Somewhere like home

I head north in a few minutes, Seattle bound (you know I am never hard to locate). Watching the sunset last night over Dry Creek Valley, I realize how home this place feels. All of it, the almost thirty horses, the checking freezing waters, the keeping the wood fire burning. I am against my skin, inhabiting the area between me and my thoughts, it's a decent place to stand.

After this first year time starts to make sense in the way where I know the starlings were a little late this year, we had more water come down than expected in december, the cranes are migrating, the grape harvest was gonzo.

I love you

The Coin with Two Faces

Remember how a week ago I fucked myself by betraying a friendship? Well, the funny thing is that the further I get from the situation, the more assurance I have that I didn't actually fuck myself hard enough. I should really sit and mediate a bit more about how to be more of a nuisance to everyone around me.

So I woke up at six and made coffee, started a load of laundry (lord is it raining!), packing for the trip to washington and oregon.

Funny how I don't know where to call home these days.

Though my distress in saying what needed to be said to the person who needed to hear it was real and tangible, I grow weary of eggshells and metaphors

The End of Now

As the world ends, I sit here and think about life. How have I lived, what it's been worth, this flash of an eye sack of flesh and bones.

How I'll miss cigarettes, chocolate, libraries, coffee, dry socks, pushing 102 down dry creek road.

The questions I have now seem a little irrelevant: did I love enough; did I love the right people; did I love myself in a way that demonstrates the capacity of demonstrative lifetime evolution for an accountable homo sapien?

I fear, yes

fuck you, I am sorry

I am sorry, fuck you

yes, I fear

Eating Pnuts in Bed

Funny how the same amount of time in one year is interminable and the next is a blink of an eye. The last four months have passed quickly. Summer falling into winter the dwindling daylight goes almost unaccounted for in book until it is now the almost the darkest day of the year.

Having done my brief penance for the crime of the heart I have been absolved of my action and life goes on. Funny how are there moments in a life when growth and development seem to wedge their way into a tight space and just burst open any remaining tendrils of the past.

This was about honesty and if you know me in real life, you most likely know that I've been terrified of saying things which are the hard truth. I am learning and oddly embrace the fact that life makes sure I have more than enough on my plate to keep my cracking the boundaries of my evolution.

I rigged up a studio in the old barn--I hear rumor of a wood stove being dropped off--there is a noisy bone crunching, marrow sucking creature out there.  It's good; I am alone, not lonely

eyes wide open, hearts fall down

I learn about trust these days
how quickly it can be broken
the failure in my lapse in judgement and my inability to understand consequence

All of that aside, the world may end
The trust I broke with one of my best friends
breaks my heart and the world may end
and everything was roses

"Don't believe what you cannot see,' said the blindman

I think about faith these days. I pull it in and out of the basket of possibilities I keep tucked under my bed.

One night back in september while sitting around the fire at Basecamp Bobcat, someone asked, Can faith be tested or is all faith blind?

Context aside I hear a lot about faith at church. But the crux of it is that I have never had more proof than I do now that my search for god and my search for myself beg the same question.

Hungering for an explanation, reason, purpose, direction
my head bleeds questions

and my heart aches redemption

Do you value justice over mercy?

Yes, but only after meting justice

Live Star Action

Eight years ago I was getting drunk on beer, sleeping on a couch, listening to a man I could have loved  discuss the status of his relationship with a girl who was not me. It was my father's last night on, this, god's green earth.

I woke up, went to church, walked back to my Papa, watched him pass, read a psalm, watched his spirit reunite itself and return to god.

Off in seattle, I drank whiskey out of a crazy straw, moved to portland, fell in and out of relationships, found love, fought love, lost love; discovered high potency psychedelics, stopped using the hard whites, riding horses again, learned to swim a sub-30 mile, competed in a few sporting events, became part of a family, was considered to be almost an adult by most around me, I think I lost in all of that the tick-tock of my vital stance.

I don't have much to offer; what I have is yours. How nice would it be to imagine that we move through life islands, untouched, untouchable, stalwart to the internal crescendo of awareness. Lives overlap and years pass, faces emerge from forgotten histories.

One of these is my darling Mr. Kitty, who after even my first tours of seattle, the youthful mayhem, has remained a steady influence. We've even managed dinner once in the last five years. I ate a whole fish, it came with skin and its eyeball, it was delightful.

There are times I think I remember too much, at other times, I know I have forgot all the best parts, like the sound of your life as your heart beat in your chest and the smell of sodden wool. I am lonesome for the memories of all of us. I am with you even when we are so far apart

eleven down, one to go

One more full moon this year; a handful of days, a smattering of nights. I am preoccupied with my work and am uncertain how to navigate through my days, how to fill my nights. Grateful that there are not an endless number of them. Drawing closer to the people nearest to me takes patience and exactitude of mind and heart. The texture of my dreams can be grating and raw. I wake thirsty and exhausted.

True right now: I am soft around the edges, but since I am good at convincing myself that the world is about to end, I don't mind. I can live off the extra for weeks: I've done it before; when the end comes it is going to come down to roller skates and water.

I am sleepy and excited to see this year cycling to a close. Though a rich, deeply rewarding year I am exhausted to the center of my bones and need a week of sundays and two friday nights to fill my reserves.

I am not Irish

But I have a jar full of four-leafed clovers (there are a few fivers in there for good measure as well). I suppose this should mean I have better odds of winning the lottery, but, since I've only found some two hundred and thirty six of them in my life, I suppose I ought to leave the winning to someone who understands currency. http://www.deseretnews.com/top/542/12/Finding-a-four-leaf-clover-20-things-more-likely-to-happen-than-winning-the-Mega-Millions-lottery.html

A Woman Against Motherhood

It's a concept that I've held for the last decade or so. It is the idea that I, as a biologically capable adult female chose not to conceive a child for moral, social, and political reasons. I chose not to have a child nor do I either chose to sublimate my dna to the off chance that my womb may possibly someday carry jesus. It won't.

Anyhow, babies are not for me. Not until all of our citizens have education and nutrition. Have you ever lived off of cheetos and pepsi, that shit is toxic. And, why the fuck is it so hard to see that as we outsource our minds, as we belittle our bodies, as we fight wars against enemies unknown we soften internally and lose focus.

So I am out of that race, thank god.

http://womenagainstmotherhood.blogspot.com/