Category: writing

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about me

Greetings and salutations,

Hello, and thank you for being here.

My name is Catherine, but you can call me Cathy. I am a poet, a storyteller, and a collector of fleeting moments. I write because I do not know how not to. Words tend to spill out, sometimes uninvited, always looking for a place to land. This blog is where I give them one.

I was born in 1983 in Luxembourg. I live in the space between work and wonder, motherhood and music. When I am not writing, I work in early childhood education, helping small humans explore the world through play. I grow and learn with them, and together we find answers to questions that often matter more than they seem to at first glance. I adore my job.

I am fluent in Luxembourgish, French, and German, but English is the language where my inner world finds its voice most naturally. I write in echoes, in accents, in fragments of what I cannot always say aloud. My poetry is not soft. It is raw, honest, and often tangled with longing. It speaks of silence and survival, of love and loss, of all the things we hold on to and all the ones that slip through our fingers.

I did not grow up writing poems. That part of me came later, although I had written a few before I recognised them for what they were. It felt like finding breath underwater. Since starting this blog in 2012, I have been slowly carving out a space for my voice and letting it grow into its own shape.

Much of what I write is fiction, especially the poetry. But the feelings behind it are real. My writing is shaped by music, by film, by memory and by the need to make sense of the things I do not always know how to say. I write because something inside me needs to be set free. And if you are here, maybe something in you does too.


Where to Find Me

This blog is where most of my words live. But if you want slightly more:

SoundCloud – Spoken poetry and collaborations.

Bandcamp / Discogs – For those curious about the music that shapes me.


My Instagram is private. I post there, but not often.

Some of my words have found their way into books. If you want to hold them in your hands, you can find them here.

Collaborations & Contact

I have worked with musicians and photographers, blending words with sound and image. If you think my writing could be part of something you are creating, feel free to reach out: cathy@boom.lu.

Disclaimer

The words on this blog are mine. If they are not, I will say so.

My stories are fiction, even when they feel true. My poetry is truth, even when it is not mine alone. Any resemblance to people or places is entirely coincidental. No post is aimed at anyone unless clearly stated. The music mentioned or linked here is not mine.

Please do not copy, repost, or republish any content without written permission.

© 2012–2025 micqu.org. All content is original and protected.

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Quiet weekend ahead

I love my life and I love my job as a teacher. But, I am tired and I am looking forward to the next week when there is no work (no school for the kids). My husband and my youngest daughter will spend a long weekend abroad. They are both playing in a band (trombone and flute) and they will visit a musical with the band. I will stay home with my daughter and son. But to be honest, they are like ninjas and hardly noticeable unless it is time for food. (Maybe they are more like vampires?) I love them dearly. It will be a quiet couple of days. Nights will be different here too, I am almost certain that I won’t sleep much. I will miss the breath and other noises of my husband makes every night next to me. When he was on the road more, mixing gigs for a local band, I never was able to fall asleep, until I heard his key in the door lock. That was all it took, really. But it was that little moment that made me relax enough. I love that man a lot, even when I am moody or irritated. (Which happens more again)

Anyway… Enjoy a couple of quiet days, I know I will.

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random – 216 words – reading time: 1 minute

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rainbows in the storm

Seated on the ottoman, she clutched her phone tightly in one hand and a bottle of hard liquor in the other, seeking solace in the dimly lit room. Answers eluded her as she searched among the dancing shadows on the walls. A swig of vodka brought a burning sensation, briefly distracting her from the countless thoughts racing through her mind. Tiny salty droplets dampened her cheeks, a release for the overflow of emotions within. The insistent buzzing of her phone went unnoticed, as nothing felt significant in this state of mind except for the faint glimmer of hope that the storm cloud above her head would one day clear, bringing peace in the calm after the chaos. She was waiting for the calm after the storm after the calm after the storm after the calm before the storm. While her mind was trapped in a hurricane, she yearned for rainbows, glitter, shooting stars, and granted wishes, even if fleeting. There was always a little bit of light even if she was unable to see it with closed eyes. Words repeated in her mind until they did not make sense anymore. The outside, the inside, all was one. And she was in the middle of it. Always.

