ideas?

12.6.09 (a working draft...this needs revision, and i need ideas for it...)

We were surprisingly pure white
like the whiskers of a man
grown old overnight by
some old dark magic.

Though we’d spent years in
that soot-dimmed room
trying to make sense out
of the smoke and ashes.

Though we’d walked miles in
that fenced-in garden
carving circles of regret
in the unwilling dirt.

We were surprisingly pure white
like the fur of the rabbit
pulled unexpectedly out of
some old black hat.

Weathered. (summer fiction draft)

It's not really a secret on any night but tonight. I come here just to be. My belly presses against the cool concrete ledge that exfoliates my elbows. I can't decide if I'm comfortable, but my coffee is a warm blanket and the passing storm a cool breeze.

I keep looking over my shoulder, as if you'd be there. I want you to be there. I want to call you, to go to the house and bring you here, but it's more romantic knowing you don't know where I am.

The clean electricity skims my nose, and I listen to the sounds of the undisturbed city. The rain has stopped, but flashes still light the sky from end to end.

Even though I'm here by myself, I realize that I'm never alone now. My thoughts are tethered to you and they roam and swing, but they always wrap themselves back around you.

I've passed a long time here, and it's much colder. The storm clouds are indistinguishable now that the sun has set. I watch for headlights, afraid of being found. But I root myself further into the concrete as the silence confirms my solitude...

While it has taken me awhile to realize, I know I've been planted with you, too. We grow as separate trees but our roots have become entangled. Storms come and sometimes they claim a branch or two, but none will ever uproot my thoughts, me, from you...

I think we're alone now...

I've been thinking a lot lately about the paradox of loneliness. It is generally thought to be an unpleasant and undesirable feeling, yet it is what often opens our hearts to new possibilities, even those within possibilities that already exist, and it also paves the way to newfound understanding of our deepest selves. So in one sense, I run from loneliness in order to enjoy the deep connection I have with others, but I also want to cautiously enter into the cave of loneliness to mine its riches.

We don't like talking about this feeling--or others like it. We think of it as negative, something to be avoided, something shameful. How, with deep and meaningful relationships, can one feel stark loneliness? I think part of it stems from a misunderstanding of the feeling. Sure, loneliness includes wanting more deep relationships, but the true heart of the experience is realizing that in the midst of even deep relationships, no matter how connected we are to other souls, at the end of the day, we will always be basically alone. Even swimming in a sea of shared love, I am the only one who can understand how I feel when floating or when struggling for the surface. And even then, understanding oneself is highly difficult, thus intensifying the experience of loneliness. Not even I can fully commune with me.

I love how God seems to connect us to things most valuable at our most present time of need. Though I've known of the publication for years, I've never connected with The Sun until recently. And the more of it I read, the more I find connections in the articles and short stories to questions and thoughts I currently face. I stumbled upon an article in The Sun's archives today from 1986. The editor, Sy Safransky, interviewed one of his teachers: Stephen Schwartz. Schwartz talked about feelings in an unorthodox way: connecting them to their presence in the body in order to face their heart instead of their interpretations. He writes:

"Disliking feelings or making them wrong never solves problems. The reason we dislike them in the first place is because we’ve been taught to. There is nothing in the feeling to dislike. It is a movement in the body, a flow of something, maybe a hurt or a woundedness, which we assume to be weak, neurotic, or wrong. All those labels are made up.

Feelings come and feelings go. The interruption of this flow comes from conditioning, from habitually imposed responses. When a person turns toward whatever is being felt in the body, it is always different from what they initially thought.

Something is happening to us as human beings that can’t be explained by surface events or by the psychological dogmas that parade as truth. Deeper than the content of life swells a mysterious force — a presence, if you will — which is guiding us towards an unknown end."

I like the freedom to charge into the heart of emotions, versus doing all I can to resist them, in order to learn more about myself and the truth of experience. Who knows what gems I'll find in allowing myself to feel alone. I don't see it as a sad and hopeless feeling or process, but a deep significance, one which requires acceptance, respect and just some time to dig through.

Altered.

...and out from my fumbling fingers slips the unfilled jar I've been holding onto all my life. Crashing open, it releases all I've ever known onto the dirty floor, mixing with salt and blades of grass and yesterday's rice. I want more than anything to sweep it up with my shaking arms, but I know that I can never separate out the dirt or put it all back into my shattered jar. For as fire forever alters what's been burned, so changed are all my realities when faced with the idea of You.

Fields

She walks through Earth's whiskers along a clumsy path as if she's wandering. Almost drifting, she browses the trees, swaying conveniently with the wind. The tall rough grasses bow out of her way, and she thanks them with her light step.

