‘Slowly Melting Snowy Vistas’

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An idea,

a visual reminder

to help find footing

rather than wallow

in what might feel lost,

our lives precious,

imagine only

nature is a cycle

eternal while forever.

 

Once while in wonder

reminded by favor

a slow descent in time

while all around

lives experience

a monotony of time

wishing purpose

witness a warming

allows our lives

to know change

always a measure

the melting horizon

might we seek

a cleansing challenge.

 

When the dial

shall evolve

daylight turns to

a mysterious shroud

where our eyes

opaque shadows

awaits our return

only to discover

with the rising sun

earth has begun

a new journey

again, spectacular

beyond occasion

this is our next day,

a blossoming spring.

 

Purposeful vistas

do slip away,

only to offer

sweet reminders

how along the way

our lives interact

in as magical way

might the landscape

of this mortality

give reason we

can know

the familiar

as well

as confusion

in a continuum

we have not

lost our way.

 

 

When Yesterday

When we start to think about

our yesterdays,

we get scared, well some, me, suppose

the words need only be self-directed,

if validity

is the goal of my game.

 

I contemplate my day before notions,

those of consequence and reward,

I try to recall the best, when especially drawn

into the abyss of the mess.

 

A hundred years ago, my embellishment

landed me in places I couldn’t defend,

only wished I had found a way to mend

the indifference,

self-righteous patterns of wanting everything,

my way, my game, my gamble, my favorite

addiction.

 

I lost at every step, remembering when leaving

fearing skid row might be my home address

in six weeks or less,

less the confidence, less the support,

lest I drag my ass out of the gutter and realize

there is a life ahead.

 

However, there is always the readiness,

not choice by personal desire,

but the savior whomever that might be in our lives,

the one and only,

Grace,

the epitome of letting go,

realizing we cannot, and will never need to do this on our own,

alone.

 

Yet today, I do think about my yesterdays,

and wonder if I might ever step away,

to enjoy the beauty of this,

namaste.

 

Lost Generation

In Shadows

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Where my reality lives, I sometimes never know,

depends upon the breathing,

a slight rasp might mean finding an edge,

a smooth inhale is the sign of reaching an end.

I do know though,

when I glance to my side,

in a sunlit morning, I can see myself,

that part of me no one might ever understand,

yet it contains me,

all of me beyond the physical attributes,

that sometime do define who I am.

 

I like to hide from him,

as much as possible because the possibilities are endless

when I go about thinking all the mistakes he contains,

when the brilliance of my mind let’s loose,

and there is no where to turn except to jump in,

wait it out until sunset, at least then I might disappear.

 

I wish there might be the occasion when in a fleeting moment of forgetfulness,

he could gesture an implied consent,

a suggestive attribute of worthiness,

yet instead,

he lingers, waiting, watching, knowing,

what it is I might be wondering.

 

* photo found on Pinterest

Waking Without The News

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I awoke this morning with a certain calm,

the quiet heartbeat of my dog nearby,

the sun just beginning to radiate the room,

life seemed a slow melodic sort of tune.

 

Oh, there are certain ideals on my mind

that weigh heavily to be understood

yet for that moment, that initial lull

I could appreciate the sound of life alone.

 

Nowhere shouted the proclamatory pundits

wreaking havoc upon my state of mind

while millions of others like me would stir

to begin our daily frenzy of not knowing where.

 

I wonder sometime if it is that simple

to allow ourselves to breathe rather than

respond to the horrific mongering, albeit

I woke up today without the news.

 

* Photo found on Pinterest

I Turned Off The News

 

Yesterday, I made a conscious decision to turn off the news. Having watched the now ‘idle’ banter of prognosticators and candidates for the last year, the outcome in hand, I wasn’t excited about hearing any theory, any ‘told you so’ antics, or any patronage from the winning side of an ugly defeat. I told all my classes I was only going to listen to whales singing in the ocean in some New Age melody all week while I gathered my thoughts and wrapped my head around this bizarre political future of our country.

The night did not allow me to completely escape my thoughts though, and the sounds of our immensely serene mammals in the deep blue didn’t contain me as long as I’d hoped. I still felt this urgency to know, to wonder, to speculate just how we had come to the conclusion we had as a voting nation. That answer still evades me this morning; however, what I did see was the peaceful protests throughout the country with our new candidate. The protests hearkened me back to a different time in my life.

I remember in the  60’s seeing pictures of the Vietnam war protests. In a child’s eyes, these were real, these were pleading students and family and friends and co-workers all banding together to make a statement, the riots that would follow later with the civil rights protests, the ever changing climate of our nation. I recall watching all of this through the eyes of my older siblings. To me, these were powerful statements of change and I was a fortunate witness to democracy at its finest – freedom of speech, the right to protest, the right to have a valued opinion. Certainly with that came tragedy, the loss of remarkable leaders from Malcolm X to MLK Jr, to RFK, to so many more names that are part of that tumultuous history. I remember Kent State and wondering how it was, as a ten year old, that our nation could be so angry within our own borders, while thousands were dying in a fruitless war across the world.

