Broken Tiles

You’ve got my head spinning so fast that it makes me dizzy. So dizzy that I fall to the ground my hands landing in the rips of the carpet that squares the tile floor. The glass and sheetrock staggered all around sifting and grinding under my fingernails. The blood rushing to my head and falling like droplets, but its not blood; it’s tears. The salt taste rest on my lips as they quiver from the scared that shakes my frame so.

But- I love all of you though, still I am left wondering how I can make a clean break, how can I run as far away to the corner of the world that floats beneath me. Yes I am flying, flying free, breaking free. Yet, I am still chained… to another predestined atmosphere. Will I ever escape this circle? This pattern? This every day life? Will I really break the cycle and go to where I was created? Or will I suffer indefinitely?

For once I thought that giving my all to someone would be easy but I have found that I want most of those parts of myself back. I don’t know who’s going to kiss you when I am gone. I don’t know who will be there to pick your chassis back up and put you back to pieces. We used to be the glue to each others broken pieces, but that glue has turned to opposite ends of the magnet. Pulling our pieces back apart, everything we have built, starting all over again. Every brick I lay as foundation… it gets torn down with words, actions, and ridicule. I feel so defeated. I lay my entire mentally beaten body down and fall back into the clouds. The clouds of denial. The soft clouds that bring stillness to my bag of bones.

I feel desolated, dejected. I feel broken more now that I have ever felt in my life. It’s hard getting that out of my mouth. Because trust me I have been through a lot. It sounds so dirty. I feel dirty, and used and broken and beaten. Yes I know I’ve already said this and I sound like a record skipping just when it gets to my favorite part. but, every time things are going great something bad always happens.

So I cuddle up with my pillow between my legs and one behind my head and one to hold onto throughout the night as I fall asleep and hope that I wake up tomorrow. Or do I? Hinds sight isn’t always so bright.

The second attempt

Tasha Geller-Hollingshead ©copyright 2016

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The Evangelist

 

If you break down the word evangelist you will find the word ANGEL in the middle. I see an evangelist as a person with angelic vibes and annointing who is the middle person between God and us. By us I mean Humans. Bringing us closer to God. But, What is an evangelist you may ask? To answer, I will give the specific definition; which is “a person who seeks to convert others to the Christian faith, especially by public preaching.” I ask you all, have you ever met anyone who is so divine and spiritual in their teachings that you can only see in them in an evangelistic way? You are naturally drawn to question them, seek them out, and gravitate towards them. We have all at some point in our lives asked if there is a higher power. It’s only in our nature to question that from the time we are small, until sometimes the time we are laid down to rest and pass away with peace in our hearts. Does it take an entire lifetime to make that connection? It doesn’t have to be. You have to be open to others beliefs and teachings, as you would want them to be open to yours, correct? I have had the opportunity to meet an evangelist in my lifetime, and write a story about my experience with this person. I conducted an interview today and asked a series of questions. To my amazement I was revealed a whole different level of understanding and actually understanding of the word. The best way I can describe my experience is to tell it in a short story. For giving me the opportunity to write this interview my way, I would like to dedicate this blog to Mark Shell of Mark Shell Ministries.

The Evangelist
It’s eerily chilly today, but warm. The air is moist, the skies are dark, and the color has shifted to more of a late fall instead of an early winter. But if you step the wrong way you might bite the cold that chills your bones. I sat in the back today, anxiously awaiting our moment to talk in private. I remember the first time I saw you. I wasn’t sure I could believe my eyes. For since I was 5 years old I could always see colors that burst around people between here and the heavens. Call it learning body language at an early age, or a gift after a terrible fall. I was always Deaf you see growing up, and had a very difficult time understanding people and their intentions. You had an intention that day. The halo around your head had somehow swallowed you whole. For it was radiating beams of colors throughout your entire body. There were too many colors to count, it was somewhat the colors of a rainbow surrounding us, all around. It was astounding and so beautiful. Ironic coming from me, who raises a flag of rainbow colors in protest that I am a different kind of woman and not only because I am gay but because I am a strong Christian. I believe I have a different path that God assigned me, no matter my sexuality, although I am sure it will play a big part. Where that goes, I have no idea. I just take it a day at a time.
For me to see those colors around you, I felt safe. I always wondered when I was going to meet you. The man or woman with the body halo of a thousand colors. I knew the day would come because I have heard many others talk about seeing people with this energy inside of them that they can radiate many colors. I call it the holy ghost, holy spirit. Call it what you may. Call it emaculate, and glorious. Warm and kind. Loving and fanatical. Call it divine. I listened to you preach to us with conviction then and today. You bounced around the well set lighting, and echoed across the earth-tone walls that enclosed us tightly, almost touching each other. I hung on every word you said. It was like laying on a beach, a breeze of fresh air, watching the sunset with nature all around you; the trees hanging limbs above hammock that you lay in. Like the tree limbs hung, I think everyone hung on your words that day. I think we all took it home with us too. I wanted justification that no one else could convince me of, and you summed it all up with just a few sentences. You speak a language that everyone understands and that cannot be said for many others. Prompting the fact, that you have your own gift to share with the world. There were, that I could count, generations that went back to people who were raised over 60 years in a belief you shattered and put back together nicely, correctly, and gloriously. Just like you have done over hundreds of times before. You knew from the moment you were 17 years old that you would walk a hard road. Not hard for you, as you embraced your talent and gift and ran into the world of hands that reached out to grab onto you. You always know your audience. Not because of experience, but because you can feel us and our hunger for knowledge and love that you can only share.
You ran into that wall, breaking it as well. Slapping proper expressions, and intruding the storm, you sail through your sermons with ease and truths. No man is left behind though, as you make certain that everyone understands no one is better or holier than thou.
Your two boys and wife see you everyday, moments that should not be taken for granted. For they are lucky to have you in their lives, teaching them daily the goodness there is out there. Your legacy will pass down to your children and they shall soon follow for they have the same motivation that lies within you. For you made them and it shall be.
You are sitting there maybe in your brown chair, at your brown desk reading this story thinking why did I tell her brown? I hope this makes you smile, as you have given me rebirth to the idea that smiling may actually be a good thing. Spreading love, hugs, cheerfulness, and happiness is the only way to live this life we have been given. For God “gave” his son, we shall “give” all of ourselves to him and others as he “gave” in thought toward others as well. (Mark Shell)
Mr. Evangelist, you are a beautiful soul and like your smile, I am sure God smiled as big when creating you. I am so blessed to have run across someone like you, as I foreseen I would be wise in my years with strands of silver before I would have been given the chance. Maybe that is a good thing, maybe its got a purpose. For now, I will settle on the mere fact that I got to learn from you. Learn what you may ask? I learned how to receive the word as it was intended in my own type of language.

