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Saturday, September 25, 2004
the laws of gravity state that what rises must eventually settle and become earthbound. i can't tell yet if i'm about to descend because lately i've been walking seven feet off the ground and it feels like i'm going celestial with each passing moment. i don't know if it's the way the planets are aligned lately. i don't know if it's because the gorgeous season of autumn in the midwest has arrived at last and i am loving the little chill in the air at night, the blazing red and yellow leaves blowing off the trees around my townhouse, the candy corn sprinkled on caramel apples, or because i just have this overwhelming sense of gratitude and clarity about my life. i know that in this body, in this identity, with this particular voice and vision and this sense of urgency and this set of unique circumstances i have to contend with, there is something very important that i have to do. even with all the tension i've felt over the conflict in the world, i still know that what i can offer here, with my loved ones, my friends, my community, that what i can set in motion really matters. this moment. now and here.
if tomorrow i feel the press of gravity. the hard ground firm underneath me. can i still remember with passion, my reason for incarnating? my purpose for being here? my mission?
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
autumnal equinox 2004. coming home after work tonight, passing the bins of orange pumpkins outside of the grocery store, i was listening to mary chapin carpenter on my car stereo singing "a place in the world" and the lyric struck me: "takes some of us a little longer, a few false starts gonna make you stronger, when i'm sure i've finally found it, gonna wrap my arms around it." and then, stopped at the red light intersection, i lapsed into some trembling warp. like i had fallen into the center of the gooey, caramelly center of a cadbury egg. everything was sweet and wet and slow and i wasn't driving on route 59 anymore, but instead i was leaping off a treebranch into a raked cushion of soft leaves--it was all freefall and instinct, and all that mattered was the dare, the pushing off into the sky, the blurry leap into something uncertain.
i need my life. and to know my purpose. and tonight i'm thinking of what it might be like to live another version of my existence.
Monday, September 20, 2004
in my extra strength advil dreams i'm always forgetting something. i've misplaced my car. i've lost my keys. i don't know what city i'm in. i can't remember what i was doing. i was with someone but they're gone and upon reflection, i can't remember who i was with. my dreams all have the same themes. i think i know where i am then i realize i'm lost. or i have to be somewhere and i'm rushing towards a destination that i realize has vanished from my mind. i'm utterly uncertain about everything. i find that this sense of sudden amnesia bleeds over into my waking hours as well. i'm going up my staircase at home for example and i realize that i've forgotten which room i'm supposed to enter and what i'm supposed to do once i've entered it. is this a result of my still sore jaw? a nerve that has been jangled in my head from the root canal? my only reprieve lately has been eating creamy cold rice pudding after a long walk in the woods. i feel comforted, almost restored, as i ladle the sweet eggy, milky concoction down my throat, my skin still smelling like the sun washed breezes blown through pine trees and wildflowers. i find a cockleburr on my pant leg and then it all comes back. there is no where else to be but in that moment of rhythm on the nature trail, looking at the cloudless sky, the crickets and the geese overhead, the wind dancing around my body, the soft footpath ahead and no glance backwards.
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