some friends hold the best silence

i visited a forest ecosystem today. there were brambly types and lofty types, there were blue jays, birds of prey and an enormous white cat. there were deer track and dog tracks, and one lone beer bottle. not too bad for an hour out of town. and oh! the river.

at night, the milky way was stunning. i watched orion drift across the sky, the pleiades amuse themselves (they're like the people who hang out in the kitchen at parties. there's nothing different about them, but they seem to have more fun nonetheless), a star fall like a lone firework quietly streaking through the night.

i thought about trees. about the huge banyan tree i'd seen in honolulu, the branches cascading down into roots, how i could walk through them. i thought about palm trees, how they seem to dance in the wind like shaggy fraggles rockin' out to the sweetest tunes. i thought about the tree on 108st i usually touch as i walk by, its trunk expanding past the skinny public swath of green between the road and the sidewalk, its roots upheaving the poured cement. i thought about all the tress i won't meet, the trees destroyed by storms and clearcut by humans who don't know or don't care that those kinds of drastic methods are neither necessary or even beneficial to the value system that's emerging. reading this book is helpful and inspiring, but the best thing is just getting out there. i want to go to california and hang out with redwoods.

i wrote this in my journal: "with just our ignorance, we could get by. it's our shame that debilitates us. making mistakes is one thing, not fixing them is another." we could fix things so easily, we're so clever. but we would often rather be windbags. strange how shame is so powerful. how did we let it grip us so tightly?

i feel re-inspired, like i can smell again. i want to love the parts of life that are awesome.

sense of gratitude

i don't know if it's the free time on my hands, the book i'm reading being a handy reminder of my ability to choose my family, living with a child or even something as simple as an actual autumn this year (instead of the short visit of falling leaves to which i am accustomed), but i've been rockin' with gratitude in the past few days.

what occurred to me this morning as i read and drank tea was the bravery required to love again. to love the first time is to master the fear of the unknown. to then experience death and loss, heartwrenching. but then. to realize that love can recur, with all of the loss and suffering inherent with daily living, and with the added fear stemming from how easily it can all be lost... the strength of will and heart required (even through the argument of 'what else can we do, what else is there?') to try again brought me to a moment's silence.

there is honour there.

enjoying and exerting my freedom and facilitating the opportunity for others to exert their own freedom, this is all that i ask of myself. the exertion and facilitation of freedom can come through so many activities! supporting art, supporting human rights, supporting the sharing of information, supporting self-awareness and respect... sharing my own process, loving and caring for the world around me, listening, asking myself where my food comes from, laughing, playing, seeking out new muses... bringing awareness to the daily processes and difficulties of eking out a dignified life; being compassionate.

time again

it's so easy to become distracted, especially when new toys cross one's path. the reminders, however, are nearly as frequent as the distractions, and today i was reminded again.

the important point isn't what kind of relationship i am forming with someone, it is whether or not i can be vulnerable in front of them.

imagine laying gentle waste to the soul-draining methods of yesteryear. imagine growing according to permaculture, not linear false perfection. imagine listening to the wind and actually being able to understand.

i was getting caught up in the action of a vacation, another land and a fat severance cheque. i was reveling in distraction. beauty has been bubbling up through the cat's shapes on soft surfaces.

and now? and now?

>>attention!<< huxley's birds call. is this ominous? or enchanting? unemployment rolls away the days. painlessly i relax, with wonderful journal entries and trips to the pool shaping the drifts and hollows of almost two weeks.

when i slow down, information comes out through my pores in a way that efficiency invariably avoids. their natures oppose each other; silent saunas and by-the-second management: don't seat them near each other at parties.