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fiction – 207 minutes – reading time: 1 minute

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from darkness to dawn

I’ve been writing every day. More words. More thoughts. More. And then it stopped. Because I stopped. Because I got bored of what I was doing. The moon is rising, it is but a faint silhouette on the firmament. As if it already vanished. As if all its light had already shone and there is nothing left. We know the feeling, don’t we? When we are tired and exhausted. So tired that no thought makes sense and every word in my minds is a resounding question. It’s like being trapped in a maze of confusion, with no clear path to guide me. The overwhelming weight of uncertainty bears down on me, leaving me feeling adrift in a sea of indecision. Every step forward feels like wading through quicksand, each movement requiring immense effort with no guarantee of progress. The shadows will eventually give way to light, I am sure. As my head hits the pillow, I forget everything I remember. At dawn, I gather my thoughts like scattered fragments of a dream, piecing them together to write another chapter baring my innermost desires.

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fiction – 183 words – reading time: 1 minute

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From Night’s Burden to Morning’s Peace

The night was indeed a daunting stretch of time, filled with restlessness that seemed to seep into every crevice of the mind. Tossing and turning became the established routine, as if the body sought solace in movement, hoping to shed the weight of sleeplessness. Each passing hour felt like an eternity, stretching the night into what seemed like an endless expanse of time. In the quiet solitude, the minutes crawled by, weighed down by the burden of restlessness. The night, typically so vast and enveloping, felt strangely short, as if slipping through trembling fingertips, each moment fleeting yet strangely elongated in its discomfort. It was as if time itself had taken on a different form, becoming a tangible adversary in the battle for peaceful slumber.

As dawn’s first light breaches the horizon’s line,
A weary soul feels the night’s heavy toll decline.
In the hush of early morn, there lies a silent plea,
For the morrow to be kind, and the heart, burden-free.

The stars, once bright sentinels in the sky’s vast dome,
Fade to memory, as dreams find their way home.
With the coming of the light, shadows retreat,
And the night’s dark musings, at last, admit defeat.

So hold fast to the promise each new day brings,
Of hope and renewal, and the peace it sings.
For though the night may seem an endless plight,
It’s but a passage to the morning’s gentle light.

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fiction/poetry – 237 words – reading time: 1 minute

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embracing solitude

The peaceful stillness fills the air, wrapping the surroundings in a serene embrace. It’s as if time itself has come to a standstill, allowing the beauty of the moment to unfold in all its splendor. Each breath is a gentle reminder of the tranquillity that pervades every inch of this ethereal space. The leaves, carried by the whispers of the wind, dance in a graceful rhythm, a silent symphony that resonates through the heart. The river flows with purpose, each ripple a testament to the unyielding force of nature, yet in this tranquil setting, it feels like a soothing lullaby, guiding the weary soul to a place of rest.

In this serene sanctuary, there is no need for company, no yearning for voices to fill the silence. The solitude is a source of pure bliss, an opportunity to revel in the quiet magnificence of the world. It is a moment of pure reprieve, where the weight of responsibility is lifted, and the spirit is free to wander unhurried through the beauty of the stillness.

As the world pauses for me, time becomes an afterthought, and the essence of life reveals itself in the simplest of forms. There are no roles to play, no deadlines to meet, just the gentle unfolding of moments, each one a precious gift to be cherished. The pace of life slows to a gentle rhythm, allowing every experience to be savoured, every sensation to be felt, until the new day dawns, bringing with it the promise of new beginnings and the continuation of the journey.

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fiction – 260 words – reading time: 1 minute

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onsra or eternal murmurs

The intertwining of our beings was but a fleeting and delicate fusion, a temporary coalescence that shimmered like stardust in the night sky. In the nocturnal emergence of our connection, there was a beauty born of darkness, a profound closeness veiled by the obsidian cloak of night. Yet, as the dawn broke, I found myself cradling the weight of sadness alone, the remnants of our bond lingering like bittersweet echoes, leaving residues of you on my skin.

