Thursday, December 18, 2014

With the snow fall: waxing thoughts

Morning time, the snow falling - thoughts about skiing in powder, and then what I might do instead. The clock ripens, demonstrates that it is time to wake up the little man - my lady friend's son, Kaiden. He needs to be at school in an hour and I am the oldest one responsible between now and the walk to school. Toast, cold cereal and tea - two cups for me, please - a quick, whirlwind tour of some Beatles songs whilst ingesting, Lego play on the dinner (breakfast in this case) table, and a spinning tornado of a quick wardrobe change leaves K-dawg and I out on the driveway, top-of-the-foot deep in fresh powder. Looking up,  I see the butte, proud and pointy, its rock outcroppings dusted with snow, basking in the morning glow - one of its corner systems on the south eastern face slicing the difference between illumination and darkness. What if the rest of the world looks like this?, I think to myself.

What if everyone had the opportunity to wake up to fresh snow in the winter, a mountainous landscape surrounding; heck, what if they even were fortunate to wake up to a warm house, running water and flushing toilets, cereal in the cupboard and milk in the fridge. What kind of world would we be living in if this kind of access to the basics was parallel across many different boundaries and cultures? How would this impact my understanding of the positivity that I am privileged to experience 9 times out of 10 in any given day? And, how does this place, call it currently a winter wonderland, feed me?

Questions, ponderings, circular thoughts with two dimensional answers - the dualities: heat/cold, love/hate, life/death...

Kaiden and I follow separate, yet intertwining bike paths, running parallel to one another along the length of the sidewalk. He remarks about walking upon all of the bike tracks as two more trails, evidence of someone else's recent movements, join the fray. I think aloud, half addressing him, half addressing myself - my questions about this place, and what the rest of the world may be like - settling on the expression I've heard and said many times: it's all relative.

Relative, proportionate, corresponding; near, with respect to, connected. Tracing the outline of these synonyms in my mind, I associate thoughts in my head, with a general, overwhelming theme of privilege, and gratefulness for the former. Wow. Perhaps, that is where I'll depart this thought - at this point, this juncture in the tracks.

I am thankful for this current expression of love and living; for snowy walks down sidewalks with young minds, caring and aware souls, and this place we call home. Thank you!


Friday, December 12, 2014

Reverie's Dialogue: sitting by the river

Before sitting down to type, I sat by the river, taking it all in: the sun cresting the ridge above town and as the rays warmed the ground and river bank around me, I noticed a subtle breeze moving about in the green grasses yellowing with winter's movement into the Animas Valley. I saw the plants regain some of the vitality that the cold night may have sapped; I witnessed the sun's reflection in the ripple of the river; the relative silence of my conscious thoughts, and the subsequent foresight of my insecurities, future-tense, displaying on the walls of my mind. 

Sitting long, longer in silence the lay of the ground in front of my seated form seems to fold closer, no longer does the river feel further away; I am nearing its edge - the roll of the water on its course. A course that has carved our natural landscapes for hundreds of thousands of years, uniformly and unmolested by industrial creep and human desire. The progression unfolding, meeting resistive objects with a general sense of nonviolence and nonchalance in most given moments of time. 

How is it, then, that when nature's destructive coercion roars its necessary head, altering en-mass any and all objects in its path, that we feel obliged, necessitated by a sense of status-norm, to return our presumptions of the natural environment and society's boon to what they were before, pre-ruination? Is it fear that holds us in patterns of the known? 

I notice my tendency to judge, to predict - as to unconsciously prepare a reaction - should such things occur, future-tense. I then consider how, through peer feedback and introspection, my energy, my truth is less for the deception of my judgments and more for living in the moment and observing the dialogue that precludes an open and sound right to entertain living love-forward first. 

I recognize through contemplation that sometimes I wish, in a subconscious space bubbling forth into higher cognition, to heavily influence what I'd like to see happen. I wonder where this comes from? Was it born or bred into my behaviors? Was it something I've studied and perfected in order to get what I selfishly desire? I tip my hat to acknowledge thoughts about my Ego's conveyance of desire, surely it knows what it wants to the point of confusing, distracting and belittling other higher thoughts of sense and cognition. And what of intuition's loving encouragement, parceled out between and sometimes just under the louder volume of created thought? Where does it fit into this wish to heavy-hand the outcome before me? 

And what of the heart?

The rhythm disturbing the air near my ears courses through my body - like an electric current in rapid transport - mirrored in the tap of my feet on the floor. I regard this movement as energy and recognize this other part of me; the body. Within this resides a highly complex and coordinated system of movement and structure, input and output, and energy - always transferring amongst the tiniest of imperceptible molecules; for we cannot create nor destroy - only use what is there, existing in the universe. 

