Nestling

Just outside of our bedroom window, there is a small hole into the roof of our house. Each spring it has been home to baby birds. We listen to them chirp like crazy when their mother comes in to feed them. 

This morning, when we let the dogs out, there was a little nestling crying a fearful chirp on our patio. The thought of leaving her there to fend off neighborhood cats, or even the reality of abandonment in the heat of the day crushed me. I gently picked her up in a cloth napkin, her fuzzy almost feathers rustling in the early morning breeze and her sunshine yellow beak yawned open hoping for momma's food.

Funny where love can happen.

Eric dragged a stool to the spot where she must have fallen from her nest, and stood, reaching to coax her back into the roof with her siblings. We feared touching her directly and used a wooden spoon to nudge her toward the opening. For many tries, she did not move, the trauma keeping her still.

My mind spun, thinking of what we would do if she could not make it in.
But then,
her tiny foot grasped a wire and she pulled herself in. I lay back in bed holding my breath as I looked out the window, hoping we hadn't disrupted anything beyond repair. A few minutes later, momma alit on a wire outside the nest, a worm in her mouth and in she went.

I breathed again.

People

I'm one of those people. the ones that talk,

reach,

send,

give,

create for
others.

I love other people.

I love their uniqueness

the texture and result of their choices

their voices

what they have to say.

Sometimes, when what they have to say differs

dramatically

from what I have to say...

well, that can be a challenge to appreciate

but in truth -- i do.

People fascinate me.

I love that each factor of our lives,

each choice,

each turn around a different bend

each surprise

each new moment

of

each

new

day creates a new pattern

an altered hue

a change.

I love reaching, and experiencing people.

I can discuss it in a way that makes me sound

altruistic and

painfully generous.

I can do that. Yet, in truth

I wonder if that is indeed the truth.

Not

altogether
I

am

sure.

For reaching and touching and connecting and giving and considering and loving and knowing and talking to and hoping for

others

does a couple of things for me.

One, it enriches me. It provides for me

new texture new shadows new sounds and music new things to consider

new ways to approach.

my.

life.

I love that. More than anything I believe.

People.

weird, sexy, wild, courageous, fearful, learning, wondering, judging, waiting, trembling, heart-filled, musical, conservative, cutting-edge, loving

people.

It does another thing for me as well. The darker side of all of this

people

other

than

me

focused

living.

It keeps me from the silence.

that is solely and completely inside my being
with
no
other
sound
but
my
own.

I know that I can live my life without really being all that concerned with that fact.

But there is a part of me that knows

that spending time in

this place is part of the next....

deeper....

wiser....

experience for me.

for all of us.

Being completely alone for me is not an exercise is fear -- as it is for some.

It is an undertaking of courage.

It is in the silence of me

that my spirit pauses and my mind

trembles.

Certainly my mind.

My mind loves to be busy... reaching, giving, considering, solving. But to send my mind to the still, quiet waters of my own being? With nothing to distract? Well..... you're asking
quite
a
lot.
So, I look at the yin and the yang, the up and the down, the soft and the hard, the you and the me of my life. and when I do
I long
to know
both.
To embrace the texture and the sound and the noise and the problems and the solutions and the music and the dance and the interaction of
others.
And, entwined with the patterns that live outside of the edges of my own mind
to know intimately.... my own, still silence.
Where i suspect
joys
and
secrets
reside.

Drop

in my life

i trust

that

the ongoing

gift.

the waterfall

of

friends

will continue.

drop.

by.

drop.

i trust

that

life

will honor

my request

for the next person

who will

open

my

eyes

and

bring joy

to my mind.

More colors

to the palate

of my experience.

thank you for being

a reminder.

and a new drop

of

color.

Heavy

I have a hard time when people don't love me.

It hurts when people don't want me

around them

in their lives.

I have a friend... Well, I had a friend.

Over some time, she was collecting complaints. Valid, I am certain.

She did not express them.

She did not choose

to have a hard conversation

with

me.

Instead, her complaints got very heavy.

Too heavy, too dense, too dark.

The bag that she kept them in became very heavy

and she couldn't see me any more.

