Turn outs

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Among my most recent realizations is that I am sometimes intolerant.  What?  ME??? Ugggghhhh.  But yes, it is true.  Every time I become annoyed with someone because they're not quick or smart enough, I am being intolerant. I'm not at all judging another driver for the type of car they're driving, but rather how they're driving it, and how that might affect me or anyone else. 

I have heard myself many times touting the benefit of having grown up in the world's largest melting pot (NYC).  It's entirely difficult to not accept people as people, regardless of their tonal qualities, when you have to count on them to help you keep the beat and rhythm.  Running the streets and swaying in the subways of NY, you must maintain a quick pace and you need to count on the same efforts from your neighbors.  If one person slows down it becomes a log jam, with a backup that blocks all progress.  Everything always seems fine when people keep moving.  Go with the flow. 

Living in California now I have become a bit more mellow and I'm not sure if I wouldn't be the new grid's block in that maddening NY pace.  It feels as though I've gone from raging river to babbling brook over time.  And yet, I still have an urgent sense to rush and keep things moving.  Yesterday I had a beautiful drive home from Palm Springs down some steep hills, through blasted rock banks, and around dizzying, curvy roads.  Of course the routes only offered one lane in each direction and with all of the blind turns, not a whole lot of yellow dashes.

In no way do I begrudge anyone the right to drive at a safe and comfortable speed.  Sometimes even I slow down a bit.  What I find so frustrating, that always brings out the worst in me, (as well as bringing colorful words out of my mouth) is when Captain Cautious suddenly speeds up at the sight of my delicious dashes.  Is it really the greatest insult to have someone pass you?  What if, g-d forbid, you aren't -g-a-s-p- doing your very best?  Well then, you show them how it's done, and ram that pedal to the metal!  Ain't nobody passing me!  This went on for 30 miles.  There weren't a whole lot of breaks in the line-age but each time there was, like Old Faithful, that silver Toyota went off!

I'm not sure if his coffee finally kicked in, but after a while my silver fox caught up to a line of cars, with me right on his tail.  There was a camaraderie in the procession as my friend was proud of his new status.  Fine, I thought, at least we're moving smoothly now (see how tolerant I've become?).  We were until a big, black FORD pickup tried to hitch his wagon to my personal star.  This guy didn't seem to care that 6 inches was not a safe buffer.  Every once in a while he'd fall back, but then come zooming up again.  I was waiting for his arm to come out the window, swinging his lasso, ready to rope me from behind.

After having quite enough of his rude behavior I saw a sign for a TURN OUT which suggested that slower moving cars employ this act of grace.  Nope.  I wasn't even going slow- no way I was going out of my way to give him a turn in the lead.  Besides, he'd just wind up right behind another car, tormenting them in the same way.  He wasn't too happy that I didn't turn out, so he turned up the volume on his anger.  In a mercifully short while, there was another turn where I could get out of this ridiculous tiff so I took it.  As he blew by me, never slowing down a bit, I snapped, "Bastard!"

Carefully resuming my journey on the scenic, winding road, I quickly caught sight of my camaradavan.  After I accelerated, on a mission of revenge, I decided instead to sit back and enjoy my own ride.  Sometimes we have to take things just a little bit slowly.  There are times when throwing up our hands in defeat is the best solution- the one that brings us peace.  So I guess it is true that you can't control anything, all you can do is take those turns carefully, accelerate through the straightaways, and bend a little, if you need to.  There's no guarantee of how things might turn out, but there is the satisfaction of progressing down the road, and being on my way. 

If I learn to tolerate my own intolerance, do you suppose that makes me just a little more tolerable?

20/20

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For all the times that flowers bloomed
in each new life, in every womb
riding comets' shooting tails of blue
with each new breath I think of you

When earth does spin around and round
and ocean's waters skyward bound
when the rain comes, a pouring down
my heart will sing of rapture found

Your heart so true and like a glove
fitting my soul, my yearning, enough
like fire that's sent from heaven above
your touch is why I believe in love

In love so true- as the comet's light
the rain's new blossom, and then so bright
two souls again awake and enlivened
and dream no more in the darkest night

well spent

You know those days when you just feel good about how it all went. The work, the fun, the chores, your hair...

Never mind the hair- it did NOT look good today.

The air is so beautiful tonight with a pinch of cold chilling the deep blue sky. About an hour ago I was climbing up the canyon just letting my mind wander. You know those minutes where, while driving, you realize that you haven't been paying attention? Trying to remember where your thoughts went is futile- but I drill myself until I quit, laughing. Waking from one of those moments today I saw two of my favorite things- rocky, green hills and deep blue sky with scattered gray-white clouds.

Takes my breath away every single time.

This is my favorite day of the year. Tomorrow will be a good one, but today is the one where I am most filled with excitement and hope. It is the singular moment which pivots between satisfaction and anticipation. Celebrating a life that has been mostly well-lived, bearing fruits of love and goodness.  It has been a year filled with hard-won peace and harmony.  And I still get to look to what is yet to come... an ever-expanding, wonderful me whose facets are truly beginning to sparkle.

