Lloyd Matthew Thompson's Blog, page 9

Happy

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My daughter has to be the sweetest potato on the planet!
 
I’ve had a pretty difficult time with a variety of things lately, the past few days especially rough…
 
I came home from work yesterday, and JuJu— who usually yells, “Daddy back home!” and runs to hug me each day— walked gently up to me and hugged my neck tight, then leaned back and looked me quite seriously in the eye.
 
“Daddy sad?”
 
“Yea, baby, Daddy’s sad right now…”
 
“Aww…” Another big hug. “Come on, Daddy— happy!”
Then she kissed my cheek.
 

 
Later, as I tucked her in bed, she remembered and checked on me again.
 
“Daddy happy?”
 
“Yeah, baby, Daddy’s happy now… I love you so much!”
 
 
 
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Filed under: the juju bird

Incarnate

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I’ve been thinking about incarnations a lot lately.

Perhaps it is the spark from launching this new branch of myself here— "the.1978.one"— redefining and remodeling what I’ve built over the previous thirty-four years… or maybe it is a higher portion of mySelf whispering down the line to me as I attempt to gain perspective on the present darkness of this incarnation.

Whichever it be, I am undeniably aware that I am more than just this Lloyd character, this sitcom cast member rolling in the deep.

And that being so— what does it matter?

What does any of this matter?

This is not my first life.

This is not my last life.

When this body is gone, what will be left behind, and what then does any of this matter?

Such importance… such seriousness is iced on to this brief case of mistaken identity and all tasks handed to it….

What is the point?

All are out for themselves.

All only want want want.

All have no idea what they are doing.

What then is real life?

To dance and sing with my precious daughter?

To write and paint, creating as the image of God?

To fall into nature and merge with those Gods?

To Love and Love and Love and Love?

Or

To work and pay bills and walk the eggshells thereof?

Yet even within a single incarnation are multiple incarnations… a character changes so drastically, so many times, the past lives are unrecognizable, or at the very least vaguely familiar, as if they were a dream…

And what is in between each incarnation?

Formless floating, processing, imagining what sort of carnation to manifest for ourselves next?

Perhaps that is where I stand now.

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Filed under: rambling mind

Fleshless

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I used to have an old personal expression: “When I take off my skin, I’m crying…”

 

And I’ve reached that place again.

 

Any moment of quietness and solitude I get to myself, (which hasn’t been often lately) my chest begins to compress, and my eyes well with tears… the breath in my lungs struggles to inhale deeper and deflate flatter…

Is this pure neglect, or something more?

 

 

Something’s missing.

 

 

 

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Filed under: rambling mind

The Beckoning

 

 
I can always tell an authentic Beckon— that sort of Grip that cannot be shunned, cannot be distracted, and cannot be deceived…
I’m feeling it now.
 
My stomach is tightened…
 
My eyes are welled…
 
My lips are half smiling…
 
While my Heart is laughing and sobbing in synchronized time…
 
 
I’m caught in this Whirlwind from a simple idea, the internal whispering of a single refrain:
 
 
 
(write)
 
 
 
Mmmm…. yes, my Love…
My Soul knows Your touch— caress me again.
Undress me, expose me,
Let’s invite them All in!
 
The Life of my Party has always been here, been calling me Here, been waiting Right here…
 
 
 
(i’mready)
 
 
 
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Filed under: rambling mind

This Womb

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So… this is Freshness.

This is a deliberate swirling of my Atmosphere.

My Awareness is waking again— never realizing it had even drifted to sleep— to discover its previous “Birth” was only an emerging to a greater Womb…

Wombs within Wombs.

And so another two years have passed, that version of me revealed only to be the Doula of Me, to deliver this… Me.

In reviewing my words of these past two years, I find part of that place is once again this place:

(See Death… and Rebirth)

Making time for mySelf has been the foremost message coming at me from every angle lately.

How can I even begin to help others, if I do not help myself first?

How can anyone support, if they have no foothold themselves?

How can One heal, if they themselves are unhealthy?

And so I have been pondering and searching… examining everything to find small ways to begin slipping my own projects, my own passions here and there between the busy-ness of Life…

I see writing has been my anchor before… and it is something I have felt urged to pursue more fervently… for years…

So… welcome to my Mind. ૐ

And this incarnation feels more… old?

Three years of partnering, two years of fathering, one year of leading, and I feel it is now time to get serious.

In this blog, I intend to fully bare all— past, present, future— all rambling and processing completely exposed.

I am currently human, and will also be so as long as these lungs receive my Mother’s milk. No matter what hats I don or what roles I’m seen as, I am only a man walking beside every other man, figuring things out an hour at a time.

And what matters above all is the Image I choose.

I AM.

(And the bottom line is still… L O V E.)

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Filed under: rambling mind

Hold Me.

.   Breath of Heaven…   Hold me together…       Be forever near     Me…       Breath of Heaven…           Lighten my Darkness…       Pour over   Me…       .


Filed under: old blogspot

epOch

.   What’s my name?   That which I’m known as no longer holds Me. The length of my arm reaches into The Sea, The rivers and trickles have filled it to here, But the sources are blurry and frosted with   Fear.   When something is seen, it can no longer hide. When something is realized, it cannot be denied. When something is both— and still it survives— What does it mean to the Organ inside?   The trail of Her leads us all forward through night. The scent of Her guides Me to darkness so bright. How did I come to this planet with sight To perceive all these Aeons losing the Fight…       Lloyd Matthew Thompson 12.20.2011 — 04:57pm       .


Filed under: old blogspot

[ BaL(ove)ance ]

.     When Love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as Love crowns you, so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.

All these things shall Love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your Heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s Heart.

But if, in your fear, you would seek only Love’s peace and Love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of Love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For Love is sufficient unto Love.

When you Love you should not say, “God is in my Heart,” but rather, “I am in the Heart of God.”
And think not you can direct the course of Love, for Love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill Itself.
But if you Love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of Love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of Loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate Love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips...     [Kahlil Gibran] The Prophet       .


Filed under: old blogspot