I don’t remember where it came from, although that’s no surprise anymore. But I do remember what it means. I am the Shield, and She is the Sword.
A Shield can be a weapon unto itself. Wielded with hammer blows. But a Sword is superior.
A Sword can be a defence method. Who wants to walk into a whirling blade? But a Shield is superior.
This long suffering metaphor is intended to emphasise the power of being together.
Labels are great. They help organise things, like files. They underpin organisation and sorting systems. Categorisation.
Labels get tricky when applied to things that defy categorisation. People.
On the one hand, labeling people is super handy. Provided that the label is accurate — and the only way to guarantee that is if it is self applied. For example I label myself a ‘gearhead’ because it’s a convenient way to convey an area of my interests.
I live in the present. What else can I do, when I have no memory.
Look to the future? Psh. I am indeed prone to daydreaming about what *might be *but there’s no inherent danger in that. Not while I keep it in check.
No. My problem is clinging to the present. Not to the past, to the present.
I do not give up that which I have. Not without a fight.
One of the reasons I’m so damn good at living for the present is that I can’t remember the past.
The instant a moment is gone it blurs, out of focus. Then it fades into the blackness. I can’t remember the mundane — what I had for lunch the other day, what movies I watched last week. Nor can I remember the special — the first kiss, the last heartbreak. It’s all gone.
The Edge is that which lights. That which sets the blood pumping. That which sparks the soul.
The Edge is the edge between life and death.
Chasing the Edge leads to the Rush.
The Rush is the fire lit from the Edge. The thump of heart pumping at the Edge. The blaze of soul sparked at the Edge.
The Rush is adrenaline, nothing more — nothing less.
It is also the only way I know how to Live.
I’ve been doing a lot (a whole lot!) of self reflection lately. It’s probably reflected — Hah! (Sorry1) — in my writings.
I’m trying to figure out who I am. And what I do. Big questions. But ones I want answers to.
Not least because of the series of relationship explosions I’ve undergone recently. In particular I’m trying to identify and neutralise toxic behaviours I either already had or developed in those relationships.
Or is it? I have a bit of a reputation for near instant replies. It’s another of the double edged swords that besides Perfectly Awful Timing provides the cornerstone to my ‘brand’ for want of a better word.
Fast replies demonstrate ‘I have nothing better to do’. And that can certainly be a good or a bad thing…
To a degree it is because I have nothing better to do. But I’m not obsessed with my phone in the same way others might be.
I’ve mused before about my irreconcilable dual philosophy. The part of me that inspires the ‘Neither do I’ in my “Adrenaline Junkie afraid to die…doesn’t make sense, neither do I” — it’s not just there for the rhyme!
In the shower1 just now it hit me what that is.
It’s a Jekyll and Hyde philosophy.
Sometimes, I attempt optimism with earnest. I see the world for what it could be, rather than the twisted anarchy that it is.
Wanderings of a currently diffuse consciousness To paraphrase Where Angels Fear1: ‘I don’t get the hype over multitasking - you mean there are people who don’t think about ten things at once?’
My mind is exactly the same. I never stop thinking. About everything and nothing and all in between. And sometimes it feels like I’m thinking about it all at once.
The way I think is naturally reflected in life.
Semifictional pain He warned her. Warned her that he was dangerous. She laughed it off. How could someone so perfect be dangerous? She didn’t realise her foolishness. Of course.
Ignored the rumbling of her gut. Her gut knew the bitter truth in his words. Chewed on that kernel, shouted a warning. Kept shouting, but was overruled. She was blinkered by lust. Of course.
She should have known better. Should have seen what was in front of her.
Days lost to the fire Where am I? What day is it? Why is it?
My annual illness has struck early, this year. As always it strikes hard.
I’ve forgotten quite what it feels like to be well. Hopefully all will be remembered soon…
As usual the main object of this piece is not looking for sympathy. I’m using my inconvenience as a lesson once again.
The lesson this time is you cannot predict the future.