Saturday, April 18, 2015

The Rapture



You can keep God's Wrath
and every small-minded
misguided lesson about sin.
I could never learn to love
an angry, judgmental, absentee Father
the way I've so deeply cherished
our tender, nurturing Mother.
'Cause even when I was young
squinting at the world
through a child's eyes
I knew in my bones:
Earth is the only paradise
we've any hope to call our home.
And the only Rapture
waiting for me
is a delirious instinctual calling
from some soft
patch of ground  
an insistent tug
the ache
then falling.
In these moments
It is useless to
Argue with the Mother
I just slip into her arms and
listen for lullabies.
 

Thursday, October 30, 2014

October Leaves Me Longing


The horizon 
Is a lake of fire
Billowing waves rolling and cresting
Lifting and crashing. 
It is no small wonder 
Anyone or anything 
Endures this month long inferno 
And emerges on the other side
Alive. As far as I can tell, 
Even the most stoic among us 
Are challenged 
Are changed.
 
Smooth green to golden yellow 
Vermillion, crimson, 
Then burnt, crunchy, and brown.
I am walking through a battlefield;
The sidewalks are littered
With the corpses of leaves,
Yet the air manages 
To smell so sweet and light.
Dearly departed, how I long 
For a death 
That might approximate 
The smell, of
This burning consummation,
This arboreal orchestration.

But, in the end
October leaves me longing, 
When I am confronted
With window panes
Wetter than my eyelids.
Forcibly squinting through 
To glimpse
Shamelessly naked trees and
Luscious greys that infuse 
The few lingering,
Precious scraps of 
Living beings.



Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Choices, Consequences, Changes...Be at Peace With Your Story



The following is a true story, and it starts off with some pretty awful circumstances. I know because I was there...

10 years ago I tried to kill myself. It wasn't overtly dramatic, or perhaps even all that obvious to others around me. Or, even to myself. But, it was a slow-burn; an incessant chipping away at my vitality by refusing to treat my body with care and respect.

2003-2004 was the culmination of a long sweeping, gradually intensifying period of treating my body like a garbage can. Among the worst of the offenses I rendered unto my flesh on a daily basis included: purging  (bulimia) after every meal, smoking Newport 100 cigarettes, and drinking up to 3 liters of soda -- those three actions are just the top of a much longer list of bad choices.

Other ways that I did not care for myself seemed much more benign at the time -- not drinking much water, eating veggies 2 maybe 3 times a week but carb-loading constantly at meals, and exercising very sporadically (like going to the gym every other day for 2 weeks, and then not at all for 2 months).  In retrospect, these choices were just as detrimental to my health and well-being as the more drastic measures of self-harm I was involved in.

While engaged in these behaviors I was constantly tired, weak, frequently shaky/jittery, experiencing an almost constant "gut-rot" feeling, frequent heartburn, numbness/tingling in my hands, shortness of breath, dizziness, and feelings of detachment from the present moments I was living. I was 19-20 years old, and my body (my life) was a complete train-wreck.
...

A vision of masculine beauty and tender strength, with piercing aqua eyes and shining vitality entered my painful, limping existence in 2005. John helped me remember and experience sheer, unencumbered joy and wonder. He seemed to move so effortlessly, and live so comfortably in his skin.

Like all of life's most valuable teachers, he lead by example. John ate what his body required -- even on a shoestring budget, or via campus meals, he consistently made balanced food decisions. He drank water, almost no soda or caffeine. And, he walked, ran, climbed trees, or biked as often as possible. He didn't insist that I choose healthier options for my own body, but he made them seem like the more attractive path.

If debate arose during our meal preparations, he frequently answered my questions or contentions or complaints with solid reasoning. And, if I showed hesitation, he was willing to hold my hand. He was patient, loving, and we got through it together. I was emotionally and psychologically worn out from self-imposed withering years that should have been full of the most exquisite sort of bloom, so I began to attempt to thrive. 

One brief example I remember: I did not ever eat peppers or onions until I met him and we started living together. The texture of those vegetables scared me. It sounds silly now, but I refused to eat them for over 2 decades. While eating our first cooked meals with these items, I gagged several times. Initially, the taut but fleshy surface of the pepper, and the ridged, filmy layers of the onion were difficult to swallow. They felt awkward in my mouth, but they tasted so good, and offered many different ways to be eaten! I persevered in my quest to slowly expand my vegetable repertoire, and those are now two staple items in my fridge; among many other vegetables and fruits that I had never even tasted before.
...

The road to recovery, to health and wellness, and to enjoying nourishing foods has been long and rocky and sometimes unpleasant. But, it has also been some of the most rewarding and pleasurable work that I've chosen to engage. Some days I cry and whine, make poor choices, and scream aloud in frustration. But, little by little and bit by bit I am learning how to truly and deeply love myself; to be at peace with my story.

I sit here typing this as an almost wholly different person from who I was 10 years ago. Now, I have my own successful business, just completed 440 consecutive days of dancing and yoga (with no end in sight), and am making a very promising effort to eat nutritious meals and healthy drinks every day. But, I know with every fiber of my being, that I MUST CHOOSE to make my goals, dreams, and desires my reality. And, I must work every.damn.day. towards those ends.

We are made or broken by what we choose; find happiness and joy or lack thereof. We decide what and how the journey will be. We determine our own individual fate through choices, consequences, and changes. 

  

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Incomplete Equations




In a fevered pitch
Compelled to probe the
Far and deep corners of my mouth
Explore the roof
Of this house
If I was brave
Forgot all fears
Maybe I could fly
But the shadows are formed
And linger with their stories
Teeth grating warnings

Moving molasses
Minus a pulse
Plus the sky
A shroud that I cannot shake
Clingy, draped, like
You just took her virginity
But we are not capable
Of being sweaty, vulnerable, 
Aching lovers equal to 
The shiver from energy to matter

I'm no mathematician,
But this requires summation:
Swallow boundaries and
Embrace what is incomplete


Thursday, August 22, 2013

Reciprocity




Trees drop their leaves
Like a body ridding itself
Of some terrible, beautiful disease.

I envy them both
This brief and wild dance
Of a summer's pace --
That lapses into
Fall's fiery parting.

When the leaves rattle and shake
Their rage rendered visible
In explosions of color. Their
Desire to remain attached
Is palpable. They seem
Unwilling, as yet, to "move on" --
To depart from beloved trees.

Jealous, as they are,  to
Share those same branches
With winter's embrace;  who
Would weigh them down,
Clinging, lounging, coating
The stiffened limbs.
Claiming every inch of
The scarred, crooked boughs.

Because leaves have worked
Tirelessly in their golden season
To nurture these bark-covered beings,
And learn to speak the soft,
Lovely language embodied in
The wisdom of reciprocity.

It is not in the leaving
That we should be
Brought to shed tears,
But the aftermath of
Desolation, the stillness --
The arrival of that
Deep, quiet, lonely season
Which initiates our fears.