Post I

Dearest Friend,

"By Morpheus's Wings" seems such an appropriate title for this space. Morpheus- the God of dreams, son of Somnus and namesake of Morphine, a drug that slowly draws away pain- by his wings, we can write freely and think objectively. It's an area to address all things,(no matter how raw, or hilarious, crazy or somber) that create this human experience. This is a place where dreams and reality can beautifully collide.

Sometimes, the strangest threads of inspiration become spun at odd hours of the night. Conversations churn past emotions, the rising smoke from a cigarette bring up old memories and nostalgia for times, people, and places that helped to shape us. It's odd, it's exhilarating, and it's painful. It's strange to think about the person I once was as the person I am today. That woman is no longer here, yet her decisions and her ideas follow me like a Peter Pan-esque shadow; constantly nagging and tugging and pushing for something different. Some days, she seems more present- her gods are tempting, her freedom is alluring and her spontaneity is contagious, but she is reckless. She doesn't understand the idea of roots because her wings are so beautiful. She doesn't understand the desire for peace, because the chaos she knew was all-encompassing. This daemon woman that looks like me, walks like me and speaks like me usually shows up at inopportune times. She has a wanderlust that cannot be filled, an adrenaline addiction that can't be tamed, and a constant desire to run when I want to stay. She's fearless when I am terrified, brave when I lack courage, and the fact that she is behind me and so different than who I am now can be upsetting. I suppose the difficult part is that when she and I were one, I felt so confident in who I was and what I wanted from life. I wanted to travel and not stay in one place, I didn't want to have children, I didn't want a husband or a home to take care of. I wanted to be a bohemian gypsy wandering through the indescribable places of the world.  I knew I was a pagan and I didn't doubt my gods, I knew. I knew. Now, I'm riddled with questions. What do I want? What to I need? Who the hell am I? Do I really know anything anymore?

Perhaps it's the loss of youthful arrogance that makes growing up so strange. Perhaps everyone hits this odd point in their life where nothing and everything makes sense. I feel like I'm two halves of two different beings that were somehow knit together- like an emotionally challenged centaur. Part of me wants to have a family and settle down, have peace and a "normal" life, but then I'm carrying around this clumsy-hooved-free-loving-bastard that can't make up it's mind.

I don't know where I'm going, but I know where I've been. I don't know what I'm doing, but I know I'm strong enough to handle it. I don't know what else to write about right now either.

 I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but 'je suis prest'.

Love Always,
Liz