i was surprised to find out that i can laugh by myself & it'll still taste sweet. sometimes i feel like the hollow ones i make when i'm in a crowded room are all i have & they always leave an empty grim on my tongue. but i just discovered that desert sun and finally freed skin make for joy that's light & laughter that cures.
my broken body made me slow & led to a journey halted, which seemed just right due to where i've gotten lost just now. it made me remember that it's not always about reaching an end, but maybe about discovering the going. maybe i didn't see the magic arch, but my toes found sand & heart felt warm & i forgot about all those endless "where i should be's."
i think the wind & the stone & the cactus spines made me remember there usually are more pressing things than the future. i got lost in the desert & the desert got lost in me & now i can breath clean air again. enough with that future drowning, now i'm just loving each step as i get there.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Thursday, October 18, 2012
castles & spoons.
sometimes there's something crawling in my veins that makes me start to dig. it's almost like its telling me to slump so i can look up and find where i should be going & forget where i stand. then my present/future suddenly become a dichotomy & neither are good enough.
now i'm thinking on what paulo says, we need to see the castle walls while never spilling an oil drop; otherwise we're neither present nor foreseeing.
i think durangan summer made me focus on my oil spoon & i never looked up. my months here ticked by, each day building new walls, & once my eyeballs finally reached up, my brain started to sag. i hadn't noticed that my castle came to brooms & rags & plastic smiles, not salvaging words that tie its speaker to earth, ritual, and dirt.
once i saw my castle walls were not what they must be, i slopped oil down my front and made a mess of my present. i tore down all that i'd created and made it something ugly. i forgot that even though i'd seen the walls, i can't drop the precious oil from my spoon.
instead i need to see my current castle being one that i'm renting for a time, til i can build one of indigenous words. i must still be grateful for its shelter. my current castle is laden with desert & mountain breathing, & full being my own being.
i need this part-time castle so i can have one full time that won't crumble. without a foundation of life, what would my word castle be built on? my oil spoon may be empty of my deep set passion, but at least it's full of beauty.
so now i will refill my spoon & have eyes opened, hopefully no longer ones drooping. my present is building what will make my word castle a home of sure joy, rather than empty dictionary piles that weigh my soul.
one step at a time, grasshopper, lest you drop your spoon.
now i'm thinking on what paulo says, we need to see the castle walls while never spilling an oil drop; otherwise we're neither present nor foreseeing.
i think durangan summer made me focus on my oil spoon & i never looked up. my months here ticked by, each day building new walls, & once my eyeballs finally reached up, my brain started to sag. i hadn't noticed that my castle came to brooms & rags & plastic smiles, not salvaging words that tie its speaker to earth, ritual, and dirt.
once i saw my castle walls were not what they must be, i slopped oil down my front and made a mess of my present. i tore down all that i'd created and made it something ugly. i forgot that even though i'd seen the walls, i can't drop the precious oil from my spoon.
instead i need to see my current castle being one that i'm renting for a time, til i can build one of indigenous words. i must still be grateful for its shelter. my current castle is laden with desert & mountain breathing, & full being my own being.
i need this part-time castle so i can have one full time that won't crumble. without a foundation of life, what would my word castle be built on? my oil spoon may be empty of my deep set passion, but at least it's full of beauty.
so now i will refill my spoon & have eyes opened, hopefully no longer ones drooping. my present is building what will make my word castle a home of sure joy, rather than empty dictionary piles that weigh my soul.
one step at a time, grasshopper, lest you drop your spoon.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
clocks.
i think we have rhythms just like nature & just like most things. & a lot of times those rhythms run on timers & when they go off they shout.
like with my clock that struck go & sent me to my new world full of red earth & front porch bears. i didn't know i was meant to go til i heard "get the hell out," & a final stroke that pointed southwest.