I'm looking out to the hills where the light slides in sideways in the evening. The magnificent peaks are dwarfed by the voluminous clouds, no longer white. My spirit is so very grateful for the beauty I see and feel in every thought, motion, dream and heartbeat. This day heralds the carving of a milestone, and the beginning of something of which I have not yet dreamt.  And I will celebrate it with a fabulously feminine frock, a  self-indulged gift (I acted very surprised when I opened the mail today!), cake (at least twice) and hopefully... if all goes well... some really good hair.

Happy Birthday to Me!

not4me

You hear me think and know my thoughts

And how I seem to be

Yet in the quest for peace at last

You do not think of me

You dance the corner, Wallflower

Slowly, moving time

But when I take the floor again

You skip this dance of mine

You listen as I sing out loud

Mouthing every word

And when the chorus comes around

Your voice is never heard

You talk to those who fill your flock

And tell them what should be

But when I try to share your thought

You do not talk to me

You wait silent in the farthest row

Though the lights have all gone out

No one’s left to see you bow

Alone, you scream and shout

I think of you, alone at night

I dream your dreams for free

It doesn’t cost a thing, this time

Oh, you should think of me

jaded

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Sometimes when the rain pours down
Making mud of my earthy treasures
Amidst the gray of weather’s cover
I wonder why the jade tree bleeds

Patiently waiting for warmth and wonder
But then comes sun’s relentless heat
Not quite parched nor withered just yet,
I hear the jade tree cry

Yes owl b here to clip your wonder
Stand strong with you in the harshest weather
Then bloom you will, in the warmth of sun
I know why the jade tree thrives

On this path we roam we must from the sun, sometimes lower our sight
For if we never shade our eyes, we will be blinded by the light

HE turned the water into wine

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Stepping in time with the notes promptly plucked

I dance to this rhythm as the music is played

The magic's sway, is like floating on a cloud

I ride this gem stream that pulls me far, far away

Through the park I run well past light’s turn to dark

Unaware of the frights that hide behind bushes

Laughing out loud seems my only defense

Til you hear, chase, and then push me down

Wash your face and hands, and then take a seat

Sit down a while, here- swallow this treat

You’ve been running so long, my wrong-way child

It’s time to slow down, to stop running so wild

Back on my feet I’m moving again

Don’t even know where I’m going this time

What I do know is that this road is the vein

That pumps and fuels this dance's time

Don't you know, momma, this dance is my choice,

A heart beat’s rhythm, an unrehearsed voice?

Why do you always try to change my mind?

Momma, you drink the water, and I’ll drink the wine

This dream spin of yours, surely will kill me

Listen to my truth, just swallow this pill

What the hell is wrong with you, my blackened child?

How dare you choose this call of evil?

You never saw the things I did

and never heard the songs I chimed

You just sat in the corner blaming me

for your numbing fear of dancing . . . of dying

Isn’t happiness the visceral choice,

The choir’s sweet, melodic voice?

My heart is my mind, Momma, as I dance in time

So you drink the water, and I’ll drink the wine

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Oh right ah

Sometimes I think that I know what love's all about

and when I see the light,

I know that I'll be alright. -PG

Sweet girl, your pain moves me...

And in time will come a strong, new desire

Which will bring with it, a change of reason

The grandfather clock never stops its turning

Always knowing its own chime and season

And pain becomes your deepest pleasure

When love frees you, to sing its new song

And the tears will no longer be the measure

When the light fades your shadow, so long

And why does hurt always find you there

In the shelter of your knowing heart

And why does sorrow take that dare

To cheat you, the game you played in the yard

Do you remember those days when we laughed and played

Do you remember countless dreams in the rain

Laying, hands behind head, catching drops on our face

Slipping, sliding and twirling- trusting our warm, secret place

And why when we love with all of our hearts

Why, when we give all that we can

Does it seem that sweet love parts-

From whose hand is dealt this wicked pain?

Do you remember those days when love was a given

Do you remember when heaven was not a question

We lived and breathed knowing what was ours

When joy, not sadness, colored the plucked pink flower

And in time will come the spring’s warmth and splendor

when love comes and sings the song we remember

We'll be chanting the lyrics that we know so well

'Cause our light burns brighter, now more than ever

And in the shelter of love’s warmth and splendor

we will abide another time

(as we always knew we would)

Safely, gratefully, gleefully counting

the ticking moments most sublime

But for now the clock ticks slowly, 

as we learn the song anew
In a moment with awakened yearning

in time, in time- we'll dance here too

A stitch in twine

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The greatest percentage of my weekend was spent listening to and watching birds. I stayed busy with some minor chores but interspersed them with dalliances with my chaise lounge and some warm sun. Oh how good that sun felt. There's never a chuckle too far behind when I hear myself complain about the cold weather. Really... it's southern California, this ain't cold. But it is cold enough to make the sun's warmth sublime. The birds also seemed to think so.

So busy hopping from tree to tree, diving, swooping, singing. I wondered if their thoughts were all "worms, worms, worms," or did they have daily checklists not unlike ours. Of course they never have to get new brakes installed, but then I don't fly around looking for string to build a nest either. We all have our lives to live. Some birds build hard twiggy nests which are prone to egg-rolling. The morning doves in Tucson were famous for this impractical practice. The horror of seeing those dead babies smashed on the ground all around my beautiful house, never got any easier. Then there's the intricacy of a hummingbird's nest. So soft and carefully woven into a form that offered its offspring security.

