Another Miracle

Prayers of gratitude and welcoming

This wedding that is coming

Coyote singing again tonight

Gratitude’s tears, invoking peace.

The tenderness of life

Unfolding.

Gratitude

Gratitude

So big these fleeting moments
Building a drop at a time, like a flood
So large it washes everything away

Leaving only these damp cheeks
And a fullness to the heart

Every moment has led to this:
Love, Friendship, Deep
Appreciation.

Reading “Generation Loss”

Reading “Generation Loss”

Very rare book, someone who has a similar interior dialogue at moments

a weirdly uncomfortable mirror of life, perspective and past. . . .

by Elizabeth Hand

Dance

It seems so unfamiliar,
Releasing my repose
Getting to my feet
And finding some
Awkward rhythm
Long forgotten
Coming back
Again

Requiems

Love found us brought us together

the catalyst creating the mix

We are not alone in separate journeys

This path is holy

We are not alone others; walkand shadows become merged.

Raise the grail up in joy

Sleep safe and wake in peace, Canim

From near and afar,

Many whisper prayers.

On the breeze

Being the Call

I love you in that
I have found love for myself
I know we are connected
it hurts to be apart.

I tell myself, be gentle,
With the feelings that arise
separate and together
The same I realize

anger along with pain
calms, or is enflamed.
love the catlayxt
reacting to our presence in the mix

I learn to be gentle, in tears of desire
I reach for what is joined now
in such sweet manner
as we abide in such, we are not alone
on this vast earth, we’ve many a journey to share.

So we go on into each evening
Knowing that love is there
This path has become quite holy
I know it is my own, yet others walk
and our shadows become one and merge.

Sleep well and wake with joy,
Let the love you are be free.
There is room beside me

in this heart you have rendered dear

this heart so open canim, it remains,

here for you.

New Itinerary

Something different is calling me, out to the beach,
past woodland to the sea I walk amidst those less seen,
gently by chance, through the shadow and light
I come latlely to an appointment offered long ago,
seeking What I turned from, through mischance and pain.

I come harkening to the whisper & cry
away from that deadly voice, I have grown tired.
I’v become nervous here, to life so fresh, an I a little bit shy
Like a mid semester transfer student, scared yet desperate to apply

all I have lived has brought me to this bridge
To cross a divide so wide yet subtlly felt.
I walk leading where I cannot see.

There is a shift here,imense and yet unseen
Fire, water, elemental beings, and those that ask for me.
I return the call & wait for what will be.

Silence V2

I walk amidst the babble, here on lonely streets
Listening to something that’s whispering within
This mighty synaesthesia dogging my every step
With anger /love around me, I’m numb at times to that.

I left on many journeys, knowing none the way,
These routes seem yet familiar, these pathways lined like veins
kneeling beside this empty bed at night;

shame & horror plain to see

Tainted passions, full of grasping, addiction ashamed to live,
your beauty subtly masked now, your anger becomes my pain
I’v delighted in my passions, leaving you despair,
You claimed me first, the horror plain to see

I ran screaming then in fear, running from what is
roundabout toward some healing, and now i
Meet you here. Calm in this empty home
Your present with this pain,

My witched bones have become a strange attractor
Betwixt these two worlds weird
Running will cost my life: suicide id now my bane,
No addiction or alternative, I’m sundered to this fate.

Like a god you are demanding Yet humble in this place,
Twain to have a body, To hold you in my arms,
yet you animate my flesh In ways I adore & abhor
There is nothing for it, I must call you to the door.

Your body subtle air, has thawed trauma’s frozen child
Not separate any longer, I join you in this dance
your presence life itself All I know of love is here.

Sarturday Afternoon

Saturday afternoon


Smoked a little tobacco. I really haven’t smoked much the past few days; I think I might quit today. I had a little of the last cigar I bought-nothing good or important, I realized the will “always be another” and that is the whole problem.

I seem to want to be clean; I certainly don’t want to go through the whole drama of being an active addict and living with constant negative consequences in my life. I may choose to drink a bit with friends on rare occasions, but I see that on a regular basis, I am unable to want to moderate my use, especially alone . I get into trouble so fast, deep patterns come up, and then rationalize the hell out of it.

