by Arthur Rackham, 1917

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

How to measure balance

The wind that blows on one side of the mountain, doesn't blow the same on the other side.
It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Passing thoughts moving around in the mind.

Where do those moments go?

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

vicious fishes

Paintings for fishes are crystal clear. Paintings by fishes are murky, except for the type that jump above the water surface. They paint landscapes. Aquarium fish don't have brushes. I did see one that wore a beret, but it only stayed on when he was still. If he swam it would fall, always caught before hitting bottom, an entertaining fish.

 It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

contended

Nothing more to take, I can take no more.  Stumble over high expectations. Try to breathe water and not drown.  Directions don't work in these type of moments. Rose colored glass, pick a hue, to be sure all is well. The words to pick from are counted and marked with even numbers. To present as sincere.  Prophetic memories, mathematics of change. 
 It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Ta L King

talk above my head
talk behind my back
talk down to me
talk in circles
you want
to know
what
I think
because you don't
know

 It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Maintain

Perspective is the essence of life.   

I grieve for those who haven't had the privilege of a proper perspective.

 It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

sticky passages

I left in a hurry.  I walked out the door face first into a spider web.  I couldn't figure out how the door opening didn't break the web.  I had to commit thought to the how's, why's and what for's. I'm still wrestling with it.  Tricky spider and her riddles.

 It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

what's the matter

Spider hung out in the corner eating bug soup. When I finish I'll toss it to the broom. Do you use a spoon or a straw spider? Don't bother me with your foolish questions. talking to the ceiling every night, is what should concern you. Talking spiders are as common as cobwebs and corners.  A talking ceiling is rare.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Act 1: spider silk travail

Lights seem brighter.   Nausea happens slowly as a thought, turning into an inescapable passage.  Like the motion of the galactic spiral is quickened and detectable.  Slowed down and sped up.  Sounds become pain.  Smells distort. Taste unrecognizable.  After going through this several times resolve is cemented.  Endurance no longer infinite, but timed and controlled.

That song kept playing.  The memories it conjures of a life never lived.  The once happier time, the loss seemed real.  Being an audience to life is an artists excuse.  Being an audience to one's own life is an art.  To stand and give yourself an ovation, while taking a bow. 


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Libra

scale
Your side touching the floor
My side high in the air
It's the only time
I can
Reach 
What I want
scale

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

brief (glimpse to fade)

Have you ever caught a glimpse of what another person thinks of you. Gotten the feeling of what you represent in their life. Did you feel charmed by the experience or repulsed by the simplicity. Is living up to expectations the definition of being a success. Is trying to maintain a status the definition of normal and stable. Is following a path, fulfilling a dream possible only if you've documented and demonstrated your findings. Memories fade, long before all can be revealed. It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

could it ever be as good as I imagine

Thoughts created, scene played out in my mind. Is it possible that real can be as good. Is it supposed to be. Is the imagination for living as reality. Change life on a whim for no reason...no reason no no. Reason is an improperly tied noose, designed to prolong the agony. The straight edges of a jigsaw puzzle are the easiest to place because they define. Reasons define nothing. Actions are temporary. Perpetual motion isn't a theory. Chum in the water, lured in the net by the bite sized crap. Is this all the modern world has to offer.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

I want to tell you something

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

depth perception

light from below
light from above
invisible to me because of my fear
what is it you know of my fear
understood
understand
light from below
light from above
It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

bellwether

Along the way they passed a giant pencil sharpener. To make a point because that is how they do it in these parts. Some wrote stories, others mathematics equations. Some chewed on the eraser trying to settle on a thought. Eventually someone would clean out the pencil shavings. No one asked what happened to the little bubble answers sheets, that had brought them to this place. They seemed very important once. A new page, with foreign new surrounds became visible. Before they were books they were trees. If only the trees spoke louder the books would sound like motors running out of gas. Eventually everyone ends up here, from the places they came.  A place where new things appear out of nothing.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