There is much to watch in this world, and with these new eyes of mine it's as if I've never seen some of these things before. A new ability to see beauty in a soul that formerly appeared nothing other than dark and rancid, gives me a new appreciation and a new hobby. Realizing that there is good beyond the bad has planted a yearning in me to know more than ever before about people and their emotions.

Rock Crest is a home that was owned by two fabulous people whom I had never met. My friend, Pat, cared for the elderly widow for years prior to his passing, prompting him to leave her his real estate. Pat shared hours worth of stories with us, of the greatness of these two lively, conscientious and loving people. There were many instances in her expressions where I tingled, feeling the wonder of Ben and Florence all around me, as well as their grief from losing their 9 year old daughter. The house was electrified with honorable spirits.

Florence was a sensible woman who had plenty to eat and wear, and an uninhibited spirit which allowed her to dance in grass skirts for servicemen. Although she wanted for nothing she was a careful person who saved envelopes from bills, to re-use later, and every day wrapped the string from her delivered newspaper into a bigger and bigger ball. Pat jumped up from her chair, ran to a corner cupboard and pulled out Florence's ball of string. I found myself wishing that Florence was in the room with me right then and there, so that I could ask her why she did this. But I didn't need to, I already knew the answer.

You know, every day we engage in a hustle and bustle as we make our way through this world. Some of us stop at nothing to make a "better life" for ourselves and/or those we love. Some of us thrive to make the world a better place. Some take the time to carefully build a future and some just forge ahead without ever thinking about where they're going or who they're side-swiping in their mad dash. Ben and Florence were two people who loved each other deeply, made a simple and beautiful life together, and who cared about the effects they had on our world.

When Pat inherited Rock Crest it was a bit run down so she put a bit of money and a lot of time and sweat into making it a showplace. It was not difficult to picture her on a ladder, scrubbing the wooden walls back to their original beauty, or digging into the steep hill behind the house with a shovel, to make a trail for her guests. That is Pat... a careful nest builder. What she built was a soft and secure home woven from bits of strings lovingly harvested over time, much like the hummingbird's. What I was most entertained by was not the success of Pat's hard work, but the awe that she had for Florence's great big ball of string. To Pat, Rock Crest would always be Ben and Florence's house. I think she was so honored to be the one to honor their love.

The beautiful wooden beams that adorned and supported the ceiling of Rock Crest were carved from the trees on the hillside behind the house, as were the wood panels that Pat so lovingly restored. It is this spirit of recycling and honoring that not only shows respect for our earth and each other, but that remembers all that have gone before and all that is good and right with this world.

There are so many kinds of nests that can be built. There are so many different kinds of people and heart sets that make up this force called life that we live. Yesterday I watched as a hawk flew away with something flagging from its beak and thought that behind us as we live and love, are our trails of string. I see my own children's children and the great-grandchildren of those I never thought to love and think that we need to worry about what trails we leave behind. Sure, it's not our problem right now, but my love is moving forward and I want my children's children to help build a better ball of string.

So my brother, you choose to build a ball of hate and prefer to incite fear in others. Sister of mine- you seem to wallow in despair and mistrust. Hey friend- I'm like a naked, featherless bird, crying out for you to bring me a worm. And in this world where our love moves forward, I can't help but wonder- why in the world wouldn't you?




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Love

Sweet little vacation week... friends, friends, kids, friends. So many pictures plastered all over facebook. So many happy families. So much love. Today I even saw gorillas hugging.

I look at these photographic souvenirs and think how wonderful it must be to have someone to love you. Someone to make a life with, and care for you. There are no remaining memories vivid enough for me to remember what it was like to love someone else. It's funny the way that hurt and disillusion smear their images across the whiteboard.

Everywhere I look, there it is. Fat people, skinny people, unattractive and rude people, people with screaming babies... I am a spectator to all of this love- everywhere. I would give anything to be in the game.

Sahasrara

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On a drifting love that comes dancing to me
A beautiful vision that my eyes cannot see
Swimming in the breeze between you and me
A wish dispersing stalks of colored ecstasy

Love’s colors mix a gradient blend
With no beginning, and no discernable end
Radiance warming that which could not fill me
When the soft wisps of wishes come to color me

Flying upon the highest vibration of all
I plunge, I lunge, with no thoughts of a fall
And land in the soft spun web of embrace
Hungrily staring into your princely face

Flashes of purple, yellow, green, red and blue
Orbit, weaving a violet crown for you
This dream, this vision, this wish for me
Color me, baby, come set my world free

Slide down your rainbow, into my cellar door and we'll be jolly friends forever more...

Sahasrara is the 7th, "crown," or purple chakra, characterizing a greater level of consciousness or knowing- that we are all one.

E-ster Sunday

Poochi began to whine as we neared our usual parking spot. I could hear his puppy paws prancing on the leather seat, behind me. I turned to look at him as we just kept driving and he gave me a seriously puzzled look.

I just needed something new. There is no more pain, my lungs are now healed and I feel better than I have in years, so I heeded the quiet call. I'm not sure how a gentle butterfly escapes its cocoon- it just does. There is probably some well-timed chemical breakdown, but I'll subscribe to the generic magic theory.

