Lament the idol rider
Memories arise while one
Browses the aisles
A roadside gift shop
Search for the perfect
Piece of Identity
Dark hair
Dark eyes
Scent of sage and chocolate
Strong Arms
Wind blew in through
The Cracks
We looked upon
Rolling Hills
Jade Forests
Through grease-smeared glass
And Paradise resides
Beyond the Next
Blind Curve
Keep Scratching
Keep Detaching
You'll Strike A Nerve
Someday
Still raw from saying goodbye at the beginning of the month, but it's gotten a bit easier to breathe. Been receiving lovely messages from friends wanting us to know the many ways in which you helped them and provided countless good times that'll last as precious memories. I've been going through letters and photographs and that's been a good way to process all the jumbled emotions. Here are a few snapshots of the Summer of 2012 when you came to visit on your cross country drive to see Barb & Bernie. That was a solo trip you wanted to add to your list of I Did This! You did reach your destination and had a grand adventure with stories to share when the new school year started.
Speaking of road trips, I'm looking for the photos from our family vacations. I'm including this link because not only is it a beautiful story, but it's also about a place we visited to camp and fish. The Tuesday mentioned in the article made my breath catch in my throat.
I'll check in soon with more pictures and thoughts.
wedding bells sound the news your body's been found
scatter rice
throw the dice
vegas resounds with tourist traps and vice
while the tides rise along the left coast
fishing boats are lost at sea
now it's just you and me
to navigate this soundscape
without your discordant chords
For me, 2023 never really got out of the blocks. On a global level...?
Wars.
Environmental Disasters.
Mayhem of Every Design.
I'm nursing the sniffles and excited about a repair person coming over this afternoon to clean the dryer vent. What better way to ring in 2024? I'm catching a back to basics vibe for the new year. No declarations of losing weight, crossing off <fill in the blank> on Ye Olde Bucket List, changing careers. More like a literal and figurative cleaning of one's house. This past year has been one of accumulation, but not necessarily of objects and experiences that will propel me on my path. I need to get back to the work of creating rather than procuring. There's a lot of stuff cluttering my closets and noggin. So, over the next 12 months, I shall focus on the things that truly matter: Family, Friends & Cupcakes. This paired down list will keep the important stuff prominent in '24 and beyond.
In Junior High (ages me right there using that term) we got to do work rotations in the school office. What a lucky day that was when you got assigned mimeograph duty. The cranking of the machine! Silky, glistening paper rolling out thanks to your labor!! The smell!!! Bottle that shit, man. Oh, the soothing, boozy, candy coated aroma of the ink coming off the cylinder is exactly the balm the world needs right now.
Hey '23! Embrace the new role of Chief Intuitioner. Set the intention to create, not ruminate. Read more, scroll less. Doom is in the eye of the idle. Don't expect the goal line to move toward you. A wish that leaves no heartbeat quickened is bound to become another daydream that'll lead you further from your purpose. Learn to recognize the reflection that shimmers on the surface of memory. Is it an image you'd want others to see when engaged in reverie? We sometimes need a reprieve from ourselves. The power inside you, once wielded with carelessness, must now radiate for those whom you do not know. More magic, less trash must be left in one's wake. Surrender to the silence that tried for years to grab your attention. You always did have a way of giving a good thing a swift kick in the teeth. Here's to another year to learn the lessons you no longer can ignore.
So traumatized Chuck still works the mines.
A poet's soul with hardened arteries.
The company doesn't pay Chuck for his turn of phrase and artist's heart.
It's a tough task to write the perfect stanza when crafted in the arc of a headlamp.
Tomorrow is not a promise, but it is a reason to turn the page. As scattered as one's attention may be, there is a path to be found through the misdirection. Strategy is more than projection. Every idea is an invitation to define one's purpose.
Restlessness is what propels the impulse to create. Creation isn't always the result of a well-made plan. Pursue the vision that won't easily yield to revision. A first thought is energy caught between devotion and detachment.
Spirit is behind each stage of this manifestation implementation. Ideas are free and action is needed to make obstacles submit to one's will. Stop chasing that dream. Tell it to be still.
Instant ratification of thought loops and aggravation keep one comfortably stuck in reverse. We'll circle back around to examine what we've found on the road to relevance.
What is just is, and control is elusive if not aligned with what the Universe has in mind. Wheels turn while lessons are unlearned and fortunes are built on impermanence.
Night lights, be they Friday or Sunday, send signals to the brain that there are treasures buried in your marrow. Relax and catch the movement that goes unseen all around you.
To make something beautiful is a lifelong pursuit.
Keep edges rough.
Lines are suggestions on where they should be crossed.
This is a love letter to your unfettered spirit.
It is the rough edge of one's work that establishes merit.
Beginning. Middle. End.
The order in which the dream is conveyed is inconsequential.
Mastery is misleading. Know when to write the final sentence and then walk away.
One's engagement with your creation is not the reason why you got into this game.
You've dictated the rules. Now go help someone else find her through line.
Challenge everything that makes you feel in control.
To understand one's desire is a trial of the soul.
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