Brings me back to the heart, the universe, energy; all of these 3 inter-relying on one another. The complexities of it all. With heart lending truth to our concepts of ourselves and others and the world around us, the universe providing the opportunities, and energy serving as the direct link between my heart and yours, and our universe. Prosperity and achievement - call it an evolution of love over Ego and selfishness - resulting. 

Though, does it not bode best when we are responsible for our energies, dualistic or multiplistic? Our actions or inactions? Our desire to change, to judge, to feel powerful and demonstrative within ourselves and around others? 

A blue heron flying over head disturbs my thoughts. I blink once, twice, noticing that some cars move on the far bank of the river. Had I not noticed them, nor their sound, before?  Readjusting in my seated position, I look side to side, up into the clouds of sky above stretching and appreciate the beauty around me and within the shared thoughts of consciousness. Sitting down finally to type, to share, to paint upon the canvas that is expression of life and living. 


Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Autumn Reflections

The morning snow falls, down from the sky, the clouds overhead, lightly landing on the grasses green and leaves yellow. It is October 1st and already a snowy landscape is being painted here in the interior mountains of Colorado. I, in the bliss of season's change, am entering an introspectively reflective space. With the snow comes some biological change, germinating from inside out.

The sun peeks out of the clouds every now and again in the early morning sky, smiling as it does todos los dias somewhere, always. At and adjacent table, in the coffee shop where I write, a couple in their late 50s attempts conversation, while a beautiful young lady passes, nabbing my attention for a quick second in one passing swoop. Easily distracted and similarly reminded, I focus on writing. Somehow, the couple reminds me of the delicate balance and compromise that is required for a long-term relationship to thrive. Observing the man's body language with no ear for what is being said, I percieve his disinterest in his wife's conversational pieces. That, or I am projecting how I, in some manner or another, have been in those shoes - either directly, or through seeing my own father and mother interact, and the lack of complete interest and engagement. A swift feeling of sadness wells up inside, enough for me to notice its internal uttering.

Jimi's guitar and words, synchronized with his heart and soul, play in my ears and dance on my heart...
it's only a dream, I'd love to tell somebody about this dream: the sky was filled with a thousand stars, while the sun kissed the mountains blue, and eleven moons played across the rainbows above me and you... 

This stomach of mine grumbles, not enough fuel of solidity has entered this morning. Choosing coffee over tea this morning, plus a singular banana, has not been enough to quell the internal hunger riot forming in my innards. My hands are cold, though not nearly as chilled as they were the night before as I sat beside my bed in the van - bearing the cold evening air, not yet filled with snow particulate, to finish a book - The Celestine Prophecy. Powerful were its messages, the most prominent for me was about control dramas - ways we manipulated for energy, attention, since we were children, and how these dramas still remain consciously true in our adult lives. Again, I think of the man and woman couple, his aloof drama combined with her poor me drama; they both desired energy, attention, and in the complexity of their shared lives, they may have forgotten how to tap into the universal love that is all around us. Instead, when narrowly focused, we attempt to subtly control others for their energy, so that we can be filled again.

I notice how, while listening to Jimi play and sing, that I feel filled - energized by the beauty that he shared with the world and I wonder how else in my day I will tap into universality. I love this feeling, that life is a huge mural, with real consequences, interactions and experiences, upon which we paint our mutual existences. I pray that this never changes.

Thinking of my own morality, reminded by the chill of seasons changing, I grasp how I'll go about making the most of this visit to Earth that I am blessed with - living love forward. That sounds a solid approach plan.

The sun warms the ground through the clouds and those upon it. The mountains, too, warm the heart with their illustrious grandeur, all dusted in white. Thank you for this perspective; for continually loving!

In the spirit of change that autumn reflections bring,

Sunday, September 28, 2014

I flirt with the edge between fulfillment and failure, teetering on it - feeling the figurative wind blow up from one side of the precipice and down the other - wondering what it would be like. Something gives and there I am in free-fall... drops away, thoughts float, feelings, too. Nothing physically is recognizable for this thrives on in another realm, a spiritual one. Things surface, not from below but from within; stuff, experiences, memories that have been sitting with and on my heart and mind, laying in wait for sense to accompany outward. Intuitive indications of how to proceed, feeling grounded in its guidance.

This is how it feels as I land today, this morning. Waking up to the blessing of rain dancing and drumming on the roof top of the van, and lots of it - accompanied by the winds of Autumnal change that blow the rusting leaves right off their tender tetherings - I am not sensing how to feel or what to think, rather, experiencing it all as it comes. Bit by bit, smiling in a space of contentedness for what is given, for what I am blessed with, and for the care I experienced and continue to feel around me. Grateful am I, too, for what is is I already have!