We climbed for a while. Coco is getting pretty tired, in general, and tried to turn us back quite a few times, but with a little coaxing, she reneged on her negativity and kept going. I wish I wasn't so worried about blazing these unknown trails alone, but usually I am. Something seemed different yesterday- the adventure seemed so easy- although it was steep I did not grow tired and although it was foreign I did not grow weak.

Even though I knew there were two more peaks to conquer, I was so excited when I realized how far I'd gotten. That etheric whisper suggested I turn and look. There were endless hills soaking in the richest depths of color, some smothering in face masks of ether- that took my breath away. The enormity and the endless expanse elevated me as I engulfed its beauty within my own being. I could not, did not and needed not, breathe.

My sweet old lab was tired so we began the descent. As with any core-trembling quake, the hours that followed were filled with flashbacks laced with ecstasy. Everything from Kate running through green grass with her pretty dress floating behind her as Deb's bonnet went flying into the wind, buying yellow Peeps for my dad (he didn't like the white or pink ones), hiding eggs in little Frankie's hood as he searched for them (pretty funny footage), to memories of being loved.

Kate came for her first official visit as a visitor and brought me some candy! We had a fun time prepping food and chatting but she got tired and went to take a little nap. I thought it would be a great time to head down to the lower deck to meditate while the sun warmed my face. Two minutes into it I knew there would be an earthquake. I didn't know there would be 300 of them in 24 hours, but the message was loud. Assuming I was just day dreaming I continued on with my meta moments. When I was done I just laid there in a state of complete serenity just soaking up the warmth. It got a little too hot so I moved over to the shady part of the deck. Then the trembling started. It didn't stop like it usually does- it just got stronger and louder. The old lady next door was yelling because she fell down. Her husband called to her to just stay down. I had trouble getting up the stairs to the house level and was relieved once I got there to see the kids heading out the front door. My best guess is that it lasted about two minutes. I didn't know they could last that long and that was certainly the strongest one I had ever experienced.

All day long the quakes just kept coming. There were a couple that woke me up throughout the night (I'll be needing a nap today) as my floor shook and the big glass doors rattled. There is an excitement within this life that keeps me naked, raw and alive in the absence of knowing what's coming next. I got a letter from a sweet friend yesterday morning, who reminded me that the journey is the prize. Given my recent observations that truth and knowledge are as impermanent as any given moment, in this minute I celebrate that relevance and its wonder.

So if the answer is so obvious as to stand alone, then there never really was a question, was there? Be still, and know that I am, is the answer.

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How do you ride a buffalo while walking?
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I'm listening

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This morning's walk was a long one. Slow in pace, I seemed to enjoy the labor of the long, deliberate lunges up the steep rocks. I felt a magnificent presence walking beside me and it was wonderful. At times it walked in silence as if it were respecting my somber solace. Then came whispers of encouragement which were like lyrical lullabyes to soothe my achy weariness. There was that drift that I seem to ride and it took me to another place. Today's destination was unfamiliar yet very comfortable. Remember the boy in the bubble? That's what I felt like- kinda gliding along, knowing that nothing would harm me.

I just kept walking before I realized that I did not know where I was. No matter. A quick rest, a babbling stream's refreshment and we turned around.

I've had more than one prompt of late, that has reminded me to be careful what I wish for. So I'm holding off on wanting. This isn't about me or what I want. I'm just here- humble, awake, aware, alive and...

ready

Fortune-ate cookie

Cheer up. There are many who miss your laughter.

That was my online fortune cookie shout out for today. I didn't ask the laughing buddha any questions because he usually just finds me silly and never really answers anything. Besides, how can someone else answer YOUR question? Now I'm laughing at myself.

This cocoon is beginning to bore me. I'm going to be needing some light really soon.

An unoriginal thought

Oh, the pain...

It's not that anything is particularly bothersome, it's that everything is a little too sedate. I was just standing in the shower as the (wasted) warm water poured over me, wondering what it would feel like to be in a cocoon. Not the emotional/spiritual, self-mandated check-outs I frequently engage in, but an actual, physical cocoon. My conclusion was that it would be like a cozy snooze in a shaded hammock on a warm day. ahhhh...

I've been noticing that life comes at us in waves. Waves of regret, waves of rapture, waves of cognizance and a whole bunch of hellos and goodbyes. If you watch the ocean as it rolls in to kiss the shore, you can see one sheet of water gliding atop another, and another, then another, as their fluid edges creep toward you. They're like escalator steps that elevate and carry you to a new dimension right where you are.

There is no greater apology, in my current state of understanding, than to feel remorse for your mistakes. In this state you actually feel the pain which you have inflicted on another. Only in this realization do you know what apology is. But it doesn't end there. Every time you rise up to something new (evolve or grow), you have a newer and deeper understanding of pain- or better yet, joy- even (or especially) when it's someone else's.

People wonder why they have to keep dealing with things that they have already conquered. The truth is that as we grow we have new eyes and new thoughts that are better equipped to learn more with. This is a blessing, not a curse. Those waves just keep coming at us, each one riding its predecessor to a greater level. Don't look away.

Sometimes this learning overwhelms me. It's not that I can't handle it. I can handle anything. I can also choose not to. You see, for me the thing is that I'm done with all of the self-deprivation that formerly defined me. It was all I ever knew. The greatest gift that I can give myself right now is to take a time out, enjoy the warmth of this cocoon and be ready to spring forward when I'm ready. This isn't a cop out, it's a time of growth and wonder while I process what surrounds me, and readying myself for what I will be riding next.