plagued

The reality of an individual is empty space with thoughts and ideas, a strange concept in a world striving to be tormented by success.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

imply

is it insignificant, I imagine your reality is more real than mine, when you lie?
It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

warmth

I woke from a dream,
into a dream.
I said " I'm cold. "
You said " Turn and face me. "
You put your arms around me.
I felt your warmth.
You saw forever.
You answered her out of concern.
I vanished, like the temple of the goddess.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

good god I've been niched

Finding a niche, where it is I belong. Like things left behind, stuff that wouldn't fit. Hidden from sight, not for protection, not out of shame, but useless like a candy wrapper blown by the breeze. Fade and break down like it was designed to do. It would be worth something if it had been protected especially a wrapper without a bar code.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

yesterday, today...

...faster seems slower after awhile. nice to find you that way, yesterday I mean. Thanks and more as usual. Wondering how different the day will be when, yeah when...funny you know what I'm saying. Closer is peculiar new territory.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

My Amaryllis are blooming...

in the heat of July. It has been extremely humid here. I looked up the blooming season of Amaryllis and found a story about Amaryllis. A girl stabs herself in the heart and creates a flower because a boy tells her he will fall in love with her if she creates a flower. This is a terrific story, it demonstrates the essence of one sided love. It is also a lesson for girls to not fall in love with boys that don't love them. It ultimately destroys her, and makes her untouchable, which is every mans fantasy. The untouchable girl that no one can have but him. This story goes one step further and makes her untouchable even to him releasing him from all responsibility to forever live as a little boy.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

There is me.
There is you.
There is what I want.
There is what you imagine I want.
There is you dealing with me, imagining you know what I want.
There is me having to deal with you based on what you imagine I want.
There is my life I live without having to play your game.
There is my life not lived having to play your game.
There is you the winner, because you can't hear me.
You can't hear me because the stars haven't aligned? Fate, no no. It's yourself you can't see, but it's the why that needs asking.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

fresh pulled apple

Ideas stolen from a muse. Her reality in the imagination of someone's escape.
The heat of the noon sun, the toilet that needs flushing. Transported, transposed, taken away, packaged, priced. Left to die without a headstone, or a memory. Just your words, your name, your accomplishment to reach out and touch a world, like a tablecloth pulled leaving the place settings ready for a feast. Stories untold for fear of losing your place at the table. Under the table surviving on crumbs, you act as if you were. Some prefer to eat with their hands, you can't do both, it isn't fair.
If I were you I wouldn't pity the mice that can run and hide. You would because you don't know better.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

fairness

Yesterday my routine was broken. I broke it. I'm good at breaking things. On accident, on purpose, who knows, who cares. I was driving along. I noticed there were no cars trying to pass me, no cars driving too slow that I needed to pass. Clear road. So I pulled over to the shoulder. Parked the car. I got out and walked to the passenger side of the car and I screamed "Life isn't fair!". Why why has it always been this challenge after that challenge to come to a moment in time when everything seems to be balanced. I find myself so far away from everything I'm interested in pursuing. Everything seems impossible, then out of the blue everything is possible. In the dirt by the side of the road. I looked to see if a bush was going to catch fire. Maybe God would appear to wrestle with me, or change my name, or strike me mute. Then I remembered God only does that sort of business with guys. God likes women that are humble, virginal, servantile. I picked up a fistful of dirt and tossed it in the air. Gritty dust remained on my palm. It's easy to forget the intensity, when the particles that remain wash off completely.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

nuanced

I can't allow the foggy morning to effect me. When I pass the fields covered in mist it changes my morning drive. I want to stop and be carried off by the artistry on display, but I can't. When the sun is setting behind the clouds and the view outside my window doesn't look like usual. I want to stop the sun until I've had my fill, but I can't. When the night sky looks dark blue I want it to last forever, but I can't make it happen. I realize I don't know best, when my senses react to subtleties.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

That is the point

How can you expect to be spoken to directly, when you speak indirectly.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

When only one person cares about something does it matter?

