I’ve learned to walk through water, to breathe tiny breaths. You lick the salt from my skin but it falls from your mouth onto a barren bed. Sweat and blood dissolve then reappear like invisible ink. The pool I lie in is stagnant, droplets levitate just out of reach. Bone and sinew recoil, expand, one foot in front of the other. Continue reading Going Forward
Dark Air (After Chika Sagawa) Sunlight skipping through the garden doesn’t always dispel cold shade. Still legs rest on a warm stone bench, half-forgetting the whip of running through meadow grass. Continue reading Dark Air
On a beautiful summer day when the humidity gives us a break, I walk the dog through my (relatively) quiet neighborhood, craving the different quiet of the deep woods, the real soul quiet where the only noise is the muffled flutterings of little birds, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, and my solitary footsteps on the forest floor. Continue reading Morning Meditation: Quiet
What are ashes but the left-behinds, the fading static, the doppelgänger of used-to-be. Yet. Born of the earth but not earth-bound, rising light as air into the jet stream, hitching a ride to forevermore. Continue reading Tourbillion
“Live one day at a time. Keep your attention in present time. Have no expectations. Make no judgements. And give up the need to know why things happen as they do. Give it up!” ~Caroline Myss, Why People Don’t Heal and How They Can: A Practical Programme for Healing Body, Mind and Spirit Continue reading Inspiration Monday: Carolyn Myss
“Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with heart and soul there is no such thing as separation.” ― Rumi Continue reading Inspiration Monday: Rumi
“I am a frayed and nibbled survivor in a fallen world, and I am getting along. I am aging and eaten and have done my share of eating too. I am not washed and beautiful, in control of a shining world in which everything fits, but instead am wondering awed about on a splintered wreck I’ve come to care for, whose gnawed trees breathe a delicate air, whose bloodied and scarred creatures are my dearest companions, and whose beauty bats and shines not in its imperfections but overwhelmingly in spite of them…” ― Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek Continue reading Inspiration Monday: Annie Dillard
It’s another balmy day in paradise. I push down the plunger in the French Press, inhaling the earthy aroma of the blackest of coffees called Community. The morning paper lies on the coffee table waiting for its unfolding, opening and adjusting shake. “Sneaking Sally Through The Alley” is dancing out of the Boze, WWOZ accommodating its listeners with the best music in the country, bar none. Noise from the street wafts through the open French doors: the rummmm-rummmm of the city bus, the high-pitched laughter of kids on Christmas break, the artificially cheerful greeting of “order when you’re ready!” … Continue reading Another Day in the Crescent City
Pick a day when the sunlight dances on little red Corvettes and snow in April, when elevators reach a higher floor and you can always see the sun. Choose a day that incites a parade so purple the cells in your body tingle like pop rocks and guitars exploding, feeling proud in the light of this power. Give the world all your extra time and kiss this parade we call life where he taught us to love and laugh and celebrate in purple rain and stars that fall from the sky. ***** Prompt courtesy of Found Poetry Review: Take an erasure … Continue reading Thank You for a Funky Time
