origami folds itself

origami folds itself into tiny cranes. 

i write words on them, and they fly away. 

i don't generally pray, but i've got one that's been right beneath the surface for most of my life. so then discipline. i feel like thom yorke right now. 

nothing surprising, from this mix up of the pacific ocean, nasturtiums and trash. 

dream series, raman/a, teacher dying right before our eyes

it's strange having a new kind of dream. witness, we see, the old man stands at a distance before us, facing us, and [decides to die ]

his body fades, greys, almost as if burning, darkening, a strange special effect.

later i'm reminded of a friend i've lost touch with, named after a teacher.

so, then banks. contrast, and mood. hormones and spider stories, and a spaciousness, effortless, still sad, still beautiful.

everything is still beautiful.

microdosing, my love is peace

my love is peace.
my love is peace.
my love is peace.

an exercise in imagination.

as if...

and then what happened?

the empty box.

pee wee hermaneutics. - montouri, 2015

guys, guys

bow to this life

surrender

life comes through you. let it. let it go. you are love. all is healed

who am i

i am sensory awareness

love does

this thing about expanding itself

at first i thought perhaps i had to change or control or hide or constrain my care for people 

to make room for the one who holds my heart

but, going instinctually i find that the more i love and cherish my people, the more my heart grows

and the more i love and cherish my people, the more they love and cherish me back

so that's pretty wow

and

also, furthermore, in consequence... dot dot dot colon i dont know if splaining the consequence is necessary here. i just like words that indicate there is something more

in other words

from the love

i feel like i inhabit you

when i find you in the bed in the morning

i feel your heart beating

the curl of your lip

how it contains galaxies 

and wonder

this sweetness

that infuses everything

like a drop of omnipotent wine spilled in an ocean

love is

love is the way your body feels

when you imagine touch

when you hold your energy in your first chakra

when your lungs expand and fill with breath

love is the way a smile hits your mouth 

and your eyes 

when you remember what

love feels like

the soft rhythm of soul

a beat

listen to my heartbeat*

love is even in the footstep of an angry lover

and the slamming of a door

when colored light fills the sky 

or hits a surface just so

in the brilliance of shell, of wings

flight

love is the heart, tickle 

when the object of love is present, 

a glance, and the muscle

the way a tear drop warms your cheek

it's the wind

leaves rustling

water flowing

the scent of an ocean, rock

in a cocktail decorated with nasturtium

twist ties

glitter, metal, smiley face, laughter, lint, broken glass

the stranger who elicits what you've lost and what you long for

it's the shape of a word, the stroke of a brush on paper, a note held by horn, brass bowl, keyboard, voice

it's birth, acceptance, holding the hand of the dying, forgiveness and allowing what is

*http://youtu.be/o5gcq-ELi-U

skip ad

http://youtu.be/KsMFwnxFv1E

stop. and experience the blessing.

discussion tonight was around how we tend not to stop much to notice. that our minds and our bodies want to do and think and move and distract, from the quiet stillness of our effortless being. without further ado, invite you to stop. put this away, you have permission.

in presence, you are free.

ready for love

india arie

autobiographical facebook criticism

"she was callous with her beauty

and brutal with current events."

a madman drive a truck into a crowd, with a gun drawn. read, madman. the picture showed a flaming eiffel tower. she posted in reply, a picture of a deadly nightshade flower. and her comment was, and in other news...

give me a being to love

my friend from college, we lost touch, but one time she sent a card notifying of the birth of her child, maybe second, and she said 'give me a being to love.'

i just thought that was poignant and beautiful.

there is no time

iwhen are you coming back? she says.

"he fed us words like baby birds. beauty in lines. brightly colored strips of rhymes.

strong calves, tanned flip flopped toes, big petite nose.

oh dad, i remember when you held me close and i could hear your watch go tick tick tick in my ears. and i cried for us, our time, our years.

always trying to prove that he's not toothless. where do we go now that we are ruthless?"

commentary: where does ruth stop and we begin? trick question, as ministers might be prone to do. they are ordained. we change when reverence becomes our way.

when I was young I never thought

http://youtu.be/XzV7FiuDYKo

that I would be living alone and finding Yoko Ono

art, art, and more art

robert larson, my friend from high school
found object collage. all he dedicates himself too, and his wife.

i think i should rename my blog 'the art of self absorption' (unfinished, 2013)

i think i should rename my blog 'the art of self absorption'

but i never doubted i was loved

dream series; cat, elephant oxford comma and super humans

what does it mean to dream quietly of a dog leaning into you lovingly like only dogs can?
what does it mean to dream of a small white dog jumping and biting you?
what does it mean to dream of holding your cat on your lap on top of elephante the stuffed animal your mom got you before you grew out of stuffed animals while your dear ghanaian friend turns into a silver haired super human with silver grey eyes?

as you know, i value the dreamworlds. rich. restful. possible.

*we are creatures of air. out roots in dreams, and clouds. reborn in flight.

good bye.*

*salman rushdie

hey girl!