Aug 26 2010

due north

There is something about this day that keeps calling me outside.

I have been in and out all morning, inside working, then, feeling this magnetic pull, back out.

A cup of tea, some photos, playing with the crazy kittens that spend their days outside, hunting. Back in for more work. Accomplishing what must be accomplished. And when that is done, the must-do part of my day, I shall start on the should-do portion. Should pull these weeds, should paint that door, should make more jewelry, should do paperwork, or laundry, or vacuum, or dust. I don’t know where to start, which direction to point my feet in.

Except, there must be something to this, this not knowing where I’m going, this walking along a path with no a compass, because I am not afraid. Not lost.

Just here, navigating my way by feel and instinct and some inner sense of who I am, or want to be.

Just here, witnessing each day as it unfolds before me, not judging or wishing for a better one. Not dreaming or pretending or lamenting a life I do not have. But living this one. Sitting in my garden in the room I have built from flowers and earth and sky.

A giant room in my tiny world. I can see everything from here.

Just here.

It took me such a long time to arrive. I stumbled a lot and ran in circles and backtracked and trudged through rain and desert, wind and forest, sun and swamp. You can’t follow in my footsteps, even I can’t retrace them, couldn’t tell you where I started, or when I turned left rather than right, or even who I was on the day this journey began. I walked at night by the light of the moon, sometimes, and often, I walked all day. I trusted my heart to guide my feet. I carried my fear in a pack on my back, always behind me.

I am just here.

With this feeling that my entire life led me to this exact place and this feeling that it really was all for a reason and this feeling that I am about to be somewhere else.

Just like every other day, I suppose.

Just here.

Jun 30 2010

spoonful of sugar

An afternoon that swallows time. Even when I beg, there is
no more. Deadlines and desideritas, my life.

I take myself too seriously. Ponder things that can’t be solved. Worship silence and sanctuary when there is none. Too many moments pass while I stare out my window.

A garden that grows without me. A tale that was not true.
A mystery that has no answer. My life.

A series of situations. A corner that keeps my secrets. A broom
that sweeps almost nothing clean. My life.

Some days overwhelm me. Some days wait to be taken.
Some days sing songs that only I can hear. Some days I sit on
the floor and weep. This is not my imagination.

A forest that leaves light unspoken. A tree that whispers platitudes. A fern that grows in shadow. My life.

A sunbeam filled with dancers. A teardrop left unclaimed.
A glimpse of mediocrity. My life.

Dreams that claim my sleep the way lovers claim their hearts.
Things I cannot have lined up before me. Things I do not want
stand next in line.

A comfort that eludes me. A melody of words that have no tune.
A signature I do not recognize. My life.

A smile on my lips, of strawberries and wine.

A summer day that does not end.

I stand here, waiting.