Tasha Geller-Hollingshead © copyright 2016

 

http://www.markshellministries.com

The Therapist

Staring across the room and looking out of the window, I see a man run across the road. He was wearing a black hat that caught my attention. If I look in the right angle I can see as he zips up his black matching coat and run in the black squared shoes he is wearing. The weather, so cold today, and it’s so high up, this building. The sky is sitting even levelled with me today as I embark on another journey with “the therapist”. I wonder if God has a hand in the vision I see in front of me today. Leaping out to grab me and change the proper expression on my face, I am guided to another room. Sometimes I can hear that girl, I can hear her crying in the back ground, around the corner, or is it through the thin four white walls and a not so cushiony carpet that surrounds us again. Less than classy artwork on the walls if I may say so myself, we all are trapped and locked in here. Where is the key? You may ask, why I chose to talk about him today? Out of all the days that come and go in our lives, I choose this particular moment to talk about what most would assume is a less than relevant person in my life right now. Leaving them only to end up being wrong.

Starting with his pointy nose, squinty eyes, and the way he crosses his legs, I would have to say he is the most important person to me that I have to hold dear to my heart. At least, until it’s time for me to give it away to those that are around me 24/7. For now though, my heart is broken and shattered into a tiny little pieces. If I were to sit and try to count all of them, it would be in the millions and the days would drag on while tears fall down my face endlessly. For I am a broken person. I wish I could say that all of my childhood days were happy and I had a happy life. I have never really had a happy life, now that I think back. All of my decisions, those in care of me and their decisions that caused me trauma and pain. The paths I have gone down, had led no where but to sadness. I have many sides to me, some depressing, some mysterious, some happy. I have so much to learn, but will I even give him a chance to help me? What is this thing people call happiness? Is that term really subjective?

(giggle) When you’re talking he will say ok, ok, ok, rather quickly after I speak to cut me off momentarily when I get carried away. He will wait for me to say something rather than asking a question to probe further he will then just say ok. Then a different question, then ok. Then another question, then ok again. Well- followed with a sigh, is the code word and look though, if you pay closely attention you will see and hear it throughout the session. Like a clock that never fails to tick and tock. It is when I know it’s no longer a valid conversation to have, it ends. I know that if I wanted to I could talk about things that could help me, I could get the help I need with him. I am stubborn as a bull my grandmother used to say to me. I see where she was coming from now, even though her opinions could be bought for a dollar a minute, and came true, still, I should have listened to her more. I wish she was here to hear all my complaints and tell me to be grateful for even being alive.

Throughout this long ticking time in session, I reach over to grab his hand, jolting him and startling him. I tell him my deepest dark secrets one at a time. He grins from ear to ear and eerily enough I liked that look. I liked the thrill and excitement that came over his entire face. For I wonder what all goes on inside HIS mind, this trained, well-educated therapist. The one who sits with his chin in his hand and two fingers that point toward his jet black hair. That means the gears are turning, he is thinking very deeply. Years of experience talking to people over and over about the same stuff, I realize why not go ahead and just get it out, something different this time? Why hide who I am anymore, this other side of me? Something that he can actually help me with and I’m not ashamed or embarrassed to know that I have a side that does actually exist in others. The mere fact that I could raise his body out of his chair and cause him to walk around the room tirelessly, showed me that he’s thinking about it. Finally, why did I feel so used, in the end? Was it worth it, opening up this time? Do I still have to question myself and my thoughts on a daily basis? You betcha, but that therapist, that one time. That one day. He understood me and I understood him if only for that ONE minute.

Always, The patient

Tasha Geller-Hollingshead © copyright 2016