This tender ache, this aftermath, seems to murmur of eternity, a whispered promise of always and forever, etched into the very fabric of our shared existence, even as we tread separate paths. So I carry the fragments of our entwined spirits with me, knowing that though our togetherness was transient, its essence is woven into my soul, an enduring witness to the depth of our connection.

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fiction – 145 words – reading time: 1 minute

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purge

As I closed the front door of my empty home, a wave of relief washed over me, as if I had finally escaped the chains of the day’s oppressive demands. All the pent-up tears burst forth, tracing a path of liberation down my cheeks. Stepping over the threshold seemed to trigger a deluge of emotion, purging the burdens I had carried for hours. The hush of the empty house enveloped me like a comforting embrace, offering solace amidst the storm of my feelings. As the tears flowed freely, I discovered a cathartic release, allowing myself to embrace the vulnerability I had concealed beneath a façade of strength. In the solitude of that moment, I welcomed the rawness of my emotions, acknowledging them as an essential part of my human experience. With the last tear shed, I sensed a gentle renewal, as if the act of letting go had cleansed me of strain and fatigue, leaving behind a glimmer of peace and the promise of a brighter day ahead.

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fiction – 168 words – reading time: 1 minute

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vanished hope

Engulfed in flames, the last straw has disappeared, leaving behind a trail of ashes and memories. What’s left of the hope we once cherished? It seems to have vanished into thin air, replaced by despair, shame, and regret. These feelings swirl within, intertwining, etched onto the blank pages of diaries with invisible ink and frayed pens. The desolation is palpable, leaving me abandoned, breathless, and feeling unworthy. The door remains ajar, but the windows are shut tight, barring any ray of light or comfort. In this darkness, no candles flicker, plunging me into a state of dreamless, fatigued existence. As yet another sleepless night passes, and my eyes open to the world, I am as though blind, unable to see beyond the oppressive weight of these emotions and experiences.

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fiction – 129 words – reading time: 1 minute

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in the darkness of my nightmares

The feeling of insecurity permeated my nights, and the tranquillity I longed for was elusive. The unyielding nightmares seemed to claw at the delicate fabric of my subconscious, leaving me restless and unsettled. The haunting terrors crept through every fibre of my being, casting a shadow over my dream world. Each time I closed my eyes, I was engulfed in a relentless cycle of fear and unease, unable to find solace in the realm of dreams.

In those harrowing moments, it felt like an eternity as every fibre of my being quivered with fear, yearning for solace that seemed agonizingly out of reach. The silence of the night was only shattered by the symphony of my own fears, echoing relentlessly in the recesses of my mind. Each beat of my heart seemed to resound like a thunderous drum, threatening to rupture through the confines of my chest. My gasps for air felt like desperate pleas for mercy, forming an unspoken prayer amidst the chaos. It was a fervent cry for respite, an unyielding desire to unravel the tangled web of emotions that held me captive.

As the panic consumed me, it was as if time stood still, and I was left grappling with the intangible spectre of unease. The longing for understanding and comfort surged within me, akin to a beacon amid the enveloping darkness, only to dissipate like wisps of smoke upon my tentative grasp. Each fleeting moment seemed to mock the transient nature of whatever sense of relief graced my consciousness, vanishing as swiftly as it materialized.

As the first light of morning gently spread across the sky, a symphony of colours danced on the horizon, as if celebrating the birth of a new day. Despite the serene scene unfolding before me, a lingering unease continued to grip me. My skin still bore the residue of cold sweat, and an inexplicable sense of apprehension clouded my thoughts. It was as though a shadow loomed behind my eyes, casting a pall over my every waking moment. I grappled with the disconcerting sensation of something waiting to inflict harm once more. The act of rationalizing and trying to contain my tumultuous thoughts felt foreign, unsettling. However, mercifully, the torment of nocturnal terrors had dissipated, leaving behind a fragile sense of relief.

Fragile. Strong. All at once. Vulnerable and not. Because for every moment a dream turned into a nightmare, there was also a moment when my forced and sometimes faked confidence helped me through the day.