Everyday I see her there. She maintains her route as if her footsteps create the refrain to her favorite song. As she stops to watch the far off road, the wind carries the song to her lover. And after a few moments, the gentle smile on her face reveals he's sent one back. Though I often try, I cannot hear what it is she hears.

(from January 1, 2009)

?

(A story from 2006. Not sure what to think of it now...what does it mean?)

Little did he know, he left the light on in the kitchen. He thought he had flicked it off this morning...but he didn't. I guess it was ok.

"Be sure to turn the light off in the kitchen," she had said. She was a reasonable woman with few requests. But she had a thing about turning off the kitchen light when they left the room. It was ok to leave the bedroom light on for the evening if they were watching tv in the den or even to leave the bathroom light on as a nightlight. But just turn the light off in the kitchen.

He came home to an empty house. She wouldn't know...so he thought. He turned off the light, his breathing pausing slightly. He didn't mean to forget this morning....it just happened. Just like the day happened.

"By the way," she said, "did you take out the trash today?"

"Yes," he said, with a glance her way.

"Ok," she sighed.

She had forgotten his dry cleaning. He reminded her about it this morning. I guess she just forgot. He didn't bring it up so neither did she.

They played a game of checkers while sipping wine. They always listened to Johnny Cash when they played checkers. Sometimes he let her win, and sometimes she let him win.

She knew about the light, and he knew about the dry cleaning.

They kissed goodnight.

In the morning, she flicked the kitchen light off before she left, and he left early to pick up his dry cleaning.

Little did they know.

Hidden Treasure

In between the green trees and dark mountains of Guatemala lie los pueblos de oro, no, rather, the sparkling diamonds of a beautiful life. What seems at a glance to be concrete and rusted tin and poverty and danger turns out to be the hidden jewels of a simple but rich life. Even largely unrealized to the inhabitants, these treasure chests carry a value more important than money and glamour and luxury. Though few come searching, the rare that mine these fields find a part of the very soul of the earth. And dwelling in eternity, as souls do, the treasure waits to be discovered and rediscovered by any who choose to hunt a different kind of diamond.

This was my journal entry written as we we're riding on the bus out of Xela. At the end of the trip, it struck me that more than one person told me to tell others about Guatemala. Tell them you had a good time, tell them it's beautiful, tell them it's not so dangerous, they'd say. While all those things are true, I found it so interesting that they wanted so badly for people to know the truth about Guatemala, versus the overload of negative ideas out there about the developing country.

Returning from Guatemala has been an exhausting process, but leaving this time was much different from leaving last year. At the end of my trip last year, I was excited to come home and see family and friends again, but something felt wrong about leaving Xela. The trip back this year opened up the wound a bit at first. However, it seemed to have healed in two weeks. Leaving this time felt right, like I had a chance to say goodbye properly knowing my home is not in Guatemala, though I'll always love it there.

¨The one you love is 70% water...¨

Rewind a week:

Friday: school dinner, guitar serenades and dancing in the closet sized King and Queen bar...accidentaly bought a beer with hot sauce in it. wasn´t a fan. they replaced it with a strawberry drink and the waiter said he´d drink the beer. welcome to guatemala.

Saturday: climbed mount Baul. picnic-ed together as a school and watched a big slide ease the cares of the world. climbed down -off the path- and picked up some bug bites. welcome to guatemala.

Sunday: sleep!

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday: sick-os. doctor visit, pharmacy, bed, rest. oh, and RAIN!!! welcome to guatemala.

Thursday: hot springs....rode through the clouds up to a place close to heaven. definitely was a fan. ahhh yes....guatemala.

It hasn´t been a cush vacation, but as always life in guatemala is good.

As for the last few days? not sure...probably more rain, hopefully no more sickness, and definitely more fun!

Crowded streets and Latin Beats

Even though I feel as in a fog as I´m recovering from a sudden onset of the Traveler´s sickness (look at me--I´m so PC!), my experiences so far in Xela have been just what I imagined.

It´s a great thing to return to a place you know. Coming to town, I knew how to get to our hostel, how to direct other travelers to their destinations, where would be the best place to find licuados, and how to find the other salsa club when the first one gets boring. I like knowing Xela, for the most part, and that she welcomes me with her scents and crowded sidewalks and familiar street corners and Xelapan and cars thumping Bachata...