Even though I don't feel the brightness of sunlight right this minute, I am enlivened by the distant, muffled sound of a beautiful song that I had long forgotten. It makes me yawn, stretch my arms, and remember that morning is lurking. Sometimes we can appreciate the sound of a friend opening the creaky old window, letting the warmth of spring in as the light warms our cocoon.

thank you

Say*no masochism

Nothing like a good salt scrub to detoxify the complex-ion. :'[

(Nothing like a good wrench (ugghhh) in your tool belt. Wrecking balls are tools, yes? Heavy little lesson from yesterday... still digesting... still learning. Evolution is quite the process, huh?)

A natural force

Rustling leaves

Whispering wind

Something is coming

It’s changing again

Falling leaves

Wind’s song dreams

Something is changing

It’s coming to me

Dancing leaves

Rushing wind sees

Wrecking ball is

Charging straight for me

Whipping wind

Shearing me

Flying debris

Cutting and searing me

Sand blasted

Remnants of

Fear and jealousy

Can not stunt or stagger me

Whirling wind

Tries twirling me

But safe in the eye

I watch as the storm blows by

It tinkles the cowbell

And dries heaven’s tears

just listen... Hear the bell ring!

When the wind comes, it changes everything

My stomach's growling

(What is this obsession with wishing? Wish I had an answer)

Wondering whether or not, wishing it were so.

Wondering where you are, wishing I was too.

Can’t help but think that if you only knew, then maybe I would know it too.

If we could be more fortunate then we would be love's beacon.

If love walked through my door, then I could stop this always wanting more.

If you could be the happy one, then you would be so full of love.

I wonder if passion will ever rule, because I’m ready to be done playing the fool.

I wonder if we’ll ever be what was meant for you and me.

I wonder if you’ll ever see- the me in you, and the you in me.

If I could just stop thinking about what I want to be,

maybe there would be some peace, serenity's home in me

.

If I had just one wish, I’d wish to wish no more.

Make a wish

One person's weed is another person's wildflower.

It seems that when I'm not feeling particularly strong or happy, whether it's worry or loneliness that is getting to me, I start wishing. Don't get me wrong, I'm always wishing for something but at these times it starts to consume me.

"What do you wish for?" is the voice's question that I hear over and over in my head. More frequently than not, I refuse an answer. Being afraid to want something is quite possibly one of my ugliest faults. It's not that I don't deserve my wants or recognize my wishes- I've just become a little too gun shy with tender wounds, to dare to want more. So, what is it that I wish for?

At this very minute I am wishing that I was well. Well enough to go out and play some pool or dance. Well enough to hit the trails in the morning. Well enough to sing and laugh out loud. But this will pass soon enough.

Yesterday in my restricted boredom I pulled my flute out of the closet. I had not touched my lips to its mouthpiece in close to two years. As I pivoted the cover open I saw that familiar tarnished silver lying naked in the crushed blue velvet, and breathed a heavy sigh. It took me back to memories of my first flute. The one that was so pathetically inadequate that I used to have to soak it in water in order to get the pads to swell up enough to encase a fingering. Playing that way was a challenge that I did my best to hide from my middle school peers and my teacher as I struggled to be good enough to keep up with the others.

Then there was the day when Mr. Piteo, my rock star band teacher put music in front of us that none of us had ever played before. I remember not much more than the feeling of magic inside of me. I just kept playing as he hushed everyone around me and pointed to the white girl with the tarnished old wind stick and told them all to listen. It wasn't until the very end that I started to get flushed and self conscious. Silence reigned for another measure of time once I'd finished before they all started hooting and hollering. I know that some of my notes were as broken as my pads, but it was the magic coming through me that they all heard.

Yesterday when I fussed with my flute and allowed myself to be pleased with what I HADN'T forgotten, I wished that I could play like I used to. What I did notice was that I was so much better, even after all of this time, at picking up music I had not rehearsed. And there was harmony and accompaniment which I had not previously been able to attain. I was grateful.

Tonight I sit here wishing that I was loved by another beautiful soul. There is an absolute sense of guilt in this wish as the truth is that I am loved. And I have been loved. It's just that right now I am not loved in the way that I wish to be, by whom I wish to be. This presence doesn't have a face, although there is the dream of one that haunts me. I know better than to push my luck there as what I want doesn't always mirror what anyone else wants, or ultimately, what is best for me. But, I am human, I have desires and I can't help but find certain people attractive. For all of my life I have given love the best way that I know how and I have felt let down again and again. I guess I'm just wishing for a soul with depth who sees what I see, to think that I'm sexy, and want me. But in the meantime I am very grateful for the glimpses of love that I have had.

I wish that a bolt of lightning would strike me and tell me what it is that I'm supposed to do with my life. Now that I'm almost grown up, having had to re-invent my whole new self, it's time to decide. What I always thought I'd be, well, I'm just not that anymore. I feel something calling me, but I can't tell which direction the voice is coming from. I sit in quiet mediation, waiting for the epiphany, but the only message that I ever get is to be patient. WTF?