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In the dance of light and shadow, life twirls in delicate balance,
A fragile petal in the wind, yet rooted deep like a mountain’s stance.
Through the tempest’s howl, a whisper of strength does weave,
For in every shattered dream, a new hope does believe.
So wear your courage like armour, forged in the fires of day,
For even the most vulnerable heart holds an unbreakable sway.

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fiction – 484 words – reading time: 3 minutes

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i remember

i remember it well, the first time that I saw you. You were walking toward me, not an ounce of insecurities were showing. I was a bundle of nerves watching you as you approached me. I immediately noticed that we couldn’t be any more different, you with your penguin scarf and me in my floor-length leather coat. As I stood there, trying to maintain a composed exterior, my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Your confident stride contrasted so starkly with my own jittery demeanor that I couldn’t help but feel intrigued by the enigma that was you. The way your green eyes sparkled with curiosity, and the contrast of our attire, seemed to encapsulate the very essence of our divergence in that moment. Though our outward appearance may have painted us as polar opposites, the magnetic pull between us was undeniable, drawing me in with a force I couldn’t resist.

The enduring nature of our commitment to each other has been a source of great joy and strength for us. Over the course of 24 years, we have overcome numerous challenges and have remained steadfast in our dedication to each other. It is truly remarkable to consider the journey we have shared, from the early days of our marriage to now, where we find ourselves happily situated with our beloved children. The passage of time has only served to deepen our bond, and we have defied any expectations by growing stronger as a couple. Amidst witnessing the ebb and flow of relationships around us, we have held fast to our love, building a life and a future together that fills us with immense pride and gratitude.

The journey of life is indeed filled with ups and downs, moments of joy and challenges. It is during these trials that our resilience and persistence come to the forefront, shaping our character and strengthening our resolve. Navigating through mood swings and inner demons can be a taxing experience, but as individuals, we possess the capability to overcome these obstacles with unwavering determination. Finding the ability to laugh amidst difficulties and to push through moments of friction is a testament to our inner strength and adaptability. Embracing these contrasting experiences ultimately leads to personal growth and a deeper understanding of ourselves.

The story of how we met is one of those rare, serendipitous moments that seem straight out of a romantic movie. It was the year 2000, and I was just a month away from turning 17 when we had our blind date. I can recall the details as if it were yesterday. It was a crisp Monday morning, and I stood at the bus stop with my hair still damp from the shower. As I gazed up at the sky, I was greeted by the breathtaking sight of a shooting star streaking across the heavens. To this day, I am convinced that it was the celestial spectacle that graced the early hours of January 17th.

In that moment, I made a wish – a wish so pure and profound that it almost felt like a prayer. I wished that I would meet the man who would one day become my husband that very night. And incredibly, against all odds, that wish came true. It’s a surreal and almost magical experience that has stayed with me all these years.

I’ll confess that before that fateful night, I held little faith in the institution of marriage. Growing up in an environment where positive examples of married life were scarce, I was skeptical about the concept of lifelong commitment. Even now, to some extent, I still grapple with the idea of monogamy. Perhaps it’s a lingering effect of my youth, an insatiable yearning for a love so potent that it can never be extinguished or fully satisfied.

But while I am still longing for a deeper connection, I also know when I look at you, or when I put my head in your lap at night that we were meant to be in each other’s lives. Where else could I be myself? Who else would or could love me like you do? Who else could and would put up with my recent moodswings? Who else would or could make me laugh like you do?

the answer is: no one. No one. Because you and me, that’s what makes us us. That’s what makes this bond unique and strong and unbreakable. Are we passionless? Maybe to the outside world we are. Then again, showing our connection, whispering between us, long eye contact, laughter and light ribbing, that’s who we are. We love each other. You see, our love transcends the boundaries of ordinary affection. It’s a deeply rooted connection that intertwines our souls and brings out the best in each other. The world may not understand the depth of our bond, but in each gesture and shared moment, the strength of our love shines through. It’s in the subtle glances, the shared jokes, and the unspoken understanding that we find the purest expression of our love. And in this unique language of love, we are fluent, speaking volumes without uttering a word. This is the essence of us, an extraordinary love that defies expectations and flourishes in the quiet moments, where our hearts beat as one. This is the true beauty of our connection, a love that resonates beyond the ordinary, creating a symphony of emotion that only you and I can compose together.

