I was reading an article about unusual psychiatric studies involving patients with brain injuries and mental illnesses, and suddenly the strangest idea occurred to me—–what if what really makes you you is simply an electrical impulse, a signal broadcast on a specific frequency. Transmitted from where? And you believed you were the vehicle, expiring when it ran out of gas. Personality disorders? Competing signals? Alzheimer’s? Weak signal? Far fetched? Maybe, but interesting none the less.
There is nothing more powerful than truth. We cannot adequately measure the depth of its beauty, as we cannot wrap our minds around the distance of infinity, nor can we comprehend how long forever may be. One could argue that truth itself is cold and heartless without the emotions and we attach to it. However, it just may be that it exists as we understand it to be perceived, we recognize it because of the way it feels. Keep publishing your truths as you discover them and singing us your songs, they may lead us to new ones of our own and I find that idea quite powerful and beautiful.
You have found some truths
Some difficult truths
Some may even belong to you
You own them like your own skin
But you only see in part and feel in part
They do not define you
The greatest part is an arms length away
You have to keep reaching
Simpler minds may be satisfied with the tactile qualities
Of the surface, but you must plunge deeper
Reach, dive, dream, and never give up.
It is not so very long
Our sojourn here
So try your best to make it count for something
Break from the tiresome routines
Step out of your comfort zone
Give of yourself and you’ll get more of you back
Share with me your brokenness
Your imperfections, the ugly cry,
The snorting laugh
Paint on a smile for the rest of the world if you must, but take me inside you until I discover the truth
Speak to me with your eyes, don’t turn away and break the spell
You have nothing to hide from me, I am not fit to judge myself much less anyone else
I will guide your fingertips across my scars, slowly tracing the textures
Your whispered breath in my ear is the only language we need
Be with me only, fully present in this moment
I sense your fear as I blow your defenses down and advance into the hidden places
I am also afraid, you are my sanctuary
We are so close to discerning what has been lacking
The origins of our phantom aches
Peering cautiously through the veil together
One step further and we must loose the silver chords, disintangled and set adrift
Inescapably joined together alone
perchance never to return
I love the jumping lines
I watch them approach and fall behind
And the trees running backwards
I watch them until I am dizzy
Then lean back and extend my arm
Just far enough to allow my hand to surf the wind outside the rolled down window
Sometimes the air bids you lean forward to brush your face and tussle your hair Other times it is enough just to close your eyes and listen to its whispered. secrets
The well traveled highway sings
Bumps and roars, tires rolling rhythmic clicks and pops
I am a traveler, and for the moment it doesn’t matter where we go or for how long
I’m swept up in the motion, in the journey, in the going
The present rushing past, fleeting , beautiful
Not to hold, not to keep, not to have
Seeing, feeling, reaching out, touching, being touched, listening, learning, and letting go
An afternoon with you under the shade
Of an old live oak tree
I tell you the shapes I see in the clouds
And you tell me a story using them for characters
Or maybe we will go to the beach on a whim and fly a kite
Roll up our pants, kick our shoes off and walk along the shore
You casually put your hand in mine and it feels so natural
You find a pretty seashell and leave it where it lies
We don’t need souvenirs, this is a simple day we will never forget
And besides , who needs a shell when the whole beach is ours
We will just take a little sand in our shoes and memories
The universe is just the result of a big cosmic accident
That humans are just what monkeys become in a few billion years
The human race will be wiped out by a nasty, mutating virus or nuclear war
None of it really matters
But then there is you. A miracle which has never been before,
And will never come again. Testing and proving love exists and identity.
Learning and teaching and sharing. Daring, hoping, believing.
Striving, yearning, thinking your own thoughts, dreaming your own dreams.
Wonderfully unique, an impossibility until you were born.
The world can keep their scientific probabilities , and I will
Keep wishing on the petals of daffodils and believing in miracles
Because you exist
No one so young and innocent should ever have to sigh like that.
It is not the common sigh of youth that resonates boredom or irritation.
It is a deep long sad sigh that is filled with loss and frustration.
The cancer stricken child trapped within his own failing body.
He cannot say the things he wants to say or do the things he longs
To do, so he sighs. That scene haunts me. I was there and could do nothing
As children we endure the sticky burrs and ant bites
To feel the cool grass beneath our feet
They say with age comes wisdom, and that may be true
But let us never be too old or too wise to throw caution
To the wind long enough to run bare footed in the yard.
To run through the sprinkler in the heat of the day
To pretend and imagine silly things
To find dragons in the clouds
To blow bubbles and make wishes on dandelions
To be just what we are and believe that now is just as good as