shift

And then quirky becomes flakey.

I hate that...the wonderful becomes annoying...

The emotional soul looks to protect itself from the pain of separation...from the fall-out of a drug you can no longer have...ever...because it's gone...

And demonizing is the way to cope..."it wasn't very good anyways"...

"There were obvious problems" masked from awareness for infatuation...

Don't speak any promises when feeling joy...wait for the level...wait for the true tests that come only over time...in joy or in despair, speak not about love or hate...don't make those big declarations, those big decisions when deluded by infatuation...

"the saddest part of a broken heart isn't the ending so much as the start"

"the tragedy starts from the very first spark, losing your mind for the sake of your heart" Ms. Feist

I will lose my mind for my heart again...

I will lose my heart for my mind again...

Yes

Tickle my fancy and rot my socks. All of a sudden, it would seem all is lost.

How to regain, how to reclaim the SELF?

When is the stretch too much?

What is needed?

What are the lowest common denominators?

Time alone--for us introverts.

Sleep--for us who need sleep.

Beautiful food--for us beautiful, fresh food lovers.

Yoga--for us breathers and stretchers and lovers of delicious holds.

Outdoors--for us outdoor needers.

The dog--for us dog needers, dog pleasers...joy in the woods, all alone, watching, not talking, not thinking, just feeling, communing silently, ever so subtly with the dog, listening to body movements...joy in the woods, on the trail, with the dog...

Love---of self, be gentle with oneself, from others, from another, of LIFE capitalized, of learning, of mother, of siblings, of family, of her...

How much stretch is too much?

How much can we wait for something to be created?

What's NOT wrong?

There are no miracles...only this miracle...

twinkle

stuck lately on this theme of carrying the joys and hopes and pains and pleasures of our ancestors in our present days, in our DNA...

carrying unfulfilled hopes, carrying dreams, living out dreams, living out the unfulfilled lives of others...

as she walked, she was not just her...she was graceful like her grandma...and stubborn like her dad...or was that just her?...her only...how can you say she is but her and her only? the wry smile, the eye twinkle, the chin dimple, the thoughts about last night's dinner, the wanting to leave this place, the desire to go nowhere, the decisions about future pathes, the regrets about lovers lost...

she cannot possibly be just her...only this body made up of, what is it, 80% water, just this what you can see and only what you can see...

she is so much more---spinning inside is the feather-weight dream of all those who came before...

we are the individual, the collective, the past, the future, the never-will-happen, the did-not-happen, the regret, the joy, the answers, and, most definitely, we are the questions...

Shown

Walking with friends...drizzle...scouting high-bush cranberries...Crestview...in swoops the hawk...sweeping and screeching...

down low like, through the break in the trees, right for us, along the path...

And then up, away...over the hemlocks and away with her call of flight...

visited by the hawk...

Ownership

Will you understand?

I do not understand this divide between in and out, internal and external

Beauty, you see, is hearing the colour of birdsong

Love knows no ownership

The ghostly stride of the wolf is mine not hers; yours not mine

Speak to me not of what you know,

But bathe me in soft whispers of your mysteries

What part of me is just me?

What part of me existed before me?

What part of me is you?

What parts of me and you are carried by us all?

Lodestar

Can you love a place as much as another? Can you love a time as much as a place?

Beautiful baby bunnies...Stella by the shower drain as a puppy...green tops, twisted earrings and sunglasses pushed up on the forehead...

Samuel Glacier, mountain bikes, and heavy packs...wind-whipped tarps, dirty dogs, driving rain, and the laughter...of missing her...the insecurity of early days and missing her...

laughing because of it all...I am living this for others who would want to...and for me...for others who cannot...and for me...she is SO happy...to dance with green sweeping undulations, heavy misted ground-covered soft pleasures...

let's set up here, and eat...and sleep, and watch for breaks in the weather or not...pedal power---the absloute DEEP inner joy of physical exertion mingling with outdoor beauty, and beautiful souls...shared joys...common ground...

this is our common ground...shred it...worship it...kiss it with hiking boot rubber...kiss it with rolling, gripping tire...whip through trees and sing silent songs of desperate love for this northern dry silty earth...they are not white birches, they are trembling aspen...grey moutain, bald like a corpses skull, boogaloo, my trail, el camino, broken truck, ride on...

I don't know...

Lambchop sideburns. Tired eyes. Worn out. Just answer me these few questions while I search your being for answers to the question of how to live a life. Am I using you? Or am I curious about your long, beautiful path?

This man from Dawson. Very tired and now dying. Struggling for responses to my questions about his competence...about his ability to care for himself...about his SHORT TERM MEMORY...

Looking to please me...valiant effort until the end of days...fight for it.

I have to do my job. And take from him at the same time. Fill me with stories of traplines, and snowmobiles, and the colourful 5%, and mutterings of "never shake hands with someone you don't know", "that goddamn woman" "we shook on it."

How might I live? Like him? 96 years old and failing beautifully...ready for rest...determined to rest...quiet eyes open and close according to him not me...he's not on my schedule...the world does not revolve around me...this glorious life over in the beat of a dragonfly's wing...infinitely long...delicately uncertain...live it! Man, live it...

Walk the earth...