Really been cleaning the house a lot. Started Thursday with Lia and then Laundry and now with Mark coming over its vacuumed and the kitchen floor is clean. It looks and feels much better! I do love this place and I have been gifted with a project the perfect size for me, of course I had a lot of help with the work and the motivation to get it done.
I might never have finished it without Yelda, or it certainly would not look and feel the
Way it does without her being here and leaving and all the other history of this place is what it is, and it still feels so clean and lovely. I don’t know how that is.


Of course doing all the laundry and buying new sheets and comforters helps, as does the new art and the constant thoughts to finish, detail, clean and cook. The cooking is so big. it so important for me to prepare my own food, especially with the challenge of cooking only for myself, cooking is best when many are eating and helping prepare, the food has so much flavor and energy!

Speaking of energy I am learning to feel the actual differences (frequencies) that then create thoughts and belies which come through my body: I experience the touch of the wanting or the touch of rejection.

Of course I know the sensation of loneliness. It’s higher, in the throat, how it closes up from the back first and then the bottom, no breathing, so sound, only the loneliness there, with you.

The touch of wanting is in the heart, and is sweet in its bitter pain

Rejection moves it down to the gut, where there is shock and surprise that the other could have done this without my permission, and I gave it, and that really hurts.

Then the tears of acceptance, again in the throat, but in the top and the sinuses, as the tears fall and the mouth grimaces in grief, no choice, no choice, only this. Only this.

It is such a miracle that the feelings move and shift, like the winds and the currents. Sometimes stable or recurring patterns, sometimes better, sometimes more challenging.

To have a little perspective is so new, to be able to glimpse the show not as my life, but as a play of the energy of the world, showing up in this body, at this time, with whatever form love takes as it moves through my body, breath by breath.

Writing toward silence

Writing toward silence

I walk amidst the babble
adding to the din
Listening for something
That already speaking here, within

This almighty noise you see
Dogging my wild step
With anger /love around me
I’m numb at times to that.

I go amidst this journey
Knowing none the way,
These routes seem yet familiar
These pathways lined like veins

I’m come kneeling to the bedside
seeking silence deafnly found,
You see silent struck
Admist the Wideme

Dreaming this empty bed at night,
I’m working hard alone
Dreams of shame & horrer,
My thieving plain to see.

Tainted passions full of grasping
Addictions my step of shame
Your beauty subtely masked now,
Your anger I can see.

I’v delighted in my
waking passions,
leaving you despair,
You’ve been calling
many years now
I become tired of the price;

I’v been crying for love lost now
many many years, yet this one claimed me first,
Before I was here a-spied
Long ago we met and sighed
For the coming horror plain to be

I ran screaming then in fear,
Till some strange healing hae preformed
for know i do stand silet, ready to meet you here.

at times i find myself becalmed
alone in this empty home
I feel your presence near me, as i
bear thispain in side.

You returned herer in love, To meet the fear
pain seared in these bones now old
Whitched become a strange attractor
Now your calling from a side
I a feared I'd never know,

I'm so so scared to ride this line alone at times
Betwixt and between the worlds weird with you,
I paid pain in my ignoring you
Suicide my strange exit door addiction my oldest ride
failed my every attempt to beat without you by my side.

Like a god you are demanding
Yet humble in this place,
Twain to have a body,
To hold you in my arms,
you animate this flesh,

your body subtle air,
No more i can sit frozen
this silence last no longer,
I'll join you in this dance,
your presence life itself
all I know of love is there

Neither “Good” nor “Bad”

Now this may be a truly sophomoric load of shit on moral relativism or a pseudo Advita sermon on no me, or a bit of both. I guess I can just hope to leave the roots on my bizarre preppy-hippy-punk-post punk-whatever I am now, older I guess.

There are a few ways to address judgment, because with out the judge, it’s kind of difficult to have the goood or the bad. I can (and do ) on occasionhave such a strong esperience that it seems inhearent with beaury or horror, yet that is different, because from within my heart or memory, those experiences are seared indelible, not with concepts, but in a matrix of kinesthetic emotive memory that has no “vaule” it simply is.

I tend not to remember the “good & bad” times at all, my mind simply edits them out of consiouseness so they can go to work beneath the surface of my life, direct to my soul.
It is all quite confusing because at some level, I just exist between a emotive thought based I and a larger awareness (however nacent) that holds some perspective on the aforementioned show.

Life has become a bit like a theatre presentation, that leaves the stage for audience performance at times, and then, after a suitable peroiod of confusion, returns to some semblance of cohesion and context until the next seaway to the wilds attempt to break through and express itself in my life.