We are perfect in our imperfections. I love you.

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love letter to my husband – 916 words – reading time: 5 minutes

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Up on a hill

I once stood on a hill, enjoying the view. I inhaled the crisp and pristine air and exhaled my sorrows and troubles. The gentle breeze caressed my face as I gazed at the breath-taking landscape stretching out before me. The distant mountains stood like silent sentinels, and the sun cast a warm glow over the entire scene, painting the world in soft hues of pink and gold. In that moment, I felt a profound sense of peace and serenity wash over me, as if the essence of nature was consoling me and bringing solace to my troubled heart. It was a moment of tranquillity, a respite from the chaotic rhythm of everyday life, and I revelled in the simple beauty of the world around me.

In the blink of an eye, this moment was gone, and I had to descend into the gruesome black and grey of reality. Raging wars on every corner of the world, ugliness taking over. It’s as if our existence is adorned with the scars of conflict and despair, woven into our lives. The relentless turbulence of violence and hostility rips through the delicate balance of peace, leaving chaos and heartache in its wake. Yet, amidst the darkness, rays of hope and resilience pierce through, whispering tales of courage and the unyielding human spirit. Every act of kindness, every endeavour for understanding, and every glimmer of compassion becomes a beacon of light, pushing back against the engulfing shadows.

In those moments, we find the strength to continue, to push through the difficulties, and to believe that there are brighter days ahead. It’s okay to acknowledge the pain, to let it flow through us, and to emerge on the other side with newfound resilience. As we journey on, we carry with us the wisdom gained from our experiences, and we learn to embrace both the light and the shadows, for they shape our existence and make us who we are. In the warmth of the sun, amidst the ebb and flow of emotions, we find the courage to seek out love, to seek out understanding, and to carry on with unwavering determination.

Maybe we are all crazy for trying, crazy for persisting in these times where negativity seems to be all the rage back home. It would be easier to give in and let our flowers wilt in this scorching heat, but easy is not worth fighting for. We are not simply battling the outer forces, but also the internal struggles and doubts that threaten to diminish our resolve. It’s in these moments that we find strength in our vulnerability, and the courage to endure the challenges that come our way. Every small victory becomes a testament to our dedication, propelling us forward in the face of adversity. So let us embrace our ‘craziness’ and continue to strive, for it is in this tenacity that we find purpose and worth.

I admit, I am tired. Exhausted. Gasping for breath. But I want to get up on that hill I once knew. I want to enjoy that view once more, inhale the freedom to be myself. I want to raise my arms, stretch my fingers and touch the clouds. Because I am still here. And you are too. Whether we are walking through the valleys of life or standing on the hills, embrace it. Because just as silently as an eyelash drifts to the ground, as silently our lives can change.

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musings – 573 words – reading time: 3 minutes

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speed

The concept of a marathon versus a sprint is a fascinating one. The saying “it’s a marathon, not a sprint” suggests that success is more about steady, consistent progress rather than quick, immediate results. However, there is a lot skepticism about this notion within me, and I think it is quite valid. In many cases, achieving our goals does indeed feel like a sprint. We often find ourselves pushing hard, exerting every bit of energy and focus to reach a particular milestone in our personal or professional lives. The truth likely lies in a balance between the two: the marathon’s endurance and the sprint’s intensity. Recognizing when to pace ourselves for the long haul and when to give it our all in a short burst is the key to navigating the journey towards our aspirations.

The idea about this actually came after watching the Bon Jovi documentary. Listening to Bon Jovi uncool, and to be honest, I don’t know why. That band has been around for 4 decades and toured the world a couple of times. They worked their butts off. Okay okay, maybe I also feel particularly connected to them because my sister was a big fan when Keep the Faith came out in 1992. And that led to seeing my first concert in 1996 without adult supervision. (My second concert in total, the first was in 1993 or 1994, if I remember correctly, East 17 – yes, I was a huge fan and knew every song by heart without understanding the lyrics). Back to Bon Jovi. I remember that day vividly, we were 3 young girls (me at 13, my sister 16, and her best friend 15). We stood in the third row, the sun was shining on us and we didn’t dare to leave to have a drink or go to the loo. Today, I wonder how we were able to do this. An entire day in the scorching heat – it’s crazy and we were lucky nothing bad happened. But that’s age talking, and probably my mom-genes are rearing their head too. Looking back, it’s amazing how different our perspectives can be as we grow older. The resilience and adventurous spirit of youth, coupled with the exuberance of being at a memorable event, make for a potent combination, for sure.