It has been difficult to return and not expect everything to be the same as I left it. I walk into the cafe or the coffeehouse and I expect to see people from last year there. I look for the familiar faces on the street. And I miss the routine I had when here. That said, though, I also love that this is different. I´m with great friends now, we´re at a new school which so far has been great, we´re staying in a new place, so I get to see now a new face to Xela.

I am fully here, and what a great experience so far, despite the extremely premature sickness. However, when you travel or take an adventure with friends, there are the possibilities of a theme song arising. This is not something you can direct; it just falls into place. What, to our regret, seems to be coming up as that so far is that song by Doughtry ¨I´m coming home¨ or whatever...it´s so cheesy and I don´t want to remember this trip by that song, but there´s a sense of humor there. While I feel a little as íf I´m coming home to Xela, I also know that going home to Aberdeen will perhaps feel a little more like the place where I belong.

Sidenote: I just realized that what I thought were typed as apostrophes are actually tildes. I had a lesson on tildes today and my teacher --an elderly man named Nery-- drew a large version of a tilde for me. Not sure why...but I think that´s pretty cool.

Words inspire me.

I discovered today that I want so badly to inspire and be inspired. This inspired me tonight: (from a poem by Hafiz)

Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,

Break all our teacup talk of God.

If you had the courage and

Could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,

He would just drag you around the room

By your hair,

Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world

That bring you no joy.

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly

And wants to rip to shreds

All your erroneous notions of truth

That make you fight within yourself, dear one,

And with others,

Causing the world to weep

On too many fine days.

Everything changes....

Walking out of the coffeehouse this afternoon, I thought I saw someone across the street that I haven't seen in a long time. I was never close with this person--he was a doctor I saw a long time ago--but seeing him brought back memories and the state of mind I was in when I went to him. Immediately I wondered what kind of advice he was giving patients these days...assuming that it is different from what he gave back when I saw him. I wondered if he had many new discoveries and how they were affecting his practice.

Personal evolution is so fascinating to me. I was talking with friends today about how everything changes. Even if we think we're doing the same things everyday-- going to work, making dinner, cleaning the house, going to bed, etc.-- really, every day and every moment is new and different. And on top of that, this person who is doing these things (ourselves) is different from the one who did it yesterday or a year ago. We all change and evolve in our personality, beliefs, skills, ideas, etc.

It's so interesting to see how people have evolved or changed since we last saw them. That's one of the joys of connecting with old friends--the idea that "I know I have changed since I saw this person....I wonder how they have changed as well? What new points can we connect on now? What different ideas and changes and decisions have we made?" We can discover people anew all the time. Even those we see everyday have the opportunity to be a "new" person each day...what new things will I discover about my close friends and family that defy the boundaries they live in within my head? How is their growth/change similar and different from my own?

Way cool. Anyway, all this from the curiousity about what my old doctor thinks about supplements. Hmm.

Dreams of hovering...?

I had a crazy dream that I have to write down:



I was interested in learning more about a record company that put out new age/chill/lounge music. I found out that the owner of the record company would go out to the middle of a lake or body of water and sit on top of the water or hover on top of it to listen to the music and make his decisions.

I wanted to spend more time with the company to learn more and I found out that a group of people who worked in the company all shared the same belief: that everything a professor at NSU said was correct and possible. This professor said (in the dream, not in real life) that everyone has the ability to fly/hover/levitate, but people haven't done it for so long because they don't think they can. But the people at this record company believed it and could.

There were four people who had these abilities: 2 people would hover or levitate above the ground with their heads lower than their feet--they were called hoverers. The other 2 people would stand next to the hoverers and hold their palms near the feet of the hoverers to give them energy--these people were called holders. They did these things when they were brainstorming and planning because it gave them new ideas/creativity/etc. There were other people at the company who knew about this but didn't hover or hold.

Well, eventually the hoverers and holders realized that the others at the company had the same abilities but never knew they had them or believed that they could use them. So the hoverers and holders decided to name/appoint the people who had these abilities as a way to pass the baton and help them realize their potential. As they began to name the new hoverers and holders, the previous hoverers and holders would fall down and suddenly become very old and weak when just a minute before they had been young and strong. As the last of the hoverers and holders were named, I fell down too and suddenly became very old and weak. I was surprised at first but then I realized that I had memories of being a holder.

Those of us who HAD been hoverers and holders decided to crawl to another room where we saw old women doing yoga. We decided to join them as we thought it might give us some of our energy and strength back.

At this point in my dream, I woke up (though I was still actually dreaming). I was in the room with the people doing yoga, but the whole hoverers/holders thing was the dream. I was trying to tell the people I was with about it, but one person kept cutting me off, so I began to try to talk over him instead of ask him to stop talking. It didn't really work and I felt like I had an important story to tell and no one was listening.