So while I wait I find myself wishing for love- for myself and everyone around me. For a more compassionate world. For an end to hunger, disease, loneliness, and malice. I wish for a better me... and a beautiful you to find me.

pearl

And someday I'll be the lucky one,
the one who smokes and inhales the sun
We’ll dance to tunes both old and new,
we’ll have a laugh, a token two
Then settle down around the fire,
to share memories and new desires
We’ll plot the course of earth’s new spin,
we’ll talk and laugh at how we sinned
Someday we will meet this girl,
the one who lives, the oyster’s pearl

And we will breathe her beauty

a thought

Loving the divinity within ourselves enables us to love another’s. You are so BEAUTIFUL, and that is why I love you. Accept it, embrace it, and revel in it because I need YOU to love ME! “A world without love is a very scary place.”

Walking in your footsteps

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I would drive for hours just for the pleasure of standing somewhere beautiful for just one moment. In that moment the sun will warm my face as the wind plays with my hair and swooshes my flowing skirt about me, making me more beautiful.
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I would walk for days through sand, mud or rain to be somewhere with moist green grass that cools my feet. In that grass I would run and slide and giggle uproariously. And in that laughter I will feel the wealth of my soul.
.
I would cry forever if with every tear I could celebrate the thoughts that have made, broken, and then made me again. And when I breathe between the sobs I will realize again and again, the miracle of ME.
.
I would cry some more if all of my tears filled an ocean. A force that rushes and sweeps and washes over you. This power can only be controlled by my own submission to its wonder. In these moments where I lose myself I will be filled with the most beautiful light, laughter and love.
.

dangling my feet from the edge of my seat, i wonder why people choose fear and hatred over compassion and bliss

what's the point in that

Knock knock

.

Can you open the door?

It’s raining out here

Didn’t know it would rain

Didn’t wear my rain gear

Can you listen a minute?

It’s noisy in here

Didn’t know of the party

Didn’t know they’d be here

Can you give me a ride?

My feet are so tired

Didn’t think I’d wear out

Always seemed I was wired

Can we sit for a minute?

Can I put my head down?

Didn’t think I could lose

Didn’t know I could drown

Can we climb that sweet mountain?

Can we just keep on going?

Don’t you think that it’s pretty?

That distant horizon?

Can you open the door?

Can you just let me in?

Didn’t think you’d forget this

Don’t you know who I am?

Tonight I found an old folder. Sadness really does suck. But then one day sadness reigns in an adjacent throne. Gotta just hold onto the tenderness. Those wounds that rip your heart open are the very footings that bring you joy as you fill them with subsequent wonders. It's just love and it's just a heart and it's just pain. The tenderest meat is the most delectable once you finally sit down to the feast.

And oh, I am weary and tired tonight.
...be with me
...I know you'll be with me
.

Whateva!

If, at some time in my life I loved you, I still do. If there was an opportunity for me to care, I'm still grateful that I could. Whatever you're wondering, the answer is yes. It's always yes. If it was real or beautiful or meaningful- it always will be. You can't ever change that. Why would you want to?

And just because I still love you, it doesn't mean that I want you, or that someone else should be threatened by this emotion. Au contraire! I think that one of the things that I've learned to be the most grateful for, is that my love doesn't die. There was never a darker time for me, than when I thought that I had forsaken love. I blamed myself for way too much and wasted so much precious time thinking that I had failed. Yeah, love morphs when heated by the fires of reality, practicality and individuality, but it was, is and always will be... MY LOVE.

François-Marie Arouet (Voltaire) told us that we can not want that which we do not know. You have taught me so much. My heart and mind have been opened by both the joy and the pain that loving and losing you have afforded me. Some of these "things" are consuming concepts and some are simply refining edges which allow me more comprehensive definitions.

Thank you for helping me to learn to deal with disappointment, abandonment, anger, devastation and jealousy. Because of you I can now be disappointed and hurt and still wish the best for another, even when it doesn't include me. Thank you.

And don't think for a minute that just because you're not thinking about me, that I'm not remembering you. My heart never forgets. Never. I send you light, daily.

And for you who I dream about yet have not yet met, I love you and send you light every time I love, live and breathe. I honor your presence daily and look forward to seeing your face... any time now.

Whateva...

Burning down the house

I don’t understand why people fight.

I don’t understand why someone would think that their needs are important enough to take someone else’s breath.

I don’t understand why people fear enough to hate.

I don’t understand why people fear love.

I don’t understand why people choose to ignore each other.

I don’t understand anger.

I don’t understand abandonment.

I don’t understand misunderstandings.

I don’t understand submission to weakness, anger, fear or hate.

There are some things that I just don’t want to understand.

On the go

Every time I turn around something looks or feels or sounds or tastes different. Knowing conjures a new meaning as it seems that what I "know" is simply my current understanding or perception at that particular time, as it relates to that particular thing. A malleable edge just waiting to be stretched… just a little more.

Really...

Serenity's drift jolted by that twitch to which I frequently offer resistance. Last night, instead, I vaulted from the shock and there it was- the illusive portal which I seek often but rarely find. An incredible journey of dancing light and beauty.