We had no advantage of social media to give us instant results. We counted upon Walter Cronkite, ‘and that’s the way it is’ and followed with tears the scroll of lost names in Vietnam on that day, that was the immediacy of our connection to the world around us. The silent protest in our minds became the visible chants outside the White House gates as the protesters ramped up the pressure on LBJ to get our boys out of Vietnam – “Hey Hey LBJ, How many kids did you kill today?” followed years later by Richard Nixon and the ‘tricky dick’ accusations of secrecy and fraud that destroyed his presidency. Back then people were vocal, and as a kid, I watched as it seemed there were good reasons to fight for what we all believed was right.

In that different time, when race and equality were still on the mind of everyone, people began to fight together, and I watched secular groups like the KKK become less severe and threatening as our nation could recognize a holistic approach to life. In the 70’s books were written about ‘The Melting Pot’ a nation burgeoning with immigration becoming one, learning to live with one another and respect each other. Racism and prejudice still existed, but there was this seeming progression, this appearance of ‘love and respect’ that started to gain footing on so many levels. With the onset of so many different cultural mores we began to see a change in the landscape of our society.

The idea of ‘The Melting Pot’ has evolved today into more of a ‘mosaic’ as we gradually become aware of the value of culture, the beauty and elegance that each person in the frame of their own unique heritage brings to our American canvas. We have tried to take the time to appreciate those differences rather than destroy their integrity while lost in our own self-driven egocentric ideals. As a child I was motivated by a naive innocence to appreciate those pieces of our life that I could witness growing up. I wonder about the children of today, and how their exposure has perhaps changed, impacted, or effected their own perception of a modern, electronically driven society around them.

I wonder about the news, and what it is the media will find important as we now walk beyond the unprecedented electoral process that has for some turned their world upside down, and for others provided a voice of indiscriminate reaction that though maybe quieted in years past with active reasoning, today is suddenly harsh and overt and frightening. We live in a democratic society, so there can be no argument to suggest one person’s right to opinion ought be considered better than another’s; however, there is an element of respect and integrity that right now seems surely to hang in the balance.

So, as I observe our new style of protest in American society, just beyond a full day of electing a controversial candidate to the POTUS, I wonder about purpose, timing and decorum. Is protesting today that valuable in a time when we have already made a decision we cannot turn back on? For some, certainly that is the motivation for hitting the concrete, but for others I wonder if we have newer challenges ahead that can capture or channel our idealism. A friend of mine recently posted there is no more time for tolerance through the ideals of love and compassion, in his words, we need to ‘stand up RIGHT now.” I cannot argue with his passion, but I still do wonder about timing.

Perhaps our protest begins in six months, then we have seen a pattern to create a need for public awareness and change. Perhaps today we need to pay closer attention to the immediacy of our national decision, and recognize the hurt, the elation, the brusque reality of our choices demand a closer eye than simply arousing a formulated statement of disagreement.

Perhaps we do still count on ourselves as being the change we desire in the world around us. Ask a friend, see if they and another, and a friend of their own, a family member, a co-worker might join each other and together determine a time, quite likely in the near future to make a stronger more relevant statement, together.

Perhaps we might leave the news off for a few more days, and pay attention to our immediate surroundings.

All The Wants

If time could pause only to return

fond memory, the happy place

If all we needed to discern

of life at an even pace,

would our hearts be able to align

with a natural embrace, a certain peace

of mind, the sort might love be mine.

I once knew where in my soul some pain

could resonate with my state of being,

I once cried out loud to feel less plain,

to know a spiritual reckoning

could be a valid reason to somehow believe

our lives did matter that time together.

I wonder if we might know how to weave

a certain pattern, a telling notion whether

this was ever meant to be surely real,

or were we pawns in a greater scheme.

I do recall the love you gave to be surreal,

often a distant dance in distal dream.

Often when in the quiet of my own reflection,

I wish your eyes staring towards our passion.

Circles

When last we spoke,

I mentioned how long it had been,

since we could recall ourselves,

we had distance in our eyes,

the lines of time, the paths of freedom,

we traversed hours in search of how we knew

our lives were meant to be.

When your eyes said hello,

after the minute or two of

indecision,

we knew that time was less relative

than it was real for the moment.

At least I had hoped you might believe me,

but I gave you no reason to imagine

we could be the same again.

I remember looking around the room,

and seeing familiar faces, eyes, smiles,

hands grasping their only world for the moment,

I do recall seeing

hesitation,

wondered whether grace would ever be allowed

in conversations again.

I recall being here before,

wondering if I might ever understand,

why this place would always be familiar.

I wandered away that day, just hoping somehow,

we might see this day again, but I didn’t know when …

that might be when I decided to retrace my …

I might have realized then,

I was hoping again to find you in my dreams.