Or, the me she saw through heavy, complaint laden eyes

didn't look like someone she wanted to be friends with anymore.

I have tried to open the door,

to say I'm sorry,

to own my actions and choices,

to ask forgiveness.

No.

Done.

Over.

It is a hard choice for me to understand.

Yet, it is her choice.

And because it is hard for me

I know that

there is much for me to learn.

That my worth is not tied to another's perception of me.

Stone

Time is beginning to stretch a bit, as I feel myself reaching

with one leg

from one stone to another, suspended above moving water.

Tempted to feel fear as I prepare to

change

again.

I have been on this stone for a little while

I remember when I first stepped on it.

All was new

and unknown

my mind a wide-eyed infant in a new place.

Learning to be me far away from my loves.

I have just a little bit longer on it.

To cherish those whom I have come to love.

To enjoy that which I have come to desire.

Friends

"Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies. ~ Aristotle

What exists between you and me
is the only thing like that
that exists
in all of creation.
There is the thing that is you
and the thing that is me

and there is then
the thing that exists between
made of the stuff of you and
the stuff of me.

like paints mixing on a palette
like lemon juice mixed into sugar water
like salt and pepper in a bowl together
like harmonies

forever entwined
having become something all it's own

between us.
It could and can and will
never
exist anywhere
between any other someones
ever
again.

What exists between you and me, friend,
is a thing

a living, breathing, dancing, speaking, loving, laughing, learning, being
something.

When we became friends, you and I,
life breathed into that brand new something

like air into a balloon

and it began to                             float

          and dance on the breeze

and bounce on the ground              along          a     path        in    Central    Park

and hide behind
                             cars

and tie to the branch of a high, high tree.

It became a something
that will always be.

Change has happened.

Change has happened.

That's almost funny to express. As...
When does change not happen?

Every moment in every place from Utah to the farthest reaches of the least known universe

Change is happening
now
always

without cease.


Change has happened in me.
In my world.
Change that challenges my deepest resistances.
My oldest fears.
My weakest link.
My most tender place.
Change, again, has come
to remind me that it always will.

It is not change that you can see
from where you are.
From where you sit, you see nothing different.
My body, my home, my family, my work.  Same.

Except
change has happened.
It's not change that I will explain
or describe
or divulge

but change indeed has come
in a dose that has raised my hackles and demands my attention and requires that I stand up and take notice of just what I had failed to see.

Change has happened.

Stephen Hawking said, "Intelligence is the ability to adapt to change."
Isn't it though.
Whether that change is the loss of the musculature, or the loss of a parent, or the end of an education, or the corruption of something trusted, or the leaving of a place, or the end of a faith.

It is the ability to face what is so
and build
rather than sink

to create
rather than be blinded

to observe
rather than be victimized.


Intelligence.  No one said it would be easy.


Change has happened

and I sometimes question my own intelligence.
One moment
brilliance and light.
The next
abject ignorance and the temper tantrum of a wild, flailing child in the darkness.

Change begins the very moment any thing comes into existence,
you see.
Even the things you stand on now, with the confidence of Caesar.
You raise your hands and expose your heart knowing that those things are yours, beyond any threat,
and always will be.
As you stamp your foot on the solidity of your

love
family
money
house
friends
job
health
expectations of others
faith
joy
stories

the cracks of change have begun.

Change has happened.

Exists.

Gonna try to hold my breath this week

and let the sand settle to the ground.

But just want you to know, that 

just like you, just like you can,

I can feel the most foundational feelings.

and that makes me feel better.

because no matter what.... you can't hide that from me.

No matter what words are used

and ideas are presented

and rules are garnered

and limits are set

what exists, exists, exists, exists.

Thank goodness.

Cuz' that will give me the courage

to 

wait,

and love you for where you are

and what you need

and who you love

right now.

forever

is bigger than

this.

Here's to you and 

all you hold dear.

Now.

and forever.

Forever.

Love.

How can something be so perfect and so big and so amazing
and
so painful and so lonely and so frustrating
yet
so wonderful and so needed and so everything
but
so hurtful and so misunderstood and so heartbreaking
?

Love.

