strung together and hung over this heart like a bandolier
shedding dropping lessening lightening
forward motion with an audible clatter
each time one more thing falls
unbound to go its way
the ill-fitting and the precarious
the misaligned and misunderstood
there's a river trailing behind
of clocks telling the wrong time
warm sweaters in the wrong size
boxes and their lids
locks and their keys
dreams like signposts
like blossoms and ink unfurling in water
and the mother in her crossroads aspect
the little bits that make up each day
funneling into line again
the minutes between
i am grateful for each and every one
the pattern and the form
the reassurance
the revelation
the click
and the
love
thoughts on fluid consciousness
how water holds no mistakes
and no shape
save the containers
we put it in
simply sitting in this moment
which is (perfect like) any other
in its potential
remembering how not to confuse
the symbol for the thing
the messenger for the message
the tree for the place it merely holds in the forest
and i think my compersion's
right where i hoped i'd find it
remembering that it's all the same
that we are always walking in it on it through it
no matter what configuration it takes
at any given point
how we acknowledge and perpetuate
what's simply always there
what we run on like so much electricity
what we grow on like plants in the light
and the means by which we do
seem almost irrelevant at times
to the fact
and the beauty
that we simply
do
follow
your
bliss.
there
is
only
now.
*
my best friend was killed three years ago yesterday.
if you didn't know me when this happened, i'll tell you that she was murdered and found in her bed by her three-year-old, and that a large part of my life changed that day in ways that are hard to explain. if you've been there, with someone that close, perhaps you understand some of what i mean.
i miss her, and always will, but don't feel that she's ever distant.
this is the biggest point of disconnection we are handed in this life, the one place our loved ones go where we can't quite follow -- and the one place we'll all go and leave people behind ourselves some day. it's perhaps the hardest thing we ever have to deal with.
on the occasion of the sun rising the next morning, three years ago today after what felt like the longest night of my life, i'd like to reiterate that loss is yet another form of change. on the day the light broke again, as it did before and did afterward, i'd like to offer up the conviction and the reminder that we are never, never sitting all that far from each other in the end. in honor of the happiness she brought to my life in the eight years she was a part of it, and the lessons i've learned in the negative space since, i'd like to posit that our perceptions of strife and seperation are far more flimsy constructs than we are often led to believe.
i'd like to say for the record, right now, that nearly everything you say to me and everything i say to you is going to be misunderstood to some extent, by our very nature of language. i know that when i look at you it's not entirely you that i'm seeing but my idea of you... and when you look at me you see the same. i know there's no pure experience, and that everything we do and say and think and feel is informed by a million and one things that have come before. i know that we often react not to events but to the buttons they push with us. i know that i do this just as much as anyone. and these are all things that just are.
but
they don't matter. not when i can put my hand in yours and there are no need for words. not when infants grow more healthy the more they are touched and held. not when you and i lay down at night to go to the same places, and not when nearly all of us have loved and lost. not when you live half a world away, and i may never meet you, but we both stand in wonder and awe of the things we can't explain.
not when your problems and mine are set before the ocean, or at the foot of a four-thousand-year-old tree, or on a geological scale where all of human existence is just a blink.
it does not matter.
but until the day when i can simply put my head against yours and you will just know, no matter who you are and who i am, there are only these words to approximate with.
*
you are loved
i want for nothing
and we are never alone.
*
six candles three stars and an out-of-focus photograph
let's be good to ourselves.
forward motion with an audible clatter
each time one more thing falls
unbound to go its way
the ill-fitting and the precarious
the misaligned and misunderstood
there's a river trailing behind
of clocks telling the wrong time
warm sweaters in the wrong size
boxes and their lids
locks and their keys
dreams like signposts
like blossoms and ink unfurling in water
and the mother in her crossroads aspect
the little bits that make up each day
funneling into line again
the minutes between
i am grateful for each and every one
the pattern and the form
the reassurance
the revelation
the click
and the
love
thoughts on fluid consciousness
how water holds no mistakes
and no shape
save the containers
we put it in
simply sitting in this moment
which is (perfect like) any other
in its potential
remembering how not to confuse
the symbol for the thing
the messenger for the message
the tree for the place it merely holds in the forest
and i think my compersion's
right where i hoped i'd find it
remembering that it's all the same
that we are always walking in it on it through it
no matter what configuration it takes
at any given point
how we acknowledge and perpetuate
what's simply always there
what we run on like so much electricity
what we grow on like plants in the light
and the means by which we do
seem almost irrelevant at times
to the fact
and the beauty
that we simply
do
follow
your
bliss.
there
is
only
now.
*
my best friend was killed three years ago yesterday.
if you didn't know me when this happened, i'll tell you that she was murdered and found in her bed by her three-year-old, and that a large part of my life changed that day in ways that are hard to explain. if you've been there, with someone that close, perhaps you understand some of what i mean.
i miss her, and always will, but don't feel that she's ever distant.
this is the biggest point of disconnection we are handed in this life, the one place our loved ones go where we can't quite follow -- and the one place we'll all go and leave people behind ourselves some day. it's perhaps the hardest thing we ever have to deal with.
on the occasion of the sun rising the next morning, three years ago today after what felt like the longest night of my life, i'd like to reiterate that loss is yet another form of change. on the day the light broke again, as it did before and did afterward, i'd like to offer up the conviction and the reminder that we are never, never sitting all that far from each other in the end. in honor of the happiness she brought to my life in the eight years she was a part of it, and the lessons i've learned in the negative space since, i'd like to posit that our perceptions of strife and seperation are far more flimsy constructs than we are often led to believe.
i'd like to say for the record, right now, that nearly everything you say to me and everything i say to you is going to be misunderstood to some extent, by our very nature of language. i know that when i look at you it's not entirely you that i'm seeing but my idea of you... and when you look at me you see the same. i know there's no pure experience, and that everything we do and say and think and feel is informed by a million and one things that have come before. i know that we often react not to events but to the buttons they push with us. i know that i do this just as much as anyone. and these are all things that just are.
but
they don't matter. not when i can put my hand in yours and there are no need for words. not when infants grow more healthy the more they are touched and held. not when you and i lay down at night to go to the same places, and not when nearly all of us have loved and lost. not when you live half a world away, and i may never meet you, but we both stand in wonder and awe of the things we can't explain.
not when your problems and mine are set before the ocean, or at the foot of a four-thousand-year-old tree, or on a geological scale where all of human existence is just a blink.
it does not matter.
but until the day when i can simply put my head against yours and you will just know, no matter who you are and who i am, there are only these words to approximate with.
*
you are loved
i want for nothing
and we are never alone.
*
six candles three stars and an out-of-focus photograph
let's be good to ourselves.