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My sense of trust was dislodged early last year. Intent on rediscovering optimism, I selected a smoky quartz from a collection, drawn to it by surface scratches, honoring imperfection. Smooth to the touch, translucent and shadowy, it’s imbued with the earth’s radiant energy and absorbs the warmth of my body. A faithful companion.
It’s when I hold it up to the light that I witness the intelligence inside. Shadows giving way to memories in suspended animation, a neural network splayed…..
“Politics is the art of preventing people from taking part in affairs which properly concern them.”
We have executive agencies, legislative bodies, judicial courts, impregnable forts, appeal and retrial, motion denial, filibuster, full of bluster, stifling bureaucracy, where is the democracy?
Politicians take center stage, the media fraught with rage
twitter barrage, fairness a mirage, libel, label, capitalist, socialist, special interest lobbyist, corruption, obstruction, impeachment fights, network delights, deflection, misdirection, it’s all about the election, quid pro quo, long live…..
I have two indelible marks. One a circumstance of nature, a birthmark on my right thigh. Visible and unusual. A genetic marker. The second mark born of wonder and despair, seared on my soul, a question asked with an elusive answer. Invisible and mystical. A magic marker.
So I write my life’s story with this marker, seeking understanding, honoring experience, placing ego aside, befriending the darkness, the eyes of a seven year old boy once wide with fear softening, finding…..
I wind my dad’s watch every morning. It was running five minutes fast since I returned from recording sessions, alerting me to slow down. Wanting to share lots of news, seemingly too soon. The true meaning of events unclear while in their midst.
Questioning my path forward, thinking that maybe there’s a new format, two years of blogging that has morphed into 100 word stories too restrictive, interlacing a haiku from my books too confining, every two weeks too rigid…..
I am an unfinished story. Silent, numb, unsettled, too many ideas confusing me. Now sensing that there’s a story in not telling a story. I have stopped trying. The only rhythm quiet whispered breathing. Unspoken truth, unwritten words, holding space for whatever may unfold. It’s uncomfortable, disquieting, humbling. Not a feeling of failure, rather a sense of relief, an honest moment. Stories waiting to be told whose time has yet to come. Not forcing myself to do something, but rather…..
I feel the pull of time. The overflow and the undertow. Urgent, patient, unpredictable, dependable, disarming, alarming, relentless, endless, shifting, drifting, chaotic, exotic. A playground for potential.
I become lost amid the stardust. Memories of maddening possibilities, missed opportunities, a stone unturned, a lesson unlearned. Wistful, wishful, imploring, exploring, quirks of fate, it’s not too late.
I find myself at the cusp of time. Vanishing horizon, vanquishing illusion, insistent inner voice, a fateful choice, leaving a lover, returning to love…..
I write in meditation. Sometimes beginning with an intention, other times looking for guidance. Words appearing and disappearing, detaching, trusting, allowing the process to unfold.
I move to my desk. I travel through the dictionary on a word search, words leading to other words, unclear about where the story is going. Doing the work. Getting lost. Frustration. Tension.
Point of inflection, candid reflection, inspiration, exhilaration, insistent message, persistent passage, culling through words that I chose, cutting beautiful prose, artistic prowess,…..
I hang my head in deference
racial division, sexual derision, religious persecution, fairness an illusion, shadows in the night, hiding in plain sight, inconspicuous, obvious.
I turn my head from pretense
fashionable cachet, elite cadre, superior attitudes, spouting platitudes, material health, worshipping wealth, conspicuous, oblivious.
I shake my head with impatience
conscientious objection, defying convention, litmus test, non-violent protest, whistle blower, hemp grower.
I look ahead for guidance
…..
Open and vulnerable, faith impregnable, audible hum, inner sanctum, rarefied air, everywhere
hushed worship, kindred friendship, reverence, deference, soulful exploration, our alien nation.
Stealth bomber, resolute killer, waves of darkness, consuming madness, indignation, alienation
bullets raining, muscles straining, voices screaming, live streaming, diving for cover, saying goodbye to a lover.
Wrought, distraught, resolve toughening, hearts hardening, an I for an I, wondering why
remembrance, vengeance, unending, unrelenting, void of emotion, returning to devotion
prayers beseeching, thoughts far-reaching, surprising light, disarming…..
I have a number, my tax identity. The government has a tax code, unquestionable authority. Withholding taxes from every paycheck, demanding estimated payments. What do they know, how much do they think I owe?
So every year I gather my documents and mail a package to my accountant for a full accounting. Back and forth for missing information, clarification, confirmation. And then to me for approval. How am I to know?
Forms and schedules and statements interconnected, fear of miscalculation,…..