In the documentary, there were parts of that tour too and it made me wonder: if that experience had been different, would I have become the same avid concert goer I was for a while? Corona put a halt to me going to live gigs. But for this autumn, I’ve already got ticket to see two bands and I am excited for that. Part of this excitement comes from the knowledge that this experience will be shared with former band mates. Am I even allowed to call them that? We are friends or acquaintances a lot longer than we were a band (or I was part of it). There is a bond, a love for music that helps us to stay in each other’s orbit. I like that a lot. And I am very appreciative of the short creative moments we had. They shaped me.

It’s quite intriguing to consider the profound influence of music on our lives, especially during specific periods. The emotive power of music can resonate deeply within us, often without us even realizing it. During times of introspection, the significance of melodies and lyrics can become notably pronounced, offering solace, inspiration, and a sense of connection.

Music has the remarkable ability to encapsulate the essence of our emotions and experiences, providing a soundtrack to our lives. It can uplift our spirits, evoke nostalgia, or even serve as a channel for catharsis. The resonance of certain songs and melodies can become intertwined with our memories, etching themselves into the fabric of our existence.

Moreover, the ever-evolving landscape of the world around us can influence our perception of music. In times of change or uncertainty, the allure of familiar tunes and the discovery of new musical experiences can offer a semblance of stability and excitement amid the flux.

As we navigate the ebb and flow of life, it’s natural to find ourselves drawn more deeply to the enchanting allure of music. Its capacity to articulate the intricacies of our emotions and captivate our senses is indeed a treasure to be cherished, especially during periods of contemplation and growth.

It comes and goes. It ebbs it flows. It’s a lifelong love, deeper, more resonating than anything or anyone. Love just like music that transcends time and space, resonates deeply within the hearts of us; those who had and have to experience it.

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musing – 775 words – reading time: 4 minutes (see, if you get me started about music, I will ramble on and on and on)

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I’m thinking of…

… ending things. No it’s less dramatic than it sounds. I am Thinking of Ending Things is a novel by Iain Reid I began reading a couple of years ago but never finished. The title stayed with me. Maybe I should give it a second chance. It’s just, and I am quite sure many people feel the same: at times, reading can feel like a serene escape while at other times, sifting through lengthy narratives feels daunting when compared to the instant gratification of bite-sized information on the internet. 

Anyway… I am thinking a lot about music right now and how it affects me and my moods. For me, music is amongst the most important things in my daily life and it is hard to explain. After all, I am not a musician. I can sing a bit, but that’s about it. I am just a fan, a listener, a supporter. When I was a child, music became a safe haven, a refuge. A constant in my life that was there and took me as I was. It listened to me as much as I did listen to it. There was and still is a song for every moment in life. And even though my parents weren’t fit to be my parents (I say “my parents” because my dad is a good dad to my half-sister, I think) , they gave me the gift of music. My mom was a music lover in her own right and my dad has been in bands since he was 15. His love for music – new and old, is a faithful companion. And often when we meet, when we run out of topics to talk about, we gravitate towards music. We are both comfortable with that. Recently I was told again that I have a vast knowledge about music and bands in general, but I think I am in a bubble. I only know things about the ones I am interested in and have also the handful of artists I really really don’t like.