The end.

WEIRD!

Humanidejacarnation

Apart from the whole idea of reincarnation, which I know little about, sometimes I think it's possible to remember someone before you meet them. Or to remember an event, as if it's occurrence rings a bell somewhere in our humanity. Maybe that's somehow connected to dejavu...or maybe it's a way to subconsciously make comfortable a new situation. Or maybe it is an example of how we are all connected as living beings.

Anyway, I'm not sure how to explain it, and what my mind is thinking is different from what will come out in writing (as expressed interestingly in this controversial article: http://www.good.is/?p=8133). Despite all that, it's been on my mind so I wrote a song about it.

V: Across vast oceans and trembling seas
There's a sky of memories and dreams
What I thought gone now arrives anew
And though we've just met, I remember you.

C: Look up, I am there
In that sky, and in this air
Give me your hand, and burdens to bear
'cause I remember you.


So, it's only a short bit. I don't like rhyming, but for the melody I suppose it works. Anyway, it's a work in progress, but I figured I'd share, since one of my latest attempts is "to share what i might otherwise hoard." So I'm sharing my humani-deja-carnation idea. Es possible? Thoughts?

I'm not really talking about a psychic thing where one knows what's going to happen when in these situations, but this feeling that one gets when they witness something amazing and something resonates with them as if it is familiar, though it is brand new. Maybe it's the brand-newness that's familiar, or maybe it's the feeling of excitement...I'm not sure.

What do you think?

la luz del sol

"Waking up without you is like drinking from an empty cup." --Damien Rice

I spent the last twenty four hours outside of Aberdeen, and while I cannot recount all that happened in that time -- there simply is not time, and no one wants to read all the details which would seem overly mundane to anyone else -- what I can say is that rarely have I appreciated Aberdeen more than this night.

There are times in life when you just know something to be true. You feel it in the form of a content solemnity or a quiet trust. You recognize it by the way it causes you to want to both cry and rejoice, and you may do a little of each or even nothing at all. It waits for you, and it always knows that you will find it in its gentle sunshine.

As I drove back into the city, with the companionship of a kindred spirit, I recognized a place I truly love. I love Aberdeen. I love its dirty water and run down buildings. I love its history and the possibilities. I love it's people. I love that it has welcomed me. I love that I know its shortcuts and that there are still streets I've never been on. I love that it has a heartbeat, and though we may not always realize it, that pulse carries a lot of good, loving, healing life to its own bodily needs through its own people.

Though the sun had passed the horizon and was then lighting a new morning around the globe as I entered from the east, I somehow drove into that gentle sunbeam, where no matter what, I know that I truly love living in Aberdeen.

Wise words that I didn't think up. haha.

Be here now.

Want what you have.

Expect meaning and possibility and success versus failure and emptyness.

Embrace what we might otherwise avoid; share what we might otherwise hoard.

Speak words of love and forgiveness and acceptance to yourself as you would to your best friend.

Fake it until you make it when it comes to your mood and attitude.

Reflecting on 2008

I've been thinking a lot recently about 2008 and all it has been. Wow. Personally, financially, politically, etc....it's been an interesting 361 days so far...woah!

I often would like to make a bigger deal out of the passing of a year, but I rarely do. I feel that New Year's Eve is an important night, but mostly because it's a fun night to party with friends and family. But deep down there is a deeper significance for me...I can't help but want to take time to reflect on the past year in order to better appreciate and learn from 2008.

So, I've been spending a little time doing just that. I've been thinking and writing and remembering just how amazing this past year has been. ...and the process has been sweet. Though I have regrets, as we all do, the things that stand out to me are the blessings. Every moment, every day is an experience to be cherished and I can't say how thankful I am for every moment and points of learning I've had this year. And what's better? It doesn't cost me anything to maintain them...no one can steal them from me....and thanks to imagination, I can go back to those moments whenever I please! wow....

Ok, I tend to get a tad cheesy about this stuff....but I don't care. 2008 has been a year of learning for me, and I'd like to carry the lessons of "living in the moment" and "don't hold back appreciation" into the new year. Maybe soon I'll make a more comprehensive list of some of the lessons of 2008 for further written reflection.

Anyway, I'm glad to be making more of a process out of this transition into the New Year. I want to be mindful and intentional about this next year....and perhaps this is a good method for me.

Hi, my new name is Joy. What's your name?

"I came here with a load, but I feel so much lighter since I met you."

I love Coldplay. They definitely make the list of bands whose songs bring me to the deeper end of my thoughts.

