breathe in, breathe out, and release

I feel blocked. I have in a while. Every time I have the urge to create something I sit down, prepare my self, loosen my hands, and then something inside me stops me. I can feel the thought, urge,idea, craving fighting back, pushing it´s self against the wall, but it remains trapped. So I ask why do I block myself from being myself? How can I unblock it? Release it? I used to be a dreamer, running around a vast city imagening games, stories. I wanted to cover the streets with art and magic. I would create without a care. Speak without fear, and now I have lost that part of me. The part of me that promised her 5th grade teacher she would never grow up.

However, I feel it inside, floating around the dull me screaming, begging to be free. I feel troubled, so troubled that I cannot seem to feel comfortable with being my own me and stop being this socially accepted me. This Christine is polite, quiet, friendly, reserved, introvertive, a wall flower. But the real me, the me that comes out when no one is looking,  is one that talks to herself, dances as if she were on a stage, believes in more than 4 dimesions, questions reality, and always wants to retreat to her imaginary world of color, rhythm, and beauty.

As my son drew with passion I wondered how to retrieve my own. It is a long jurney...I only hope that this luster that is burried deep within the dried soil that is my being can still be found.

I begin to dig, and with each mouthful of dirt sorrows and pains and forgotten dreads are unearthed. Is it a journey to self destruction or a voyage to my own Beatrice, the Wooni that has a faint pulse...
With the beasts guiding me we shall see whatelse the earth fosters...

As the rain fell

Yesterday we decided to wander through our new city and discover its hidden wonders. 

We encountered many surprisingly beautiful sites, and some somber and sad. 

We wandered through a tunnel of red that lead us to a clash between the past and the present. 

I gazed at this once beautiful cathedral, that was now hollowed out and turned into a pizzeria where children played where the  faithful used to pray, and people drank wine where communion was once held. It made me think of many things. I thought of how this beautiful sanctuary was destroyed in the war and how there wasn't any money available to restore it. Then I thought of how faith is changing and transforming. I thought of how people now only believe in what can be proven by scientific facts, and how those findings are valid one moment and invalid the next.

We then continued on and encountered shopping streets full of closed stores, since it was Sunday, which were all post war constructions. They are boxy, characterless, and dull. I closed my eyes for a few seconds as I could hear the echoing of people walking down the cobblestone paths and I tried to imagine the splendid architecture that once was. There were only a few reminders of how beautiful this city must have been. One of those is the St. Ludwig Cathedral.

Once at home, I was searching through my fabrics to recreate such a exhilarating journey.

And as I beagn to piece together a tale of a wanderer, I began to question the idea of dimensions. What if we were able to dangle and peek through a different dimension that was unfamiliar to us. 

What if this wanderer was a dimensional wanderer trying to discover space and time through their own desires?

Thus the wanderer dangles through our dimension questioning, and making me question as well. How would he view this life?