I don’t know if my lack of engagement is a sliver of truth or a facile defense against reality, in order to defend a belief I would have to stand on what is always shifting ground. At times I do feel grief and loss and regret, as well as joy, exuberance and energy. It would be dishonest to deny a preference. Yet shadowy and powerful this drama continues to unfold within my life, and I know that it is with my permission.

So I surrender my judgment, as I feel it’s cost, and try to return to apprehending the moment and myself as it is. Clearly an experience, or life itself unfolding, possibly reflecting a template or destiny that I both fear and adore, for it leaves us all
with only the posibilty of seeing the house and stage, or being blinded by the footlights.

Morning Ride

About three days a week i go on an early
ride, about 5AM, my addrenaline go's off
I tell myself it’s the traffic
yet it’s also the end of a cream cycle
after a few years of watching,
even I can detect a pattern

so there is this panic that arrives, to say good morning !
When I was younger, I would just leap out of bed and
start my day, no caring or understanding that I was
likely to be very reactive and violent with anyone
I crossed paths with, because I was running from myself
I knew that i was very productive, a real morning person

Now ther is an opertunity to meet this anxity, this fear
panic cross fading into loss and pain of being alone and
talk with it. It useally starts with Ohh god, why this?
awnsered by a buddah laugh or Creole Chuckkle,
anything to break the building habit of dramma
Even my iipod and some help from my friends
and these lovely “spiritual” dialogues, reminding me,
that we are all addicted, most of all to our thoughts.

So often I can lull myself back to sleep to awake
perhaps tired, yet gratefull for a few hours more sleep.
another dream cycle perhaps, or two, but mostly the
chance that I don’t have to start and finish my day
in fear and reactivity, that I can be gratefull
even for this.

Coyote is here

Coyote is calling, bringing news of the wild
as I sit smoking a bit high on wine and this day
reading of enlightenment, I feel smug and so sure
that I have attained some truth, Coyote come laughing
reminding me I know nothing but my own delusion

Yet I am so happy to have this guest at my gate
so blessed to welcome this visitor of the night
this day has brought me gifts unimagined from the
morning despar to the evenings bliss. The message is
beyond my understanding, yet I am gratefull to fathom
even its presence.

My challlanges are such great gifts, to listen and
pay attention to all that comes, to all that leaves
and to the wonder that surrounds us all
It is calling, let’s answer as we can
and take joy in the unknown
Laughing with all that cries

True Wealth

My life: A storehouse of love,
I must open the door to breathe
I have been struggling in the dark to long
Only rarely on chance getting out.

Yet I do venture out and return home enriched
Somehow my paths cross the God's friends
who bring more than I could ever imagined
unseen and unsoughtthey continue to grow
giving my life energy, wisdom and strength.

Their being is beautiful, I am fortunate to husband this life.
your love is more precious than gold or sensual pleasure
And let us be honest, you have brought me abundance of both.
like sunlight, two facest simultaneously direct and soothing
bringing light and warming my heart with company

A letter to the wild heart

Be calm with yourself my friend
Let patience guide your hand
Let not passion rule the moment
For it will pass like the storm
and leave behind both wreakage
and wonders unseen before.

If there be passion, let it be gentle
an expression of love and wounds within
Let not our own pain continue the hurt
we have all suffered, forbearance will
yield sweet fruit, even delay may bear
a miracle unimangined

What seems unbearable is when we reseist
Yet in yielding we can grow in compassion
humility and willingness. It only takes a
fragment of hindsight to see, how much
is squandered and lost through anger
and the reflection of hurt in our past.

So let me end returning to love
for that is all we are in the end
Let your friends love render you
defenceless. no matter how rare
or imperfect, it is there always
in the silent pause as we breathe.

The poles of sanity

Is there such a thing, as more or less sane?
It would seem so to the passing world
There are those we smile towards,
And those we move away from
Often not concerned with anything
But appearance and civility
Monstrous actions hide well
Behind a smile & clement façade.

Yet I write toward the inner landscape
With it’s own polarities and direction
Are there fair lands, or only desert made
To bloom wondrous after a rain ending
Drought of many lifetimes?
Are the thoughts and feelings we traverse
familiar ground made strange by the dawn or
Twilight of the day and time?

What is it to have an inner companion
On this journey, as alone we traverse this terrain
Our own souls passage amidst the
Two fold lands, awesome and awful
Grown familiar, and dear
Like our heart; stalwart companion.