all power to the people

I feel like I need to write a handful of apology letters. Letters describing my absence and the reasons behind it, but in sympathetic terms, in the terms that make connections possible again. 

I could write to someone and say... you must understand the overwhelming circumstances I have found myself in, between raging storms and hard rocks,  poison and pointed blades... none of my choosing, all of my choosing.

But the truth is so simple, it takes more energy than I care to purpose in your direction and at the end of the day I'd rather flirt with what can never be than tease you, leave you, tethered and trailing behind wondering how often I can turn around to catch up on what is between us. 

Bitter

searing

I am attached to all the wrong energies and celebrate the wrong occasions. 

I wish people would move on from me so I could care and complain and never have to deal with the reality that maybe I couldn't care effectively enough to support our relationship.

seclusion

I find myself turning down invitations.

Not all, but some significant

and I am grasping for what that means in the now expanded time alone,

I've been reading more, it makes me feel intelligent, growing,

more relaxed and mindful.  I sneak away from conversations to do it.

I return to conversations with questions, with purpose, with compassion.

Not always, there is a certain amount of intentional distance,  an unmeasured amount, a balancing act in play.  The solitude produces guilt.  Its the same guilt that comes up in the neglect of my chores.  Its the passive aggressive resistance, the immaturity of not being able to act in accordance with my own desires, because I am still trying to name them, dissect them, re-imagine them, negotiate them.

I finished a book today that was exciting, surprisingly playful for such a dark topic (the financial collapse) and it made me want to make stories out of dull reality. Draw caricatures from the complex but infuse the drawing with enough life to inspire a deeper look.  

I started another book (Freedom North) and it was dense and tangled, and it made me stop reading after 22 pages, but I was also aggravated because I felt left out from the topic, not by the book but by society.  Like where had these dense tangles been before?  Why was it I was only hearing of these instances now (when of course they had been here the whole time) and who were the gatekeepers to this knowledge?

I find myself feisty with desire, energy, readiness to engage  and yet  I seclude at every opportunity... every instance where it could be too real.  I think I am waiting to be rescued.

Victoria described the visual she had of a lock clicking into place when I described a recent dream I had had to her.

I think I am waiting for the click.

My boss recently shared this song in our music class.
She likes to listen to it to pump her up for running.

I wrote this at school one day, the exercise was to write to the music we were listening to

1) 

What a day

you seen my laugh yet

was it the real one

laughing's contagious

maybe I was spreading the

symptoms

like a flea would

a hop and bite

not even aware the world is

suffering, stomach aches

from chuckling

like being tickled, out of your control

2)

lost in the jungle

too many dangerous things stalking

-so we wear our smile like armor

-a veil of protection

the red cheeks, lips

and 

gums like the marking on a

black widow

a warning of poison within

3) 

keep a distance

inside are meadows, pleasant normally

but today fraught with 

rushing, expanded

river, flash flooded fields

swamped, uncaring

it all flows somewhere

4) 

pulsing, punches

smashing

these are walls

being called upon

forcefully,

-not impenetrable 

every structure

vibrates

specifically

smashing 

destructive

force of 

mathematics

smashing

where will the blocks 

fall

-ramparts

gravit-ivised

-set a float

smashing 

what

5)

from the pulverized

ashes of what was

sprouts

reverse lightning

life renews through

what has been

6) 

flower stage,

sex seeking

carnival, square dance

a new mate

tried on for fitting

matches make new life.

10.18.11
When I was young
like a little kid
I got electrocuted
in a grocery store
it was worrisome

I think then
my notion of security
was torn out from under
and my illusions of the right reaction
inconclusive

maybe it was from then on
that I started to
deliberate about
everything

cuz in the moment
when you should be
letting go
you hold tighter
frozen

Everything in you
lets you know
you are dying
and your stuck there
uncontrollable

but instead of
releasing fears and worries
irritations, and possibilities
a child becomes more
mindful

like when all the experiments
religions and sciences
philosophies etc
say "stay in the now"
you just cant

like when you're frozen
stuck to a railing
pumping volts passing through you
frying your wiring
killing you quickly
but still stuck wondering
about possibilities

2101

"He don't stay out anymore, No more coming in past four, Most nights he turns in 'round ten, He's way too tired to pretend, Sure, you might find him up at three, But if he is it's just to pee, Sometimes he's awake 'till two, But that's just 'cause he's missing you, He's lying there and missing you"

I have been reading about attachment.  
Its hard not to get attached,  for instance I just read this really beautiful statement of love and affection written by a 26 year old to her best friend of 14 years on missed connections on craigslist. She described walking away as choosing to let an elephant sit on her.
Hard not to get attached.

