Mundane

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This process of
Working, day by day
Steal-faced persistence
To complete the simplest of tasks
A melting into routines
And back pain
And budgets
And dishes
Of realizing that I can no longer
Juggle as many balls
As before
And trying to concentrate
On one ball at a time…

It feels like defeat
Like surrounder
Like death
But it also feels like rest

And rebirth
And perhaps,
If I slow down enough
To look around
And know where I am,
My feet planted firmly,
I will grow my roots yet deeper
And reacher higher than before
These are only
Growing pains

~An original poem by Scarlet Ponder

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The Office Blues

I’ve got the office blues
Oh yeah I’ve got the office blues
I’ve got the office blues and I sure
Don’t wanna be here no mo’

So, the moment of truth has come
I know you think it’s silly
But this beige stage
Is the toughest crowd I’ve found
So much hustling and keeping heads down
So much drive to conform
Be a pro – fessional
But a con- fessional
Would better serve me better now
Feeling like an animal
In a cage
I can sit and stand and pace and go for coffee
I can test the limits
But at the end of the day
I have a project staring me in the face
No roadmap for how to begin
Just get it done
Or else
And don’t forget
To CC nancy and ben
And don’t forget
To make the language
Vague enough
To never entangle us in the inconvenience
Of accountability
And of course give an account
Of your ability to dot your T’s and cross your I’s
No, you’ve got it wrong already
What were you thinking
You idiot excuse for a college grad
I’ll just ask brad
To do it instead
Must have mud in your head
Yes mud in my head
Mixing the raging tide rising up from my spirit
With the crusty dirt of bureaucracy
Maddeningly unmoving
At least the mud can be molded
And changed to something new.

– Scarlet Ponder

Boxes

A new breed of suffering has emerged, the color of my office walls.

The walls, the yellow walls, like the enchanting Victorian wallpaper of old, but instead flat and stifling under the florescent lights. The only escape is the electronic window that sucks me in, keeps me wanting more, and leaves me hungry every time.

Clicks, taps, and imperceptible hums and drums delve deeper and deeper into my subconscious. The slow, creeping fear that I am becoming less and less human, and more and more alone.

Funny how we think that sanity is sitting on a chair and staring at a box. Funny how our comforts are also in boxes. Boxes of wires, boxes of shoes, boxes of cereal, little boxes. They are still made out of ticky tacky.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

– Jelaluddin Rumi,
Translation from The Essential Rumi by Coleman Barks

The Lonely Road

This is a journal entry that I wrote several months ago. I recently came across it, and I was stunned at how directly it spoke to my heart. I want to share it as an encouragement– not because I have perfectly overcome loneliness, but because I still struggle sometimes with that feeling. I believe God will help me to be completely full of joy, so I don’t have to be lonely–but it is a journey and a struggle nonetheless.

 

No one can get my oil for me,

I must get my own.

Nobody can dig this well for me,

I must dig my own

No one can pray this prayer for me,

I must pray alone

 

There is a wellspring deeper in me

Deeper than my most intimate friend can touch

Deeper than my father can reach

Deeper than my mother can know

 

Their words fall in like pennies

And the water below rises in anticipation

To hear them falling, falling, echoing

A sound that resonates and vibrates in my soul—

But the waters wait untouched

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