The Story that is My Life

My life as it has been and as it continues to unfold is a story. One story made up of many stories. One complex, yet simple story. One sometimes messy, but so beautiful story. One story that I wonder if it might be interesting to be told.

This blog is my attempt to put part, or parts, of that story into words, pictures, or whatever form my mind can wrap itself around or create from within myself to express what it is like to be the one inside Cindy's Story. This is an exploration on my part and on yours in reading, and seeing, and maybe even hearing. It is not necessarily chronological. It might not always make sense, but it is my expression. It is me.

You are invited to see how my story unfolds.....

Saturday, September 13, 2014

A Rose Will Surely Bloom

A Rose Will Surely Bloom.  Jesus Will Return.

The poet says, "A rose is a rose is a rose is a rose."
Jesus said, "I am the way and the truth and the life."
The rose will surely bloom.
Jesus will return.
Truly, it is what it is to its very essence.
Beautiful hope is before me. I do accept it. 

~Cindy Wolf

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

I Just Want to Sleep. The Dark Heaviness Pulls Me Down.


Sometimes I just want to sleep.  The dark, heaviness pulls me down.  The muscles on my face droop and will not hold up a smile.  My eyelids lower without help so that I look out as if the blinds have almost been completely pulled closed in a dark house.  A little light gets in as I focus on one thing at a time, but the edges around the circle of my stare are fuzzy.  There is brightness, but I do not notice.  The sun shines, but blinders in my mind keep it out.

The sounds around me bleed into one another to make a jumble and a slight hum in the background of my mind.  Nothing is clear.  My ears close their attention as if my breathing sighs are the only things that are real.

A tunnel of vision in front of me stretches out with a floor of quicksand that with each step causes me to sink in deeper and deeper.  The deepness of the watery fine grains of sand finally pulls off my boots and makes sucking noises and a pop under my feet if I manage to pull my foot all the way out of the sand.  My foot though can only go back down to be in the quicksand again.  No other option.  The only way out is to step backwards and rise further up; or struggle and be engulfed; or stop and be silent and stuck. The slow sink eats me.

On each side of me are rock walls of the chasm I am in, reaching up and up and coming closer and closer together.  I cannot climb up the rocks with my fingers and toes, but if I could, the weights hanging from my shoulders would pull me to slip and lose my grip with every new hold on the wall I make.  My muscles shake with exhaustion.

I feel a pain in my legs and my arms.  Maybe the pain is real, or maybe I feel it just because my focus on the thought of it grows in my mind.  Yet maybe these aches are real, and I am slowly wasting away.

I can find no energy for movement, as if my gas tank needs refilling, and there is no gas station in any direction for hundreds of miles.  It is hopeless.  There is nothing else I can do.  I must succumb.  I must stop.

"Go away. Go away.  Go away."  I tell the world as I curl into a ball, squeeze my eyes closed, press my hands over my ears, and rock my body back and forth.

"You, awareness and life, are too much for me right now.  Is there a reason to stay awake?  This is more than I can take."

Sleep.  Sleep.  Sleep.  Forever.  Yes, I think then the dark heaviness will  go away...

... and yet I dream, as my body and mind succumb to the sleep, that one day Someone will awaken me and will vanquish my sleep to give me a lifted, strengthened, and vivid life.



~Cindy