How can something seem so permanent and so forever
and yet
be yanked away and leave a hole the size of Texas
but still
leave an imprint on top of the emptiness
that lets you
know that
the love really can't go anywhere?

Love.
It's forever.
Joy. Pain. Breath. Angst. Depth. More. Questions. Confusion. Precious Everything.

I
will
love
you
forever.

Love.

Let Me be Your Teacher, Girl.

Let me be your teacher, girl.

The pain of that which no longer is
is pain indeed.
It is painted with the blood of life and
experience.
It is submerged and soaked in the
love and intensity of the intoxicating dance
that brought you to this very point.


Let me be your teacher, girl.

Know that you are ok.
As the Seuss says,
"Don't be sad that it's over; smile because it happened."
And truly, my princess
it is never really over.
anything.
The energy that was, is and ever will be.
Once the brush has put it's stroke on the canvas, it will
always be there.


Let me be your teacher, girl.

The hole that you feel each time
another precious something
sinks into behind you,
it is not a hole at all.
It is simply the feeling of the tides
pouring out.
Allow the tide to be whatever it will be,
my, flower, and trust that when the
goodness fills again,
Joy will soothe you.

Let me be your teacher, girl.

Vast

Right now it just feels like the sound of my own voice screaming inside my head.

Hear me!
See me!
Let me out!

I want to feel the love I know is possible.

I want to express the exactness of what is inside of me in every way there is, creating a bridge from the inside of me to everyone else and there will be no not understanding. No translation necessary.


I want my words to matter
and yet
I know they do and they don't all at the same time.
There are millions of voices.
They have things to say, expressing their own inner understanding and turmoil and hatred and fear and discovery and wonder and trapped-ness.

Does everyone feel this way?
That there is this wholeness confined within the walls of who they are, and as hard as they try, they cannot share it completely.
It's like there is this vastness of wordless

color,
form,
light,
clarity

and there is really no way to share it.
I wonder if we all feel that way and we're looking for the bridge to one another in the wrong place.

I do.

I don't have room.

But see, I want to love you.
I love you.
I do.
But I don' t have room in my

mind
my
thoughts
my
home
my
life.

See.... I love you.
I do.
Really.
and I want to love you

I want to want you and love you and need you and consume you
but I don't have room
for you.
Except when I do.
Which is not
now.
But is sometimes.

I want to have you there
just where I want you
within reach
just within
the span of my touch.
But
I don't have room for you
today.
I have too many things filling up the room
in my
life
mind
thoughts
days
minutes
moments
and there is no room
for you
when you want there to be.

But I love you,
you see.

I do.

What matters?

What matters?
Me?
My thoughts?
Yours?
Everyones?

What matters?
Inventions?
Evolution?
Change?
Stuff?

What matters?
Mystery?
Things we name but cannot know?
Wonder?
Silence?

What matters?
Story?
Explanation?
Intuition?
Words?

What matters?
Things we think we know?
Experiences we have had?
Knowing others are experiencing things?

What matters?
Sharing?
Giving?
Creating?
Thinking?
Being?

What matters?

Birth. Death. Birth. Death.

Life

So beautiful
Surrounded by love and warmth and the sounds of life.
Always cared for
in my home.
My beautiful home.
I was exactly where I was intended to be.
So grateful and at peace.

Then.

There was pain
tumult.
confusion
uncertainty
fear

Violent push and pull.

All I had worked for
and been.
Everything I had known.
The only life I'd known.

Being torn apart
ripped from me.
Forces beyond my control
harshly carrying me
to a place I had never been.

So
Scared.

dying. dying. dying. dying.

The violence subsided.
The chaos became still.
I was somewhere new.
Different altogether.

I never could have imagined what it would be like.
I didn't need to be scared at all.

Exactly where I was intended to be.

Noise

Big world
so much happening
media inundation
unrealistic expectation
noise abounds

voices
yelling
traffic
guns
media

the pressure to be
something
anything
other than.

disappointment in exactly what we are.