Returning to this less desirable state, my souvenir is the knowledge that the beauty of a moment is only real within that moment. And if I choose to look back and ponder the radiance within that light- I will be grateful for the beauty that was, for it will always be a part of me.

turn me oh-ver

Writing my wrongs in this black box of shame

Singing some hims to erase all the blame

Kneeling before you, I’s lowered in shame

As pen-nance releases my runaway game

Whisper my seek-ret through theses cuts in the steal

Where you hear me, and hold me and tell me to feel

So I squirm and erupt as I rise to my heal

Shed shame’s ugly skin, for flesh's a-peel

Pen-nance: The act of writing your wrong

Dangerous Dreams

Waking to that dream in my head

The one I’ve dreamt again and again

just a hazy mist that clouds my bed

And returns my icy blood to red

And again

I dream

Again I dream of you

Your show of magic captures my stare

Trapping me tight in your blinding black box

I strain to see this tricky dream, but if I

Watch your hands I won't hear what you mean

Because again I dream of you

The night’s long journey makes me toss and turn

The race is on as the pace is quickened

While the nearing dawn sparks the fiercest burn

Don't make me rise to another empty waking…

alone

again I dream

Sweet dream's lullaby wrestles this new day’s glow

As dawn's lusty lips hum a yearning below

Don't wake me yet, it's much too soon

To begin the wait for another moon

I need just one more dream of you

It's only a heart

Stand alone in the night
as
the fog sets in
The dark can't see
what
is haunting me
Abandon(ed) old heart
beats
steadily bold
in the face of
pain
Hey, it's only love-

It'll come 'round again

The Welcoming Tree

You should be with me

I sit alone again tonight
Face lit with blue computer light
My heart is heavy with lots of whys
I will not let these stinging eyes
Cry again
I sit and think of you tonight
Not what is wrong, but what is right
This desire for you a tease and taunt
My want for you a lusty haunt
That wrecks me

Say my name

You know, sometimes

Even when I smile - I'm drowning inside

In a pool of tears

All welled up hidden deep inside

He said I was pretty

And we talked for a while

He didn’t know my name

But he sure knew my smile

(Sometimes, although

You hear me laugh - I'm dying inside)

He told me about

His wounded old heart

His bent, broken love

was his shiny new art

Sometimes although

you touch me inside - I sit here so lonely

In a heap of fear

All huddled up - and cold inside

He talked of his love

And he held it so close

I tried to see what he had

But he held it too close

He looked in my eyes and

He touched my soft face

So I held his sweet hand

And tried to tell him my name

sometimes when

You watch while I dance -

I

can't

even

breathe

Shhh...

The eloquence of silence speaks only to those who cannot hear

The beauty of life’s living is known only by those who do not fear

The bliss of your love felt only when you come, naked, here


It's hanging in my aura like the sounds of the seagulls did, on Monday. That squeal that reminds me that I am where I most love to be... in beauty and in love... in me.

When I arrived at the North end, there wasn't much beach to sprawl out on as the water was especially frisky. A few brave wave jockeys were out in the peaks that looked like they were at least triple the height of their own fleshy statures. What was left of the battered ridge above the sand was ripe with anticipation as the wet suits and bucket-toting tots waited to begin.

I knew there was a risk in plunging down onto the beach, as one of those waves could rush up at any time and whisk me away. I guess I barely thought about it before tossing my goods down into the sand. I needed to be in that beauty and it wouldn't have mattered if it took my life.

The sweetest surrender comes only when naked and fearless, you submit to your longing.

I nestled my chair into an alcove of rocks which served as an amphitheater of echo when the waves crashed and roared. It was a symphony of magnificence which stole my thoughts and breath. It was in this abandoned state of cognizance that I realized the eloquence of silence. An infusion of unparalleled beauty set ablaze, the currents of energy which grounded me.

I don't know if minutes or hours had passed, but since the waters had receded and the sun was beginning to singe me, I peeled off my sweatshirt and headed down the beach. Any other day might have found me caring that my melon-tinted bra was obviously exceeding the limits of my skimpy white tank top. If I hadn't already been wishing to be naked at that time, I might have cared.

It never takes more than a few minutes for me to find my way into the water. Just a little bit... cool my feet...
A huge wave snuck up behind me, and soaked me to my waist. It almost sounded like playful laughter as the rocks tumbled upon themselves in the retreating of my prankster.

Looking down to see how soaked I was (as if this was actually a question), I laughed. It was a good thing I changed my underwear when I decided to wear the thin, white pants because... the saturation of color which the ocean afforded my garb, showcased some vibrant, multi-colored polka dots beneath my now see-through pants. These definitely matched my upper wear more than their predecessor, the leopard spots, would have.

Yeah, walking down the beach in the warmth of sun, blissful and harmonious, right down to my underwear. Not a care or a fear, in the eloquence of this silence.

There is hooting outside my window tonight. I love it when you sing to me.

Something blue

It was to be a messy-hair, no make-up day once my "valentine" company bailed on me.

I drove around for a while, bought some deliciously sweet pineapple (which made an excellent dinner), stared at a tree (in my defense- it has the most beautiful patterning in spots where it had clearly lost some limbs), meditated (sweet escape), looked at pictures and thought a lot about where I really wished I was spending the day.

This morning I asked Her for some strict and structured guidance. I know this is a cop-out but this haze I've been nesting in is getting old. My longings are making me weary, and my creative channel is filled with static. None of my usual clutch-popping tricks have been working, other than to barely get me moving. I wish I could have seen her, beyond what my imagination conjured, with her arms crossed, tapping her foot, and shaking her head at me. Other peoples' imaginary friends are quite a lot of fun. Mine just likes to kick my ass. She was just not going to do my homework for me.

