Déjà vu of broken Promises

Glaring into your eyes
when sun and mirror
meet
and my familiar
uncertainties
spring up
gliding in air
drifting and clinging
to us...


...to anything.

Solitude

Keyhole floating there,
vacant occupant of the door.
Anticipating an entrance,
its purpose is simple
though seldom fulfilled.

It lulls there,
quiet, shifting its view
from the dim indoors
to the opulent glow of day.

Keyhole floating there,
Camera Obscura.
Capturing whatever light
the world is willing to throw.

Waiting for the glimpse of shadow
on the room’s backside
when the one
with a sturdy hand,
finds the precious key
brings it up to greet her,
and turns her life around.

Repition

Again begets again,
and off we go.
Tug of war,
a back
and forth
sort of pulling
reaching
stretching.

Only I feel
each thread of hair
lost by the scrape
of eager palms
gripping and wrenching
letting go only
to wrench and grip
again.

An again foresees another
and off we go.
the tug,
of war.
A back and forth
sort of yearning,
lusting
longing.

Only I know
every mud drenched dream
lost between arms
anguished by the
constant clench.

Again beckons the next,
and off we go
this tug of war
which I cannot grasp.


I, the rope.

Walls

I have missed out
on much of the world
simply by being home.

Home must be energy
home is a force field,
it is an aura
that somehow
attaches itself

To structures
made of wood and rain
stone and sweat
cardboard boxes
and hope.

This shelter has
contained me,
Wooed me away
from dewy green grass.

A sly barter
of bed of sand
and blanket of sea,
I kiss the moon
from my bed of cotton,
bed of warmth.

Our hut is lavish
warm in winter,
cool against
summer's cheek.

A voluntary cage
I gaze through glass;
missing the Earth.

Imagining the sound
of a leave detaching
itself from it's
glorious tree,
or the smell of
a butterfly
newly shed of
it's cocoon.

Ignorance's of life.

Less is considered
as we dwell here
in our home.

Tucked inside walls;
Walls of our homes,
walls of our minds.

A day in the life of my journal.

welcome to the wonderful world that is my journal...



Aug. 8th 2009, 4:30 pm


"Good Afternoon. Today is my lucky day. Magic is happening today, all around me. Everything is working in my favor today. I am thankful for the beautiful sun, the trees and the shadows they make together. I am thankful for the cool and compassionate wind. I am thankful for the incredible gift and ability to be able to hear all the beautiful sounds of life. Thankful for the talents of humans, who create such exciting senses-rattling music! Thank you God for MUSIC! Thank you for words, for languages. Thank you for diversity! Thank you for the distinct talents, traits, flaws, gifts, aptitudes, and pleasures that make each one of us, simply, who we are. Thank you that I sit here today thankful! So overjoyed with excitement, just to sit here, with myself, in your day. Basking in your marvelous ambiance (as cliche as that sounds). Thank you for shadows. Thank you for this tree, so full of life, constant life; breathing so that I can breathe.
Ok, now I need to go back and record the events of the past 3 days in as much detail as I can muster. It is the most excitement I have seen in a while..."

AND that's all you get!
now you know what
a day in the life of my journal is like.
cheers.

Text Messaging... An American passtime?

How many of you text message? Right, all of you. All of us, as I am in no way excluded from the phenomena. I feel a slave to my cell phone every time i hear it call out to me "text message!" (a sound i recorded with my own voice and set as my alert). I stop what I'm doing and anwser it's command.

One morning a few days ago, it seemed that everyone was texting me at one time... My mom, my Dad, friends...etc. Everytime I would go to do something, "text message!" and off I went to answer to my phone. So then, do I own it? Or does it own me? When you are standing in line at the grocery store...the resurant...waiting for the bus...how many people are text messaging? How many people are completely unaware of their surroundings?

On television, extras in the background are texting away. Texting is incorporated into comercials...television shows, and movies. Anybody see Seven Pounds? Text messaging played a KEY role in the film.

It is not only the American culture which has been taken captive by this text messaging frenzy. When I traveled to Japan in 2007 I saw many people sitting on the subway, texting. I would look over unsuspecting shoulder to see the japanise characters glide onto their LCD screens. The language was so foreign to me it was more like artwork than anything.

I used to find myself walking around Temple's campus, crossing the street, texting. Total disreguard for looking to the left, right, and left again. Instead, I looked down, to recieve or send another text. I have been engaged in conversations, pulled at my phone and preformed my duty to it, then continued with the conversation I was having face to face with another human.
What robotic behaivor! Yet, the person I'm speaking with does not take offense, for just moments ago they did the same thing.

So, text messaging is a part of our subculture. When VH1 chronicles the years of my youth and 20s, text messaging will have it's own segment. Along with Myspace, Facebook...and twitter (what is a twitter?!?!). I can only imagine what is next.

meditation

Surely there was a time when our minds were in a still and silent state.

Perhaps it was when we were in the quiet of our mother's womb.

Floating in water, given all we need to live.

Just to exist, not a thought about it.

No questioning, no judgment, just existence.

Why then is it so hard to get back to this place.

Where did the quiet go?

Why must we seek it out with daily practice?

I sit in a dark room

legs crossed and spine errect

I close my eyes and breath

"just listen to your breath"

there it is, the voice I want so badly to escape

"I am not the voice, I am the presence which knows the voice is there"

I breathe

I count my breath

Thoughts come like a stampede

I jump on top of one

I ride it for a while then step off

"just let it go by"

I breathe.

The life source flows in and out.

Still I have not found quiet.

Where is the stillness?