Last week, a musician approached me to write a review about an album that does not have a release date yet. The album is awesome, I think. Impressive and captivating. I have been listening to it on repeat and still discover and hear new elements in every song. I haven’t tired of it, which is a good sign. But finding the right words and writing an objective, informative review that also incites the readers to go and listen to (and buy) the music – that’s very hard. And I don’t think I have the right skills for that at present. I am looking at music blogs like Jeff’s and his writing is off the charts and always spot on. Other music blogs do it too, but personally, I think Jeff’s writing about music is the best. It’s easily said that everyone’s a critic, but doing just that in an objective, fair, and educated way is not easy at all. All these words to say, I am still thinking about it, doing it – writing the review, but right now, the chances are rather slim.

Sometimes, I wonder if I had the same thoughts if my life had been different. You know what I mean?

It’s a thought that often crosses the mind, isn’t it? The idea that our experiences shape the way we see the world and the thoughts that occupy our minds. If our lives had taken different turns, would our thoughts and perspectives be entirely different as well? It’s intriguing to think about how our personal journeys influence the inner workings of our minds. Whether it’s the people we’ve met, the places we’ve been, or the challenges we’ve faced, they all contribute to shaping the our thoughts.

Every decision made and every path chosen has contributed to the unique set of thoughts that occupy our minds today. It’s a fascinating concept, contemplating the interconnected nature of our experiences and our thoughts. Don’t you think? Perhaps in an alternate reality where our lives unfolded differently, our thoughts would indeed be unrecognizable. But in this reality, shaped by our experiences, the endless “what ifs” linger in the corners of our minds sometimes rear their heads to stir our thoughts.

Ah, there… typically me… jumping from one topic to the next without an apparent connection. But in my mind, everything I wrote above is somehow linked. When I start to pen down my thoughts, it’s like taking a leisurely stroll through a labyrinth of ideas and emotions. The connection may not be apparent at first glance, but upon closer inspection, the threads that bind it all together slowly start to unravel. It’s a bit like uncovering hidden links and meanings.

It’s fascinating how our thoughts can drift to unexpected places on a sunlit Thursday morning, with the warmth of the sun caressing our backs. In the background, the turntables spin a record, creating an ambiance that seems to both define and defy the moment. Today, it’s Pearl Jam’s “Lightning Bolt” (2013).

As I bask in the sunlight, it’s tempting to let the world turn and allow my mind to remain a pristine, unmarked canvas. However, that’s not who I am. Instead, I embrace the musings and the melodies, finding inspiration in the thin almost imperceptible differences between the ordinary moment and the extraordinary soundtrack that accompanies it. Each line etched in my mind becomes a verse waiting to be written, a thought seeking expression on the pages that now lay before me. And you.

My moods are improving, the darkness I felt for weeks and the demons that were attached to my skin are finally disappearing. There is some fragility left in me and it is always there, we know that. There is also an underlying strength and a lot of integrity ingrained in me. But something slightly shifted this week and allowed more light and more hope back in. As I wrote a couple of days ago – let’s embrace the beauty simplicity so that maybe the overthinking mind gets a rest.

Enjoy this Thursday. Listen to music. Sit in the sun. Write. Read. Think. Do whatever feels best for you right now in this moment. And allow me to thank you. For reading all these thoughts that have a meaning but don’t matter. Or maybe they matter but or meaningless? Perhaps, they hold deeper meaning beneath their superficial appearance, or perhaps, their significance eludes us, shrouded in enigma.

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musings – 1074 words – reading time: 6 minutes (this stream of consciousness turned out much longer and weirder than initially intended. Then again, we all know that my posts are never planned… My mind seems to be a bit like trying to find a path in the fog but not having a map and forgetting if you are walking or driving or maybe even flying… I’ll stop here 🙂

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ethereal

I am flying, floating flailing, failing. I am falling out of the sky and into your waiting arms. I surrender to you and cease resisting what was written in our stars long before we were born. You and me, we are hiding behind walls that no one else can breach. We are on the inside, looking out. Hand in hand, we are walking the infinite corridors of life. Our minds are soaring like angels encircling the heavens, high and higher until we nearly ignite like glowing embers kissing the sun. And as we stand on the edge of forever, we are engulfed by the silent beauty of our connection. With every heartbeat, we breathe life into a love that has existed since the dawn of creation, a love that will endure long after the stars have burned out and the galaxies have faded into the void.

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Fiction – 146 words – reading time: 1 minute