Last night someone whom I greatly admire told me that he's been crabby. It was pretty funny because his crabby is most people's better days from what I can tell. I thought about him a lot today (for many reasons), and it helped me to look at myself a little differently.

Being the Laura that I am, one of my greatest priorities in this life is to give and to enrich the happiness of those that I love or anyone who asks it of me. Unfortunately I sometimes drive myself nuts in the process as I worry just a little too much about other people. The truth is, really, that they can take care of themselves! So I had bought a couple of Valentine's gifts for some unsuspecting people. Last night I did not give it as the situation simply didn't lend itself to my expectation. They were chocolate covered fortune cookies. And then, for my sweet friend who would not be able to spend the day with me today, I purchased blue heart-shaped Murano glass earrings.

So as I sit here licking the chocolate off of my fingers I'm realizing that this stagnation which was getting old, is singing something new. There's nothing wrong with being a little bit less sometimes- even when it's me I'm letting slide. Nothing is going to crumble, and there is nothing to borrow to make up for it. She was right again- imagine that.

Something blew in

And then out once again

Never pausing to see

Where it stood for a moment

It rushed and drifted

As it whirled round my heart

Never knowing its place

In the memory of time spent

… breathe it in deeply

Rada Mambo

.
Rada Mambo (Queen of Swords): The essence of air behaving as water, such as a refreshing mist: A person gifted with both keen logic and natural intuition, giving them uncanny powers of perception and insight. One who easily sees past deception and confusion to the heart of a matter, and understands both sides of any argument. The embodiment of calm, forthrightness, and wit, in the face of even the most trying circumstances.

I asked, "What makes life so wonderful?"
Hey, THANKS!

Hey now

.
Hey friend, come to me
In the green grass of spring
Together we’ll be as
We laugh, cry and sing

Hey, bring me your wonder,
Your dreams, frowns and blunders
Come sit down beside me
As our souls frolick asunder

Hey you, draw near me
Come rise within my gaze
And when the feast is done
Share the sweet, soothing laze

Hey love, can you feel it
Can you see, touch and hear it?
As we watch with curiosity
Do you long to be in it?

Hey, as I wander this path
I see that you know it well
But do you know what I feel
Does your soul yearn to tell?
.

.
Save your sermons for someone that's afraid to love...

It is not finding love that I'm afraid of. It's losing it... again.

sore'n kickin'hard, uggghhh

.
lost in time and lost in this space
running scared from this enticing place
moving away as if in a race
to save my soul, my heart, my face

from losing once again


(excerpt)

To dare is to lose one's footing momentarily. To not dare is to lose oneself. ~Soren Kierkegaard

The prodigal sun

Lost and wandering
stumbling across the days
blinking my eyes, mouthing my words
nothing to feel along the way

Two weeks of "ick." Where have I gone? Why did I go?

This morning I trekked across the muddy, quenched earth, praying for some comfort. I have not been able to generate my own, so I asked the universe for a little help. Relying on the most basic of meditation practices, I wiped my mind of any thought of my own, that even peeked its little head into my consciousness. After a few hard-fought minutes, the canvas was clear.

There were an infinite number of mini-streams, broken branches, puddles and mud slides to admire. This most familiar path was a whole new adventure. The dogs chased a few scampering creatures to their safe havens beneath bushes and behind rocks. They always look so puzzled when their hunt mysteriously ends. Noticing several impressive tunnels probably dug by gophers, panic struck me. I couldn't help but wonder if these tunnels flooded in the heavy rains. Wanting to think otherwise, logic chastised my optimism as I submitted to the horror of probable reality. What if there were babies in there? What if weeks or months of hard earned harvests were washed away?

Empathy for the gophers' plights unfortunately re-kindled my own sadness for a moment. Why? Why, why, why, why, why, why, why?

A little further down my walk was what used to be a clearing. Today it was carpeted with nature's litter. Do you think gophers spend much time grieving the loss of their nest or nourishment? They probably just get right back to work, building a new life because that is what needs to be done. I looked up and smothering the peaks of the Cuyamacas were deep, billowing clouds. The prodigal sun whose unprecedented strength illuminated both their depths and their reach, shouted to me that today, I walk a new earth.

the encore

.

Oh let me be the one

Who fills and moves your sails

The one who thrills your senses

Love that never pales

Let me be the coupling

That conducts your flowing current

The pulse that beats and quickens

The one your yearning dream meant

My heart knew yours

So long ago

It might have been a dream

But then I saw your

Face once more

Among the living realm

Why don't you want to be the one

The one who’d die to move me

The one who craves this radiant vibe

To soothe your soul completely

Oh won’t you be the kiss of g~d

Your lips upon my lips

My sweetest song, like heaven's touch

Strummed from your fingertips

Your heart knew mine

Before, I know

In a different place and time

When I saw your face in

this familiar place

I hoped you’d soon be mine

.

When we come into the present, we begin to feel the life around us again,
but we also encounter whatever we have been avoiding. We must have the courage to face whatever is present- our pain, our desires, our grief, our loss, our secret hopes, our love- everything that moves us most deeply. -J Kornfield

Where'd you get that song?

energy