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The deepest sorrow exists in forgotten sacrifice.

If you asked me what is wrong I would tell you nothing. No one is that diligent. Not one person can care too much. It consumes, it defines. No one asks for this, they are chosen. If the snake in the grass, swims through the water, to reside within the walls. There is no way to make it leave; that is the reason of time. When time is far away feelings are more intense, once upon a time. When time is at hand feelings lose importance. When the time comes there is no reckoning. Everything is left in it's place. No easy answers, no complete understanding. Time carries. It is a matter of time.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

delightfully uttered

...cold and indifferent, you say.
I don't think you'd want me any other way.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

into

Break your heart in two; a piece for me a piece for you

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The wind, but you can't see it.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

dilemna

If no one thought it was wrong why would anyone try to make it right?



It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

the River flows

A few years back a woman was chronicling her time spent living along a river. I wrote to tell her I liked her poetry. She explained it wasn't poetry it was her life. She sent me a lovely image of the river. I sent her this image of a stream I photographed hiking one day. She sent me the words, that I put on to this image.

"There is no displacement of Her Love. 
That it be held to Truth - the River flows."

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Reacting to justified ideas.

People want to be lied to.
Knowing why has too many variables.
The trouble with figuring it out is, you never really know.
People studying the phenomenon want the lie too.
Tell the truth like your under oath, you will see.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Can you see how far away

Does it call you closer. Does it seem too long. Is the view clear. When the path is blocked and your view obscured, do you rely on memories. Do you trick your senses, try to be a better person. Do you always have to be the better person. Does your inspiration leave you weak. Are you energized by your passions. Is there really a point of no turning back. Does ordinary seep into your soul. I wanted to see damnation. It was promised to me as the only thing certain.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

empty space of forgotten

voices once heard now silent
people once alive now dead
as the present is opened
revealed:
an empty space of forgotten


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

in between, the in between.

You have to forgive me for having no marketable skill. The only things I'm good at you detest.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

music

The purpose of music is for people who would be better off dead to feel like their lives have meaning and purpose.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Looking out the window

A moment when the eyes aren't focusing on one thing. The mind wanders. Looking at buildings, cars, things relevant to a city.  A patch of dirt. A large square lot. I tried to recall; what was there years ago. It didn't matter now, it was gone. Like forgotten memories, unsensationalized events. Without herald a large vortex spun onto the patch of dirt, the dust filled up the column of air, and escorted it across. Leaving it to cross the street invisible and alone. Just like that it vanished. The things that hide within a city. Nothing to track the time. A city bleeding screaming in pain, can't be heard by prey fish.
It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

not chances given

NOT CHANCES GIVEN

A SAH GNITNAW
CERTAIN LOOK
A SAH GNIEVEILEB
CERTAIN SOUND
NEVIG SECNAHC TON NEKAT SECNAHC
UNDERSTANDING IS A
ESUAC ELBON

wanting has a
.kool niatrec
believing has a
.dnous niatrec
Chances taken, not chances given.
a si gnidnatsrednu
noble cause.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Truth and Love and their dichotmies.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

frequently unasked questions (terms and conditions)

How did it happen that blame, became such a popular resource in problem solving? What is so appealing about living a conditional existence?
It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Less alive

The innocence within humans, hidden beneath a staunch resolute exterior. When I find it in myself I feel misunderstood. I know it doesn't matter because being understood never creates the reaction I anticipate. Silence freezes time, but nothing can stop the flow. Thoughts that are familiar, ideas that don't seem new. Tugging and pulling in opposite directions. From a center, what is there? By pulling on it trying to get more I move further away from the center. Sitting next to it not moving I find vigor, while feeling less alive.
It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Essentially Evil

A rite of passage, or a closing the passage. A point in time that things change. A passage that defines the boundaries of childhood and adulthood. Without knowing things have changed things do change. How can it be that offering a helping hand is seen as a good omen? What benefit is there in stunting growth? When all involved essentially stop developing.
It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96