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.
Writing
10/23/2022
08/28/2022
A Unifiable Theme
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.
12/25/2021
The Limitations of Expertise
Who's story am I allowed to tell? Can I hand over free rein to my imagination so it can wander unchecked as it dictates the rules of an existence lived outside of my skin? The safe play is to write what I know; access to opportunities and the freedom to consider more than one path in life. Does my background translate into an echo chamber, or an offensive display of privilege? Either way, not much of a page turner and closer to a head-scratcher.
What’s it like to be human? I think I can speak to that experience with some level of expertise, but what’ll it take for me to offer a more inclusive narrative of who we are as a species? Here today and destined to become a memory, if we’re lucky. Stardust, at the very least.
12/22/2018
Be the Star
Not a proper Year-In-Review this. Not even going to speculate on what's in store for 2019. Just a handful of things that happened:
* I rescued a withered Philodendron scandens tucked amongst boxes of Tampax stacked on a table of markdowns at Walmart. I christened the plant Luz.
* Learned to embrace the ludicrous and my worldview improved immensely.
* Wrote some pretty shitty poetry.
* Got to be a tourist in the city where I live when family came to visit.
* Colleagues were given the Fourth Quarter Boot Scoot at my place of employment. I'm still there.
Snapshots of a life lived as the planet does its slow dance around the sun. Time, too, continues to communicate in its ebb and flow way. And each one of us a star. No, really. We follow stars across the sky in our search for home. But as a star, the only place one can return is where you are.
11/08/2018
The State of Becoming
O.k., Masters-in-Training: If the last 10 years have been easy for you, you must have done The Work over prior lifetimes. If yes/no: Has something happened to you in the past 30 to 45 days that slapped ya upside the head (didn't see it comin', didn't see it comin') and left ya lying in a goo pit of conflicting emotions? We are all presently tasked with looking at ourselves through the eyes of others. How well do those narratives criss and cross? Are you ready for a different version of your life to be projected against that big, blank canvass you are staring at? Make sure you've got a red pen handy.
09/12/2018
The List of 100 Names
Oh my gosh! Remember my question last Tuesday? "You don't even play the game, do you?" And how you shook your head with a wide-eyed look and mouthed the word No? Scouts were on the lookout all along. The noticers noticed who showed up. Another way to put this? You are having your Tower Moment, friend. And what have I been saying for the past two years? Make like a tree and leaf. Because you refused to play the game ... Destination stamped on your boarding pass? SIBERIA.
09/06/2018
Underneath the Niceness
Time is fluid, and what I said yesterday is a betrayal sneaking up on you in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ... The downfall has happened. It goes back to my desire for seeing you leave before the month is out. I have enough strength for the both of us, and therein lies our demise. I am "conscious" of my "knowing" you are lost without your lies. [Watch out when you run into writers. You'll be reading your story soon, and it's one you didn't write.] The Meaning of Life is just to show up. "Showing up is half the battle." People say that, don't they? You told me once, "I don't." You serve others only to short-change yourself. Don't be a martyr to a dream that never was. 15 years and One Hundred Ghosts incubated all your false hopes. Corruption of the body; fertilizer for the mind. [You once said to me: "Hope you get back on your feet." Hope you stay on yours.] Memories are missed opportunities waiting to happen. [The only long-term relationship we ever truly have is with ourselves.]
06/08/2018
Stories We Tell Ourselves
Storytellers and makers of beautiful things sometimes deal with the downside of creativity. Maybe this next bit will come off as triggering, but artists don't always have an easy time on this rock. For some, these trips around the Sun are white-knuckle rides. One way or another, we all stick around for as long as we can, so it's best to focus on the joy and memories and stories and beauty that's been left for the rest of us to hold in our hearts.
02/28/2018
How to Map an Unknown Path
My tummy has been awash in warm, slightly pinchy rumblings for the past few weeks. Not acid reflux or indigestion, but rather an arousing twinge in the middle o' the breadbasket. It feels right. I know to trust that particular gut reaction. Bad vibes come at me all cold; sharp jabs in the lower back with a note of bile on the palatine uvula. I can trust my intuition more at <fill in the blank> years of age than <now subtract 20> because I've made mistakes, the same ones a few times even, and finally understand that a change of game plan is what's going to get me where I need to go. Where that is, of course, I do not know.
So how to describe my balanced-yet-foolhardy energy? One that is trusting, loving, non-judgmental of myself and others, and confident that if I go with the flow (which is so very hard for me) I've done the homework that'll save me from disappointment. We are all on a Grand Adventure, Cubby! Be prepared and always carry a First Aid Kit.
02/02/2018
Can I Have Your Number?
A number on the bathroom scale does not determine health or warm fuzzy nudges of "I am the best lookin' bitch on the block!" Rather, how many times I can walk around the block before I get winded is my measurement of cardiovascular wellness. This bipedal mode of locomotion is also a super way to decipher what my back, knees and feet feel compelled to share at any given turn. HAPPY 2018! HAPPY I JUST CELEBRATED MY ___ BIRTHDAY! Again, numbers can be a confusing language when discussing health, and whatever the opposite is. But I will throw out a figure which will help in the writing of this here Love Letter to the Body: 22. There was a time, not so long ago, when I supported an extra 22 pounds on my 5-foot-nuthin' frame. Pleasingly Plump I may have been, but according to this I was overweight, and my numbers (damn pesky things!) sucked. Yeah, this was also a prolonged Blue Period, too. At a heavier weight, I was three pounds away from a number I knew was my Point of No Return. Once I hit that designation on the scale, it was only onwards and upwards for me. My health history and decades of family photos provided all the data I needed to choose a course of action.
Today I feel just right, someone in an official capacity thinks my numbers are acceptable, and I get asked at work what size pants I wear. Unless you plan to buy me a pair of jeans, I humbly submit: What the fuck? Ah, shaming. It does a body good (as in it doesn't really do anything to me, but the numbskull flapping her/his gums apparently gets a boner.)
For the remainder of my journey, I want health and well-being to take center stage, not a dress size or any kind of movement other than that of the bowel. Now to get my Hashtag Game on:
#FoodIsFuel
#HealthNotHate
#KnowYourFamilyHistory
#SayNoToTheShameGame
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