can not wade. Can not entertain a frivolous alliance. Can not exist primarily in the flesh.

I know I can’t mend it. It’s impossible to mend in that realm. In the same breath, it will not devastate me as it did in my youth. I will choose to set free the ache that wants to root itself. Continue to walk with open arms. Palms towards the sun. To remember this feeling. To remain kinetic.

strength

honeyflea — Tue, 26 Oct 2010 15:19:27 +0000

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.
-Kahlil Gibran

old haunts are for forgotten ghosts

honeyflea — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 19:32:34 +0000

Slowly unwinding limbs from atrophy. knotted tree roots. Learning to walk and remembering her. And remembering I’m not broken anymore. And all those arrows drenched in lies. Scales sloughing from my eyes like descending leaves.

Gaining perspective: and learning to decipher the negative voices so deeply imbedded.

Trust myself once more. To trust that there is much living and life ahead…even if it is nothing like I understood or longed for. To walk forward with arms stretched wide, palms toward the sun. This is the next. This is where I gaze. This is my direction.