or with the one that reminded me & my purpose are decided & that the tongues that fall silent are my greatest grief; this one didn't need to roar quite the same, as it only needed to speak over the mind-lulling open/close of a cash drawer. this clock is ticking for books & lessons & languages that will be stuffed into brain so some beauty can be saved that the world has yet lost.
or with the one that ticked off the love & just ticked it back on when the time fit. moments apart can be just as blessed as those spent with, & now the second's nearing that our clocks will be met. then we can smash both their faces & linger in bed later than needed.
my clocks are calling, & they seem to be right. maybe time's made-up, but at least it keeps us from forgetting.
like with my clock that struck go & sent me to my new world full of red earth & front porch bears. i didn't know i was meant to go til i heard "get the hell out," & a final stroke that pointed southwest.
or with the one that reminded me & my purpose are decided & that the tongues that fall silent are my greatest grief; this one didn't need to roar quite the same, as it only needed to speak over the mind-lulling open/close of a cash drawer. this clock is ticking for books & lessons & languages that will be stuffed into brain so some beauty can be saved that the world has yet lost.
or with the one that ticked off the love & just ticked it back on when the time fit. moments apart can be just as blessed as those spent with, & now the second's nearing that our clocks will be met. then we can smash both their faces & linger in bed later than needed.
my clocks are calling, & they seem to be right. maybe time's made-up, but at least it keeps us from forgetting.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
one-track mind.
most of the time i find myself trying to batter my brain with weird thoughts; i shutter to think who i'd be if i'd remained two-dimensional when my cries met first air. but now i'm coming to find that the one-track mind i'd always side-stepped might be where i'm heading.
four months & 24 hours ago my lips lost their pair & my heart lost its match & my fingers lost their ten they'd held. four months & 24 hours ago i started a new path that meant my fingers would have to hold themselves & wonder where their match had gone to. four months & 24 hours ago i blazed my old life & left the love that had kept me warm the three years past.
these four months have meant adventure; i have seen & met more of southern colorado than i'd ever imagined possible in a summer. i've swam, i've camped, i've run, i've biked, i've climbed, i've jumped, i've driven, i've soaked.
these four months have meant independence; my lonely hands have been in the world without their ten best & they had to learn to be contented alone. i've met, i've made, i've created, i've baked, i've explored, i've danced, i've been whole in myself.
these four months have meant discovery; i've found new depths and widths of who i've made. i've grown, i've grieved, i've ached, i've laughed, i've melted, i've longed, i've loved.
but these four months showed me that all the adventure, all the independence, all the discovery don't taste as sweet as the love made by those ten fingers & two lips & one heart i lost four months & 24 hours ago.
brother & his love made me remember the best i'd shared with those adored fingers and blessed lips and sacred heart. it made me remember what it was like to be one-track minded when those were all i'd dream & need, when those were my world & we made each day neat. they made me remember all of the road trips we've been on, & all the moments you & i made (mosquito hells & desert suns & the like). they made me remember how much i love teasing grins out of those two lips and holding those ten fingers while we watch the fire die. they made me remember the taste of our sweet companionship, and i can't shake the aftertaste.
i want to ask you for glasses of water when you get up while we watch movies together. i want you to make me mad by telling me how slow i am. i want us to fall again & never get back up. these four months & 24 hours i hope won't grow long; my fingers & lips & heart want their pair. before i always needed you, but now you're all i want. i want to let my mind to be one-track and for you to be the only song it plays.
now i think our hands can roam but at nightfall they'll be linked if you let them; my ten have already learned yours are the only ones that fit.
four months & 24 hours ago my lips lost their pair & my heart lost its match & my fingers lost their ten they'd held. four months & 24 hours ago i started a new path that meant my fingers would have to hold themselves & wonder where their match had gone to. four months & 24 hours ago i blazed my old life & left the love that had kept me warm the three years past.
these four months have meant adventure; i have seen & met more of southern colorado than i'd ever imagined possible in a summer. i've swam, i've camped, i've run, i've biked, i've climbed, i've jumped, i've driven, i've soaked.