I imagine another; the landings of thoughts and feelings - of self with just self; the challenge, the reward, the journey forward.

As Janis Joplin plays the rain continues to pour, my inner processing flows outward in the form of abstract wording; I am what I make of myself. Perhaps this is healing in motion...coming back into a loving space, shedding self-limiting notions that rob us of personal power, power for love in our moments, some past, many future, and only one current, here and now.

Thank you for your continual support; for your love and care.


Saturday, August 9, 2014

Wisdom in the Wilds

"With great responsibility comes great power..."

So it has been said, and in the same vein, does it hold true that, with great wisdom comes great responsibility?

In the last few weeks, more so the recent week, I've been diving into myself - into the things that make me me. Exploring the emotional energy I've been carrying since who knows when. "Stuff" I've had since I was a child, since adolescence, and especially things from who I acted as when I was in my early 20s. I am glad and grateful to have the space in my life to take this literal time-out in my day or week, to be absorbed in my "stuff," and thus have friends and strangers to open-up and share with. To relate to others as having a similar experience, with the unique nuances that come with each individual's life path, inherent challenges and journeys, etc.

I've found the beauty in these mountains of the interior Rockies to be expansive, larger-than-life reminders of the positivity evocable in this world. Of the amount of love that is out there, tugging at our consciousness to be acknowledged, admired, and interred. For when I leave those vast spaces, those spaces where complex processes are going-on with simple components, I am filled with joy and a love that encourages me to face the challenges of the other parts of the world quite unlike those in the wilds, and to experience myself reacting and responding to the stimuli and triggers around me. Being objective about fear, and not consumed by its subjective distraction.

I am grateful for this duality, just like sitting in the cool shade looking at the sunny warmth a mere foot away, and perceiving then experiencing how the shift from one extreme to the other changes the way I think and feel - much like the wilds to society.

It is my hope that more people experience this, and in such a way that societal things fall away as they travel up and into the mountains - or wild places that intrigue and fill them with awe and wonder. Leave the camera, the car, and certainly the phone - as I have come to understand, we are already exactly suited for this adventure; all we truly need is the essentials and a conscious thought to go without our habitual comforts for a short, satisfying smidgen of time.

This is my hope.

Love to you in your days, in your minutes of free time, and to the seconds that permit us a chance to be blissed and blessed in the moment at hand, mind, and heart that may never come again.

Accepting and loving that thought,

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

A month in speed; a mind in space

The way in which the world flies by, I in it - enveloped by its surrounding. The speed of summer, its heat in July, our reluctance in accepting its upcoming end in August, the tell-tale chill of Fall in September.

Knowing this, what would you change now? What would I change?

Not a thing.

The pull of the mind, distracted by alternative motivations - perhaps preservation of self? - tugging us aside, off-track. The lull of the open space, its sweet intoxication - registering first as the absence of sound in the ears, travelling further inside, down the spiral, to land in a warm place of heart.

The beauty of everything, and nothing all together, intermixed, enriched naturally, and perfectly palatable.

Thank you for this.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Perch of the Wallflower

The buzz is stimulating, perhaps too much so. Their characteristics a smorgousboard of much and many - worth thousands of words combined; long minutes to the individual.

The scene is lively, bursting with energy - perhaps the buzz has them, too? A lady waters flowers, a small girl plays the sad card to her mother; older women chat their gossip about what intrigues their taste for drama as the older man group – regulars at the morning's weekday frenzy – disbands and goes about their day.

Outside, men discuss over plans of the physical sort, referring to different things with their hand gestures. With the onset of June comes a shift, perceivable and recognizable. Do you feel it?

A pregnant woman walks in – nothing unusual and yet there is a kinder regard for her, as if she holds something important.

Like a typical buzz, artificially induced or not, there reaches a point when you level-off and mellow-in. This is where the vibe is. The ladies pour on, leaning in to listen intently to what the others are saying – conveying real interest. The older man group, in a surprising shift of tides, grows instead of dwindling. When one leaves, the lazy Susan keeps rotating to reveal a new face to the group. Bikes with people on them come and go, as do dogs on leashes – some with their mouths tied close to prevent biting or chiding.

A blonde Jackie O comes in the door – complete with the lacy trimmed dress and stylistic Jackie O sunglasses. And on and on...this buzz will continue to climb and level, eventually reaching a climax for most, though the inevitable burst of late bloomers will hit at their premeditated rise to the top within the hours of the day they see fit. Perhaps this is getting on with what it all is: the freedom to choose.

Just maybe, possibly, this is the most intoxicating – even more than the buzz we imbibe, swallow, inhale, inject, snort, gurgle, lick, suckle, apply etc. And, do we know this?

