200

I've been cheated
been mistreated
When will I be loved?

I've been put down
I've been pushed round
When will I be loved?

When I find a new girl
That I want for mine
She always breaks my heart in two
It happens every time

I've been made blue
I've been lied to
When will I be loved?

I've been cheated
Been mistreated
When will I be loved?
When will I be loved?
When will I be loved?

 

-- lyrics and music, Phil Everly

 

I don't know about you, but I've had about all I can stand of living this way. Are we ready to let go of our precious, closely-guarded identities as "victims", and find other ways of being here, individually and together, on this beautiful small planet?

 

Are we ready to actually enjoy life?

 

Are we willing to let go of everything that stands in the way of that?

 

Do we really have a choice?

 

To everything

Turn, Turn, Turn
There is a season

Turn, Turn, Turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

To Everything

Turn, Turn, Turn
There is a season

Turn, Turn, Turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to build up

A time to break down
A time to dance

A time to mourn
A time to cast away stones

A time to gather stones together

To everything

Turn, Turn, Turn
There is a season

Turn, Turn, Turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace

A time to refrain from embracing

To everything

Turn, Turn, Turn
There is a season

Turn, Turn, Turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to gain

A time to lose
A time to rend

A time to sew
A time to love

A time to hate
A time for peace

I swear it's not too late

 

-- "Turn, Turn, Turn", words and music, Pete Seeger

 

There's only so much raging and weeping and fighting that a person can do. I've done my grieving and raging, and struggling to make things work for myself and for other people that simply aren't meant to work. I'm tired of trying to make sense of insanity. Trying to get people to listen to me and see me who cannot hear and see, and then descending into despair because I can't get them to do so; and feeling their pain and my pain, all mixed up to where I can't tell the difference.

Trying to make tigers not be tigers; or worse, not recognizing that they are tigers until it's too late. And doing things that aren't mine to do. Some of them never were, to begin with, and others have outlived their time. I'm tired of beating up on myself for not having realized that, and for having made mistakes. I'm tired of hurting.

I'm ready to move on. Anyone want to come along?

Comments

[Sharon]

I'm with you. This is my year to move on. Thank you for your comment on my blog. I liked your comment about "tractor beams" and the idea that we are pulled toward something new. Turn, turn, turn....