Mixed signals?

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.

Truth

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 are not done discovering

​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

Loose the silver chords

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

 shotgun seat experience 

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

I long for…sand in my shoes and your beautiful words in my ears

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 

There’s a chance….

​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

He sighs

​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

Bare footed

​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

Forever