Reaching out beyond the dream of what you thought was real, spinning on this ball of life, head now under heel. Ready to die, to live this life so raw, alive on ledge- dancing, hurling, freeing your soul to finally stretch the edge.

Sunday, May 31, 2009

Muddy paws

Looking at the clay tile of the balcony’s deeper than usual tone shining with puddled moisture, I wondered if it was rain or mist. The mountains were hidden. It didn’t matter. As long as it wasn’t too cold, the dampness of my sweats would feel good. I chose the tie-dyed orange hat with the big brown PEACE sign, even though it didn’t match my already ragamuffin getup.


It was earlier than usual but I sit here so excited to start this day. Something new and exciting; and it seems that I am no longer anxious at the prospect of the unknown. Bring it on!


The birds were clustered in multitudes in the welcoming tree. Did they gather there every morning? Chat over some warm, refreshing worms the way we all gather over some coffee and muffins? Is their universe parallel, or is it one with ours? Many of them scattered as I approached, but most just circled and returned to their perch. There was no music today- I decided to go it alone. But there WAS music. The sound was so rich, enhanced by the thickness of the air, like the cream in my coffee. The melody periodically paused, followed immediately by the drum of the distant woodpecker’s search for sustenance.


In the foothill of this magnificence I looked up to see the rising slopes of the beautiful hills, whose tips were now covered like a loosely clad lover, aroused, yet bashful under her sheet. I am awakened.

A quenching, muddening sensation- it was MIST.


Sunday, May 17, 2009

the wISard of odds

is not shelter
from the storm,
but rather
amid the storm

To be fulfilled in all that you have,

all that you have not,

all that you give and

all that is given to you.

To be content in your best and your worst.

To expect nothing and yet be grateful for your wanting.

To know the depths of both joy and pain.

To be grateful for each death and resurrection.

To be weightless in the beauty of IS.

...just click your heels and you'll be home...


Wednesday, May 13, 2009

One foot in front of the other

It's May 13th, the day after May 12th... just another Wednesday. On this particular Wednesday my man child is twenty years old. He is handsome, strong, kind, funny, insightful, and warm. He has passion, drive and hope. Today there will be delicious cake to celebrate his life. I will quietly celebrate the victories in spite of the difficulties, the triumphs achieved in the face of challenges, and the life that still beats boldly in spite of the deaths we have escaped. As he wishes on his candles I will be wishing for him that he builds a life to be proud of. One filled with pride, tempered success, and love that will not fail him.

As scary as it might be to take another step into a day filled with unfamiliar challenges and pain, a step I take alone, I am comforted knowing that all of the precarious steps I've taken before have led me here. Here where I watch a beautiful man blow out his candles. This all could have ended very differently had I chosen not to keep going, or not to keep giving or trying when things were so dark and difficult. But here we are, ready to eat some more cake. And here I am, once again, extending my foot, always moving forward.

Happy Birthday Frank!


Tuesday, May 12, 2009

It's May 12th

The birds' enthusiastic song grows louder
Another beautiful day
A deep breath, your calming voice
Guess I'm on my way

Thank you for the love you give me
Your strength- is always here within me
This day will be just like no other
With you, my soul will surely hover

Be with me...
I know you'll be with me


Monday, May 11, 2009

Step 1


Thanks for the wishes. I've started to write to you several times, but it never feels right if I don't have much to say- to you. You're not the "average" guy.

Just a little while ago I found myself wishing that my life was a little more routine and boring than it is. "Live in the moment" is the wisdom that I'm supposed to employ at all times- one of my hardest lessons yet. I can certainly enjoy beauty in spite of bad situations, I can appreciate goodness in spite of evil, and I relish pleasure even in the face of pain. What I can't seem to do is surrender my fear. Not when I really need to.

How many difficulties does a person need to sustain before KNOWING that it is not the outcome that matters? It is the income, the realization of gain- whether it's heart, knowledge, wisdom, or understanding... that we take from it, that sums up our total. But this philosophy doesn't seem to make things easier when you're weathering a storm. Then again, who said anything should ever be easy?

If I look forward to the end of the tunnel, I'll miss the light right now- the pink hues that are settling over the mountains, or the glow that will rise inside tomorrow morning's fog, when the sun awakens.

I hope your night is filled with beauty and peace,

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Balance beam

Not affecting a particularly quick pace, I seemed to be focusing on the hazy whitish-yellow that was glowing everywhere. Something from the left tapped on my consciousness and I turned to see little wisps of colorful patches, stepping their way up the hillside. That must have been where the Indians lived- up on that safe mesa above the river. What majesty their daily breath must have absorbed. I frequently find myself wishing that I could live as they had- with all of the simple contentment, thankful only for the beauty they beheld, the food which fed them, their love and respect for each other, and reverence for the infinite wonders of the universe.

Not 60 seconds later my puppies started tugging so I turned around to see the most magnificent horse ridden by an Indian. He was the sleekest black with a few smoky white patches, and a deep, dark chocolate mane that shimmered and shivered with each step he took. The soul which accompanied him also had long, shimmering, raven-colored hair. The feathers which were anchored to his temple danced with wild abandon beneath his well-worn hat. The horse ignored my awe-stifled pups and looked straight into my eyes. His mate bowed sideways to me, before he snapped the reins and they took off running. I watched the dust billow as their silhouette grew smaller, before being swallowed by the golden white mist.

It must have been the adrenaline from that magnificent moment, because I suddenly found myself quickening down the path. I passed the rocks where I often stop to let the dogs sniff while I collected my thoughts. We were almost at the balance beams where J and I like to play, when suddenly and without thought, I turned around and drank it all in. There was the tree whose smooth, cool rock bank I frequented, but the whole landscape surrounding it was at a slope which I had not previously realized. Getting dizzy just thinking about it, I wondered how a spaz like me could walk through that without falling each and every time. But there, in the middle of the crooked sanctuary, stood my tree- tall and straight as if it had grown measured against a level. We all know that levels are tools made by man, whose mandates a mighty tree would never heed. No, it drinks from the earth and reaches for the sun, alone.