i wonder in many moments where you are going. where you have been and why it has been so many years since the night slid through our fingers together. time the strange bird that it is was both a friend and a foe that day. you wore a necklace around your neck whose story i would never know but I had long known the story of your gaze towards me. no one else would have known. either way, here or there, now or then. its always nice to see you and those eyes.

the last time i saw you series

i was inspired by another blog to start a fragmented series, "The Last Time I Saw You"



>>>the last time I saw you it was a sunken Friday. I wasn't sure if it was still night or not quite morning, but whatever it was it made sense because whatever I thought we shared had always existed in the in-betweens, in the comings and goings, in the waiting time amidst countless transitions which, no matter how many times I turned away from the space we once held, I kept getting pulled back by a silver string. Anyway that silver string was hanging from a dusty ceiling in the middle of Minneapolis in the first quarter of my life. There was a band I remembered resenting, they were feeding me souls on string and when I turned around in the dark I saw you hovering above her the way I know you wished you could float above me. You held her because I could hold your stare.

That week I had been consisting on whiskey gingers. Whiskey to keep me warm, ginger to keep me grounded and hole. I knew you would do the same for me if you could.

I kept finding you across the room, you were hiding but that silver string pulled at my damp wrists and lead me to you. It made me shudder and I thought why am I enjoying this.

She was cute. She was a spaceholder. A bookmark until you could turn the page and find me laying there, opening myself up for you. Silver string around my ankle. Breathless because I spent my last breath getting to you, walking down years of quaking bog trails to finally find the place where you had last been. Open the page you doggy-eared just in case I came in time. Curling up inside to wait for you. I've been waiting since I first knew I had the capacity to share a life with someone else. I shared my body with you first. The rest will follow I thought. And I curled up in the story of your life thinking about the last time I saw you and if you'd find me here soon.


>>>The last time I saw you I left with your friend. I was whistful and he had whiskey.



>>>The last time she saw you she was wrapped around the waist of a dark haired fool who had no idea he was her bait for you. She slunk across the wooden floor in my Born clogs, thin heels poking out and you didn't know where else to look but down. If only you'd looked up, it would have been your neck she crossed her ankles around that night.

>>>The last time I saw you you didn't see me back. I spent the next three weeks looking over my shoulder.


>>>the last time I saw you, so many years had passed and yet seeing you I felt 14 again. I drank green tea and wrapped my arms around myself to hide how naked I felt. Years had eroded the world we once shared and yet seeing you, I was 14 and shaking with fresh lust, you were tall and fit perfectly in the spaces between my thoughts.

>>the last time I saw you it was a full moon and you showed up in my dreams. When you followed me to Africa I fell asleep and woke up to you, you floated above me on top of ice some time ago, this time we were entrenched in fire. I'm not sure which one was dream and which reality, but both times we are amidst the most extreme elements. both times we are elated.

alpharetta 7.17.13

as I watched the phish stream last night alone in my earthen bedroom I got to thinking about all the spaces in between our lives, those beautiful lapses we take from the everyday routine to gather ourselves in the best way we know how. For me, that usually means Phish. From my early eager days in a pocahontas headdress, my turquoise glinting in the fields of festival 8. How easily I slid into his hand and in to his world. And later, my first visit to the south, the hot and thick and sweetness of it all. (I always say the southern phans are the best). We kept growing you and I, and in and out of the daily grind we've found a way to escape, to open up space and let the universe fill in. Two years ago when I felt my body failing me and I couldn't go a day without excruciating pain, I dropped everything and postponed my surgery to be whisked away to the big apple. Where my pain was erased and in its place filled with lights I stepped in to a new year. And again...after a heart wrenching summer away where I grew so fast and so hard, and traveled the miles down the lonely lovely coast of highway 1 to come leaping in to the deep sandy belly of the Washington desert. When I felt so young and easy and in love that I wore a unicorn hat just to exemplify the heartbreaking beauty of what it means to surrender to the flow


thankful to The Boys for remaining an exuberantly joyous constant in my glistening life. to all the people who I've shared this journey with, I can't wait to see whats in store for us next. I know this tour will bring us more love, more joy, more memories. Thank you for sharing this love with me, and thank you for widening my capacity to love and dance and BE.

I have lived here before///in the rooms behind my mind

for hemingway

I've been caught in a lovely flow of reading all about Hemingway, his dirty love affairs in paris and his clean prose in 'the sun also rises' and everything in between... I can feel the way my words have been shaped by his. it's almost as if we were on a first name basis. so this is for you, Ernest.

 

Interesting people were everywhere just then. The California lost ones and the Midwestern dreamers and the gentle souls from the South who talked through honey all thick and sweet and slow. On any given night, you could see a fantastically functional jam-grass band, most likely at the Lazy Dog, most likely covering a Ween song just to make sure we all hadn't forgotten, after several cold whiskey sodas, that our tongues were splayed cleverly against our cheeks. Nearly anyone might feel like a musician walking the late streets of Pearl then because the sound brought it out in you, and the shadows alongside the buildings, and the creek path which seemed to want to break your heart, and the long thing women in flowey white and torn denim, smoking and setting aside their bags to dance. We could walk into any bar and feel the wonderful chaos of it all, ordering fireball to warm my heart and Jameson and ginger to cool his soul until we were beautifully blurred and happy to be there together.

..

i was there thinking about how time moved so funny and wondering why they built tiles around the dining room when the wood floors below were so beautiful and why did I drink things when it made me feel like an electric storm that I hated to watch. And just then an old rap song busted through my thoughts and let me relent to the endless ridiculousness of the unrelenting flow.

she said.

she said the clouds had as of late
been speaking to her
she was insistent upon the faces in
her sliding glass door
she wanted to see her son she
wanted to
be with the one
after a mojito i agreed.

after a mojito i agreed
that we both should release
because of the clouds
and the red-tailed hawk
and the plane feeling so electric
above the fat glistening off the ribs
we both understood that we should
release


the clouds told her so.

what happened to june?

it came and left like a sweet jazz tune...

namesake

the goddess Kali is one of the most well-known and worshipped Hindu goddesses. In the most unexpected of places I've come across images of her charred face. In the most troubled of times I've surrendered to her transcendent power. In the divinity of Kriya Yoga I chant to her sacred female principle. And always I feel a part of her.

Let me introduce my namesake...

Frequently those not comprehending her many roles call Kali the goddess of destruction. But she destroys only to create, and what she destroys is ignorance and decay. This black goddess is death, but to the wise she is also the death of death. She destroys the finite to reveal the Infinite.

Kali is the great mother of time. The name Kali comes from the word 'kala', or time. She is the power of time which devours all, the eternal night.  She is usually depicted as naked (my favorite way to dress) and wild-haired (my favorite way to groom). Boundless freedom. A beautiful interpretation I once read says that each wild hair is a jiva (individual soul) and all souls have their roots in Kali. Kali has three eyes; the third one stands for wisdom.

Kali, the dark mother... the hindu triple goddess of creation, protection, and destruction... the kundalini power of intense sexuality... the black and wild earth Mother Goddess who represents the most powerful form of the female forces in the Universe.



...thanks, mom!