Today at work, may have been the most chaotic, the most violent, the most frustrating day ever. In the moment I saw a police officer arrest my colleague I was pretty much in shock and yet acted fine. I was shaking from adrenaline and maybe the cold, but I stood my ground and watched and witnessed and answered questions and talked about the situation with the other officer.  I was momentarily detached enough to suggest that I was semi-comfortable with the situation, but trying to write it down later caused me to start crying almost immediately.  As did hearing from some of my students about their interactions with the police, while I was trying to lead a discussion with a crowded room, I couldn't remember the words I needed to speak, and heard my voice breaking, sometimes you have to look away from a crowded room, just a moment to bare witness to your own shaking.
Hard not to get attached.


I was rereading some of the things I have posted lately. 
I feel like my life is caught in a loop, a constant cycle where I spend all my time and energy worrying about these big picture things and neglect some of the things that are closer to home. Sometimes intentionally neglect them because its a lot easier to deal with big outside things that seem chaotic, then the often dramatic situations inside.  I have all these feelings I am not really aware of that are dragging me down, and I choose not to become aware of them because I don't know what to do with them, because as real as they may be, they are not helpful.
and in saving the world or protecting oneself, its hard not to get attached

I miss my cats, they were a huge pain in the ass and we weren't supposed to have them, and I was sick of feeding them several hundred times a day, but there is nothing like a pet to sooth the parts of us we don't let each other sooth.
and sometimes I feel very inhuman, because I don't allow myself to be soothed by anyone, for whatever fear of being hurt, weak or attached. and in that I show how attached I am to my own shame.

The look on my coworker's face when she was being cuffed was how I live my life,
She looked simultaneously proud and ashamed, like she had done what she knew to be right and was immediately punished for it. It was a second on her face but feels like forever in my heart.
I don't mean to say all my actions are good or right, but that in my heart it always feels like it won't matter how right they are...

I don't write or draw or read as often as I would like to.
Its funny that I made it past 27 and still feel like I don't have much time left... like I got really used to that mode of thinking. Now I find myself once again really caught up in that space of what the hell am I doing with my life? like not my actions, but the way I choose to spend my time and the time I spend on such unfix-able situations. The intention and focus I put on the enormous, the longing and sentiment directed into a void that doesn't give back the same.

In Buddhism, one is supposed to be compassionate towards one who is in pain, who is in joy and who is in daily life.
Sometimes I am overwhelmed with pain, joy and daily life,  (as all of these are attachments)
but I really enjoy the times when I can be compassionate towards myself for these things, so rarely does it happen, but it feels real in a way that even the sense of feeling joy doesn't. Its a really beautiful out of body feeling and I can understand how a monk could dedicate their life to it, but I am several lifetimes away from being that devoted me thinks...

I have been watching a lot of long island medium (tv show), not sure if its real or not, but it makes me feel good. I never realized how much that stuff matters to me, because when people say they fear death, I don't, not like I fear the dark, not like I fear being vulnerable, not like I fear zombies and things...
But I fear life not mattering, and though most spiritual perspectives say that is basically true, there is a freedom in that, that allows life to matter to me.  

oh well...  enjoy


 

g

 Back in Minneapolis, 

I already feel anxious

as if the things I haven't started

can no longer be completed

so I have this desire to sneak them in,

like "the checks in the mail"

 trouble is, I forgot what bills are due

I know I have a limited time

I know the areas of life that seem important

but what are the tasks

trouble is, I don't know if I care

with freedom comes the recognition that 

a lot of what we think is important, 

is really self designated,

is really bullshit.