I have bumps and lumps and aches and questions and anxieties and a car that needs new brakes and dog hair on my couch and a green pepper that has died a slow and painful death in my crisper and projects not completed and boxes in my garage not traversed in years and weeds peppering my garden and doubts about my faith and friends I haven't talked to in too long.

Not knowing that
the only thing
worth listening to
resides in a still
small
voice which can only be heard
when
we are quiet
surrounded by the knowledge that it is there.

Knowledge that the small place
isn't small at all
but is simply the everything
the source
the space and mystery and pulse of all that is and ever was
which
sits not only
everywhere

but also in you.

today, tomorrow

If I were to die
today
tomorrow

would you still feel me
where i was?

would the imprint
of me
last
for
awhile?

If I were to die
today
tomorrow

What would you remember about me?

That I was

smart
talkative
obnoxious
creative
opinionated
pretty
fat
talented
lazy
inspiring
happy
pushy
thoughtful
needy
surprising
underachieving
cool
loving
connected
?

If I were to die
today
tomorrow

would
the scent of my perfume linger?

the sound of my voice permeate the silence of my absence?

the shape of my face appear in your mind?



would

my words
continue to
make
a
difference

if I were to die


?

Just Close Enough

Just close enough to the heat
Just close enough to the pain
Just close enough to the pink red orange blue every color there is
dancing
between you
like lightning laced with sweet sorrow
and delight

Just close enough to hear your questions
Just close enough to feel your want and anger and joy and
tears
the feeling is so real,
full of the everything and of the anger, the adoration of someone else's humanity
and arrogance
and love
and thoughtlessness
and want
and perfection

Just close enough to see into the tunnel
cave
chasm
endless meadow of flowers of every color
Just close enough to know that what is there
is something
special
something dangerous

something real

Just close enough to know that no matter what happens
No matter how long it lasts
No matter how far you remain
the thing you fear and the thing you long for and question and want and run from
die for
has already happened.

Why Girlfriends are Important.

Woman:  Hey, let's talk. Let's hang out till the night becomes morning, tell each other our stories, our histories. We can try to figure our why we are the way we are and sit for hours just saying everything that comes into our heads, teasing out our fears and our anxieties and then coming up with ways to become our best selves. Let's talk about what we like about ourselves and what we don't. Let's trust in one another our deepest thoughts, telling each other what we love about the other and let's just revel in what the other has to say.  Let's do that, over and over and over, ok?

Man:  No.

Missing the Point

Sitting in the sun, feeling the yellow warm my freckled skin.

Right, but do you love me?



Eating a meal that teases my tingling tastes and delights me.

Well, that's all good, but do you love me?



Sitting on the bow of a boat, racing across deep blue wakes, wind whipping through my hair.

All good and everything, but... really... do you love me?



Laughing with a friend until my guts feel like they might bust.

Yep, that's super. I get it.  I have a question though.  Do you love me?



An hour in a hammock, reading a book that has me disappear into lands unknown.

Nice, truly.  I really dug that, I did.  Yet, do you love me?




Walking through the door to a burst of joyful "surprise!!!" and faces I adore.

Oh man, that was cool.  I'm not clear on something though.  Do you love me?




A walk through an art museum, intoxicated by the truth of others.

Nothing better, really.  I have a question though.  Do you love me?




Spending time with a friend, sharing, having real conversation, touching one another deeply.

Mmm. Yeah.... I see what you're saying. I hear you, I do. It's just....






Do you love me?

The Way I Want You To

I struggle.  angry. angsty because you don't do things
the way that I want you to.
You don't react to what I say or what I do or how I am
the way I want you to.

I get pissed off because in my mind, your words don't match your actions.
And mine is really the only version of life that matters, you see.
And so, therefore, I want you to act
the way I want you to.

Can't you see that I have an agenda
to create moments that have slipped into yesterday?
It's an important
undertaking.
And see, you are a character in my play, and it's important for me,
in order to experience life in my own particular desired way,

that you act

the way I want you to.


Listen, I can't imagine that you might have
a different way of seeing

or being
or thinking
or wanting
or loving
or needing
or growing
or expecting

than I do.  I'm sure that you want exactly what I do, exactly when I do.

See.

And that's why I want you to do things
exactly

the way I want you to.