Poetry/Prose

Great Glass Walls

Image credit: Mine, Beijing 2010

Image credit: Mine, Beijing 2010

Dear Anonymous,

I tried to write a note to you today but when I was about to send it, I thought of all the synapses that would fire in your brain and cause you to respond in the way that you would, because you think the things that you naturally do.

And I wondered in that moment, how many people I have loved had wanted to write to me but couldn’t because they knew the same …

… that some strange volition within me would take the purity of their words and feed an ego that just couldn’t know better at that time.

How many?

I wanted to tell you so many details. Things that would get lost on the way to your deeper wisdom. I have tried this before. I know. They will.

So now I will send you nothing at all–something more pure than the ego can touch. Something so subtle it overwhelms the world. Something that will never be said but somehow be known until the moment before we die or almost do–what is real, what is true.

There is no me. And there is no you.

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Poetry/Prose

Now, Decide

photo credit: mine

photo credit: mine

Right now is a live wire.

You may think only something (maybe boring, maybe not, but limited by what you are exposed to) is happening.

When really everything is, now.

From the outside to sit still may seem pointless–but it is in doing this that we boil ourselves down to nothing and feel everything at once.

A massive speck, sitting there.

You might be in a little room with just yourself yet you know a whale is traversing the sea, a baby is being born, someone is digging through garbage, a businessman is clinking a glass over a million-dollar deal and you sit there and just know.

And on and on and on.

It’s electric, and you have so many options, how to perceive, right now.

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Poetry/Prose

You Would Have Been Lions

photo credit: mine

photo credit: mine


Cubs

What can I say?

When I can’t lick you

I know

You would have been lions

My mind is part of nature herself

All twisted and dressed

In cement

And male ambition

My mind is part of that nature too

And it got made up

Still, I want to lick you

Cubs

Both of you

You are still here

You would have been here

You will be here

And yet

You would have been lions

Cubs

Everywhere

Every moment

Every chance

I think of you

You are still here

You would have been here

You will be here

And when you are

I will never let you out of my life

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Poetry/Prose

Only Natural

Rural Nepal, 2012

Rural Nepal, 2012

Ask yourself

What is natural?

Walk into the forest

Of your sensibilities

Buzzing with life

Action

Reaction

Stillness

Disguises

Realities

Is it poisonous?

Or is it a mimic?

Nature

Mind blowing

Sit there

Go into your nature

Walk slow

Feel the bottom of your feet

Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss

The Earth

Holding you up

Infusing all of you

Always

Ask yourself

What is natural?

When you are walking through doors

Sitting at desks

Driving your car

Fantasizing

Talking on the phone

Imagining

Neurotic about social media

Worrying

Crying about a memory

Pining about the future

Pumped on inspiration

Choosing to be bored

Is it natural?

Is it?

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Art, Music/Book Reviews, Poetry/Prose

Start Again

Whatever it is. Whatever it was. It’s gone.

No pact or promise can hold it in place.

Not because you don’t deserve it, but because it’s always changing.

Appreciate it and let it go.

It will surely fly back to you if it wants to do–or into the sky, carrying a part of you to timeless heaven.

Eternally impressed–its memory will shift around your actions and change their meaning every day.

The minds-eye mirrorball–shifting light of reason as the hours, days, years, lifetimes pass.

We live in so many dimensions.

Let go and see it.

Let go and live into your next one.

Every day.

Look in the mirror first.

Say it to yourself first.

Start again.

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Art, Poetry/Prose

Expats

Screen Shot 2015-02-15 at 6.31.56 AM
You can’t be homesick

Without a home

In unison

The guy hiding

All his funny feelings

Behind those shades

Dropped the beat

In the mouths

Of our silent screams

To the winking sunset

Bowing its head

As the sky shook hands

Over and over and over

With the rolling sea

We are not orphans

Except to the outsider

And we are not outsiders

Anymore

In fact we relish

(Not the kind on a hotdog)

Being adrift

(Not the kind that’s worried)

Never quite comfortable

To call a place home

Somewhere

Is everywhere

And you just can’t be homesick

Without a home

Nobody says goodbye

To everywhere

Unless it’s somewhere

And then we ask:

Who needs it?!

You can’t be homesick

Without a home

Really

Who needs it

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Poetry/Prose, Yoga & Spiritual

Mr. Mister

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Photo/art credit–Desicomments.com

When I first became an expat I said:

Everything has changed, but I am the same

Days passed into months, months into years

Conversations into contentment into disillusionment into strategy into deeper surrender

Again and again, a drum, guaranteed

Same blood through the same heart, beating

Keeping time when I forget my watch, or throw it in the toilet

Different faces, different cultures, different priorities, luring me through a looking glass

To be born into a world

Where the masks all drop and love is always mine

Hands in pockets, eyes to the moon, now reflecting

Will I see you again?

Like I did the first time, when you were someone different?

More than anyone else?

Detachment–hundreds of feet in the sky, where your can see, so many things

Round and round, that race … like gnats in a jar

Looking at each other–seeing themselves

Was I doing that?

I wonder what scorpions eat …

Everything is the same

But I have changed

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