Friday, April 08, 2011

Writings & Musings from the past year

The past year has been a season of ups and downs, challenges and opportunities. Moods assault and retreat, envelop and enfold and embrace. And sometimes they find me with pen in hand.

Undercut by the creek

Aug. 13, 2010

Dying a day at a time
Monotony and choices, perspective and fears
Vice-like grip that crushes soul leeching the marrow
Dormant life tenuously clinging buried deep
Longing to burst free. Desiring to run and gambol.
Feeling bound to obligation and responsibilities
Knowing they exist only because they are acknowledged by self
I believe them. I empower them. I am beholden then to I.

Lies made truth. Slave to my own shackles on chains of belief.

Yet I live. I resist for I am not resigned.
Possibility and potential always whisper and tempt one cursed to dream.
At the heart of the deepest essence we are free.
All else surrounds.

Sept 12, 2010

Talon on metal. Crows, on the patio roof
Nourishing rain falls, sky hangs dark and grey
More precious becomes the sun and hints of blue sky
When the veil is pierced a collective glorious sigh
Perspective is key
Sun and rain in balance with purpose: my beloved rainforest
A world with pain and suffering; laughter and joy
Perspective is key

Do you think beauty, truth, love are temporary momentary fleeting fancies?
Are they leprechauns and elves told to children and seen as a nice idea
a lovely whimsy
a false hope

Or are they a foundational deepness everpresent?
I know what I know and you wish.


To be grasped and shaken by emotions that have taken me
by the heart's beat and choken my words
love given is gone and no right to return

So tread carefully beneath the facade
I think of her still though the years have passed by
while I look to grow older on the outside
but at these few times my heart remembers
my breath catches
my soul aches
as it will in these times forever
until my heart beats no more

love given is gone and no right to return.

I'm not sure when it happened.
I don't know how it occurred: how she slipped past my guard.
How she made it through so deep into rarely walked territory.
I miss her when I think of her
so I try not to think of her. Often.
It usually works.
Except for rainy days in foreign places when I'm left alone
with myself and time.
What does it mean my "I love you"? That will never be known.
Just felt inside as a hint and a ponder,
and a memory of rainy days and smiles.

Thanks for the smiles. They'll always be with me too.

Rainy day smiles passage of time
Moments of magic looked back on
I hear you laugh and say my name
I see your face, your eyes. I love your eyes.
You know me too well, I fear, better than many
better than most. I cannot hide from you,
except that you no longer ask.

Love given is gone and no right to return.

I partly wish I could close this door,
this chapter in my heart. But I cannot.
If I could I would not.
Heart doors don't close.
Only open.
Love given is gone.

Falling Water

Oct 7, 2010

Time the running
never caught
never held
always pouring out flowing away
most valuable freely given overlooked
each moment unnecessary
each moment opportunity
each moment a moment


Oh to see that the gift is good

For the wisdom to be understood

For the strength to climb the hill

For the ear to hear be still

Light and wet

Oct 9, 2010

To be respectful
To be aware

To live as an example being still, being love, being heaven on earth.
To feel frustration and anger lead into compassion
To be human possibility and choose better choices

To look around and see
to listen with intent to hear
to accept ones location and learn
to breathe in and out and in and out
to remember and forget and remember and forget
to wake up from slumber to return
to finger paint freely forms as gifts
to face fear, feel fear, and go on with the
stroke of a pen
strum of a string
breath past a chord
step out the door
eyes touching gaze
to be afraid
to be allowed to be afraid
to see and know and accept fear
in me, in you, in he, in she, we
are together in fear. in pain. in sorrow.
in laughter. in joy. in triumph.
to know that you and me, she and he, are all we.
To love. To cheer. To wipe tears.
To hug and hold the young and old
Insanity the vanity and profanity
of I
alone apart unseen disconnected
that the truth may set free.


To create a world from the nothing with the stroke of a pen
To interact with environments and orders on levels aplenty
Cognition and thought from where comes the seed?
Where does the first musing first fire?
A cascade of collisions as electrolytes dance and
impulses fly down dendrites and neural speedways.
Eyes observe and the brain connects, muscles that manipulate
a black pen between fingers and thumb.
We can trace and track the signal from brain to fingertip, and return.
But from where does the idea come?
Observe and encounter experiences abounding
through tactile and vision, taste, scent, and sound...
to become..


To see and accept others as they are
as not being me
To honour and appreciate them
Tick tock bird clock on the wall
We both wear wool slippers
His foot moves in time to a song I don't hear
The moment passes

Rain on Vancouver Island

Nov 9, 2010

A place familiar in part from the past and processes gone before beyond.
New linoleum reflects under squeaky shoes
of young adults emerging, arriving, embarking to life.
A college cafeteria where once friends were found
A view out the window over the parking lot I lived below
A view towards the 3 bedroom place 6 of us dwelled, laughed, learned.

Time is a distance, Minkowski space.
Eight years ago I was not in this place so familiar
My roomate not in those trees I see out the window
forcefully and fervently encouraging the leaves' departure
Universal expansion, planets orbit, cellular replacement
A brand new moment and place never to be again.
And gone; a memory glimmers as rainfalls.

March 22, 2011

Different mediums present different challenges for me
Photographs are nice because what you see is
what you click and what you get
Or at least I've learned to see and click and get.

Drawing irks me. Or rather I get irked at my inability
to put on paper the indescript idea/feeling visual I have in my brain.
I let this irking stop me often from drawing more often. I'm
slowly working through that.

I'm learning more about my tricks
for procrastinating. My fears and perfectionism, and the little
things that help me get past that sometimes.

Often when I think "I should write now"
I'll end up staring daunted at a screen. Unsure where to start.
Apparently the trick today was to pick up my pen
turn to my notebook,
and just start writing...

Clouds over Texada Island

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