So what happens without a perfect plan?

and if I should forget a key point

and if i should stumble into new beginnings

and if I should find something more fulfilling

would it be ok to walk away?

am I destined to walk this self same path

I could wake up one day miserable

contemplate forever

 kiss it all goodbye, 

and see the same opportunities 

as today, with less time to pursue them

oh well

I need to find a new coffee shop, a new habit, a new drug as the song goes.

I would like to walk more and move to a new neighborhood every month

It would be pleasant to not be so frustrated with my family for their desire to celebrate holidays to the point it feels more like obligation

gonna go read some buddhism.  in yo face

seattle night

I started writing a few hours ago, it was really dry so I stopped.

I feel fairly uncreative, though rather inspired.

There is nothing like traveling to get me into new space (hehe).

Melissa is studying for a few more minutes so can I say...

I find the people more beautiful, the steps easier to take, the stories more scrumptious.

I find the time to center, to breathe as the monk says, breathe in and know I am breathing in.

I find the music lifting, tugging, 

I find the coffee irresistible, and the beds launch me from sleep to wakefulness like catapults, slam me into new days.

I find my old notions easily melt away, castle walls fallen, but my connections do not, sometimes they become even more accented, the stories and conversations come to mind while I walk, while I read, while I look at the sky I see eyes and lips and smell scents long forgotten.

I crave more, yet often feel fulfilled. 

I desire more, yet feel contented to enjoy new moments.

I recognize things I've forgotten, painful moments, joyful moments, astonished moments, they all flow in and out... 

but I do not feel creative, I feel like a passenger on a vessel that is dancing, I feel like the smell on the wind dispersing in the nostrils of many, scattering into various memories, pulled a thousand directions, I feel like the touch of lovers, intentional, nervous, sensual, longing.

I feel, that's it, I feel it all and can't peg any of it down long enough to call it an argument. Its not logic, but listful, and as such hard to believe in at all.

Hard to know what will come of this...

this is the first post in weeks...    

hope it was vaguely satisfying

4.2.12

My computer says it is 9:25 and its wrong, because I am in Seattle.
I have been hanging with Melissa, and may see Gabs tonight or tomorrow before heading back east.
This trip has been really nice, but exhausting as well.

It started last Wednesday after a full day of work, and more than a few smiles and hugs from Victoria saying she would miss me. Its hard to say how much I appreciate that, though I wouldn't necessarily feel all that comfy telling her.  Its just nice to see someone who has passion, its nice to feel it directed at you in the positive way.

I met up with Steve who took me to the airport and met Ben from SoT. We talked about school and politics and then set out to Chicago.
In Chi town he told me about the local foods that he adored (he went to college there) and we snacked. Then we boarded a flight for Portland.

Tight seats, but we chatted with one of his seat mates, and scanned through the readings assigned to us for the conference.  With little sleep, at something like 11:30 West coast time, we headed to our hotel which was an old middle school that had been redesigned and was basically the coolest thing in the world.  I spent another two hours awake with thoughts and we woke up for a breakfast with our main contact Meagan, who reminds me of a cross between Andrea and Lyda.  Meagan told us just a bit about the conference and confirmed our suspicion that we were walking into an amateur show and would be on display. We volunteered to try to sway the conversations towards things that would help her, since part of this whole conference is to work to get progressive churches some cash and make a splash on the ELCA.

Well... the first day was pretty uneventful, very similar in design to a stripped down version of weeklong training. That night we had dinner as a collective and the local bishop gave a bit of a sermon on how the Eucharist relates to the economy.
It was a good sermon, which was followed by everyone giving communion to each other, a ceremony that was really beautiful except that i am not sure about taking communion anymore, and Ben being Jewish didn't feel comfortable taking part.

The next day got a little more into the purpose of the conference, but not too in depth.
That night I decided to explore Portland a little and since we had to change hotels it worked out perfectly as the new hotel was much closer to the city center.

I walked down from Lloyd center over the steel bridge into downtown. Porland's downtown is full of these tiny little blocks that make you feel like you can fly by how fast they go by. I first explored the remnants of the china town (where I would later meet Ryan for lunch), then up and down some of the main blocks, stopping to take a few pictures and read a few signs.
I stopped into a Baskin Robbins for a single scoop of Daiquiri Ice on a sugar cone. Then continued walking in and out of the blocks, while checking in occasionally with Melissa who I was to meet up with in Pearl District.