these four months have meant independence; my lonely hands have been in the world without their ten best & they had to learn to be contented alone. i've met, i've made, i've created, i've baked, i've explored, i've danced, i've been whole in myself.
these four months have meant discovery; i've found new depths and widths of who i've made. i've grown, i've grieved, i've ached, i've laughed, i've melted, i've longed, i've loved.
but these four months showed me that all the adventure, all the independence, all the discovery don't taste as sweet as the love made by those ten fingers & two lips & one heart i lost four months & 24 hours ago.
brother & his love made me remember the best i'd shared with those adored fingers and blessed lips and sacred heart. it made me remember what it was like to be one-track minded when those were all i'd dream & need, when those were my world & we made each day neat. they made me remember all of the road trips we've been on, & all the moments you & i made (mosquito hells & desert suns & the like). they made me remember how much i love teasing grins out of those two lips and holding those ten fingers while we watch the fire die. they made me remember the taste of our sweet companionship, and i can't shake the aftertaste.
i want to ask you for glasses of water when you get up while we watch movies together. i want you to make me mad by telling me how slow i am. i want us to fall again & never get back up. these four months & 24 hours i hope won't grow long; my fingers & lips & heart want their pair. before i always needed you, but now you're all i want. i want to let my mind to be one-track and for you to be the only song it plays.
now i think our hands can roam but at nightfall they'll be linked if you let them; my ten have already learned yours are the only ones that fit.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
things my mama told me.
sailing over hills & diving into valleys brought my ears stories that my 6 year old self forgot to tell me. all of them were what mama used to say.
when my left torn hiking boot dragged up to its tromper sister at summit, i started to remember some of those things mama used to say. you know? i think that's what fall always does to us. it sits us down & shuts us up, & tells us all that we've forgot.
like staring down on the aspen gangs flashing their colors and making us stay. mama always used to say when leaves make aspen gold & everything slows that i'll need my flannel coat. she used to say that when the leaves let go and the branches do too that we need to decide what we hope is letting go of us too. she used to say a lot of things, but i've always loved the way she spoke of those trees.
& when that hawk spiraled & linked talon with branch i remembered why mama always used to say the view's always sweetest from the top. she always used to say that it'd make us remember how small we really are, and that thinking you're too big might crumble all the rest. she used to say that the view from the top doesn't mean you deserve anything more, just that you understand most things better than the creatures who choose to stay below.
i remembered a lot of things mama used to say while i scoped magic spires and wanderlust peaks. the most important thing i think had to of been what mama always used to say fall meant. she used to always say fall means we should let our lungs grieve and let ourselves be naked; she always used to say autumn's telling us to shed the bad and love our losses. i think fall reminded me today of what mama used to say, and today's the day i really feel it.
when my left torn hiking boot dragged up to its tromper sister at summit, i started to remember some of those things mama used to say. you know? i think that's what fall always does to us. it sits us down & shuts us up, & tells us all that we've forgot.
like staring down on the aspen gangs flashing their colors and making us stay. mama always used to say when leaves make aspen gold & everything slows that i'll need my flannel coat. she used to say that when the leaves let go and the branches do too that we need to decide what we hope is letting go of us too. she used to say a lot of things, but i've always loved the way she spoke of those trees.
& when that hawk spiraled & linked talon with branch i remembered why mama always used to say the view's always sweetest from the top. she always used to say that it'd make us remember how small we really are, and that thinking you're too big might crumble all the rest. she used to say that the view from the top doesn't mean you deserve anything more, just that you understand most things better than the creatures who choose to stay below.
i remembered a lot of things mama used to say while i scoped magic spires and wanderlust peaks. the most important thing i think had to of been what mama always used to say fall meant. she used to always say fall means we should let our lungs grieve and let ourselves be naked; she always used to say autumn's telling us to shed the bad and love our losses. i think fall reminded me today of what mama used to say, and today's the day i really feel it.
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