It's been awhile since my last post. It's been a dark autumn. I've been walking a rocky road of health, emotions, and work, but I feel as though the path is becoming a bit smoother.

I'm working on experiencing/appreciating/looking for joy in my life, especially this week. It's been going well. I'm finding joy again in places I thought were empty of it, and that's encouraging.

Maybe I will write more of this adventure soon. Joy is always a good subject to write about, especially with all of the published topics which are filled with the opposite of joy, and of course it will help me in my attempt to use words to build up and not to tear down.

old poem

I think I wrote this sometime in December 2007....


Find me here
in the still violence of winter--
in the deafening night, find me.

Look for me
in the clouds of chaos--
in the madness of your mind, find me.

Seek me,
in the hands of my enemies--
in the shelter of the prison, find me.

buddha board

We have this thing at our house called a Buddha Board. It's pretty cool, really. Here's how it works: Take the paintbrush, dip it in water and paint a picture on the board. The board magically turns black with the water. But don't get too attached--as the water on the board dries, the painted image disappears!

The theory behind this, according to the printed materials that came with the board, is to practice mindfulness. Learn to let go. Appreciate what you've created and then allow it to dissolve into oblivion.

I like this theory. I like to use the Buddha Board to just paint whatever comes out with minimal editing. Then I like to look at the image for awhile, to absorb it rather than critique it, though that can be quite difficult sometimes. It's nice to be able to create something, appreciate it for what it is, and then to acknowledge that I will never see it again.

But! That was not the lesson from the Buddha Board tonight. Tonight as I was painting, I decided to try an experiment. I noticed some of the water dripping down the board. So I added a streak of water at the top to watch where it ran. It reminded me slightly of rain on a car window.

I remember on family car rides watching the rain drop patterns on the car windows. It seemed that the new drops of rain always followed the easiest path--the one that had already been created by previous rain drops. It was the same with the water on the Buddha Board. I found myself trying to add more water to "uncarved" areas, but most of the time the drops found their way to a carved path. However, those that did manage to forge a new path ended up changing the picture quite significantly.

Tonight, what was meant to be a painting acted as a mirror. I too would most of the time rather slide down a path that has already been smoothed out for me. It can be very difficult to go into new territory and deal with the friction that we inevitably find there. But, I realize, sometimes when I don't follow exactly what is expected or "planned" for me by myself or others, the result can be just as interesting, if not more so, than the picture already painted.

Sometimes it is nice to slide though.

a low hum. do you hear that?

I'm sitting here, drinking amazing Tulsi tea and listening to some of the most beautiful oboe music I have ever heard, and thinking about the evening.

Tonight, Aberdeen's beloved band Junebug came back for a CD release party. Fed by Doris and Blue Orange also made appearances, and everyone was there. As I was listening to these great bands and seeing people hang out with each other just like they have for so many years, I couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the beauty and "right-ness" of the night. These people have been friends, supported each other and shared coffee together for countless hours, and though there were new and old faces, it was like each one of us had always been there.

Later, I went for a walk. For some reason I just wanted to walk by myself. I found some visual treasures along the way but ended up finding a bench to sit on for a little while. At first, I was somewhat self-conscious as I didn't know what people would think of me just sitting on the bench by myself at night doing absolutely nothing. Everytime a car went by I would try to look normal--whatever that looks like. After awhile of this, I started to relize that no one noticed that I was there. It was only my mind creating this awkwardness, not looks of bewilderment from passersby. Then it became slightly funny to me. There I was sitting on a bench late in the evening by myself doing nothing...and I loved that no one knew that I was there!

As I sat there, I tried to pick out the noises that I heard and dissect them. Eventually it came down to a hum, and if you've ever done anything like that before, you know that a hum layered underneath everyday noises can be impressively loud once noticed. Usually if I think about it for awhile, I can figure out where it's coming from. However, tonight, the hum seemed to come from the city itself--not a building, not a machine, not a light post...just from the collective community.

I sat there listening and thinking about what was going on a few blocks away from me at the coffeehouse. I thought about the people meeting up there to listen to their friends play interesting music. I thought about what that place and those people represent to me and to each other and to Aberdeen. Perhaps most of us who go there often and who are affected by and thankful for the coffeehouse don't think of it everyday or appreciate it blatantly. Perhaps it is because what has been created there is like the low-layered hum of the community--in our everyday lives we don't realize how impressive and impacting it is until we stop to to peel away the layers and pay attention to it. It's there, sitting on the bench in the dark, even if we don't always pause to look for it.