Do the individual sums in the total understand their gravity in the mathematical arithmetic? Their butter in the cake batter, chip in the bingo game, or teeth in the cogged machine?

Do I even understand? I, the man alongside the outside boundary, reasonably comfortable in my perch; soaking up the refracted rays to photosynthesize these words – the words of a wallflower amidst the daises, dosies, floozies, flimbos, and snuffleupaguses. Of all shapes, though mostly white, like I. And perhaps that drives the nail home into the wood: this is a racially sterile environment, a greenhouse in which one can flourish – day after day.

Fortunately, when I was created, I was not confined to be bound to the pot of existence, yet exited the womb of life to walk upon legs. As I'm doing as soon as I finish this sentence.

See you in the sun,


Sunday, June 1, 2014


May 31st, go to bed - say a prayer to a higher power, thanking them for your life, your physical and mental capacities - your friends, your van, your family, and the fact that you do not have to work day after day to eat and live.

June 1st, wake up, appreciate something else...

Sit in the seat at the coffee shop, looking out through eyes of privilege at all that surrounds. Take in the morning sky, the beautifully bright blue of Colorado summer. Greet a friend and appreciate their smile, the care they show in the moment, despite the schedule of their day. Sip your tea, type on your keyboard - seek a deep breath, feel it fill your lungs, hold it...a bit more...let it out.

How do you feel?

The last 20 hours have felt like I've been floating. I perceive my body to be grounded, and yet my mind floats - attached through pendulous threads to what is below. Look down, then up quickly and see the world spin in mild disillusionment.

I cannot quite pinpoint the onset, the beginning of this spin-y floating. While belaying my dear friend Luke up a climb at Lemon Lake yesterday, I must have strained or hyper extended my neck whilst looking up at him and now mild vertigo is present when I turn too quickly in any direction. It feels as if my body responds to bring me back into balance, and that my head, my mind, instead, is caught in a spin - not quite in real time with what is going on for the rest of me.

This is what I perceive; maybe it is really part of the plan. And, I am grateful still. I feel trusting that this is part of what I am to experience - the unknown, the unknowing. To experience another lens in which to perceive the world, and in my perceptions foster patience for what is unfolding, minus judgement of myself and certainly others.

The wind it does blow: a gentle breath upon - the trees, us, every and any that will receive and acknowledge it. It feels true, I am motivated to write when I feel I have experienced the bug of gratefulness. And the what ifs: what if my life was continually like this - mild, peripheral spins when I turn too quickly, a sense of disillusionment from what I am, was used to. Then, I think I would feel thankful still for what I have: feet that walk underneath and with me, a mind that thinks and processes, and a heart the loves and beats within a rhythm of life's own flow.

June 1st, go to bed, ...

Thank you again and again. I love you and appreciate your care in my life.


Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Intiution, oh how I greet thee

Led to the spot, not by his own thought, but alas a voice, an utter, a whispering;
Trusting in space, without great haste, he enters the coincidental moment;
With Spring in the air, the love of life's share, he smiles, he appreciates the calling. 

 What can be said that already has not? Much to process, a bit at a time - no rush on this - boy, I feel grateful.
Spacey are his thoughts, in and amongst his grand jaunts - from mountains to plains and beyond.
There is, for me, this invisibly tangible string that pulls me along. No rail or line that I must follow, yet a free medium in which I can flow - any way, side-to-side, up and back. Indeed, grateful be thy name!

Fortuitous are my experiences when I am privileged to not work and instead roam a path I have put intentional thought into wandering. The people I meet, the reconnection with ones I know; all is in this grand suggestion of life and living less in an overarching plan of control and contrivance and more in the unknown!

Thank you for this, oh Life and its Creators. I, too, am indebted with a running tab being paid in moments of opportunities, here and today.


Friday, April 11, 2014

How to Make Love Stay...

"When the mystery of the connection goes, love goes. It's that simple. This suggests that it isn't love that is so important to us but the mystery itself. The love connection may be merely a device to put us in contact with the mystery, and we long for love to last so that the ecstasy of being near the mystery will last. It is contrary to the nature of mystery to stand still. Yet it's always there, somewhere, a world on the other side of the mirror, a promise in the next pair of eyes that smile at us. We glimpse it when we stand still.
The romance of new love, the romance of solitude, the romance of objecthood, the romance of ancient pyramids and distant stars are means of making contact with the mystery. When it comes to perpetuating it, however, I got no advice. But I can and will remind you of two of the most important facts I know: 
1.) Everything is part of it.
2.) It's never too late to have a happy childhood."

-Tom Robbins, Still Life with Woodpecker