PHOSPHORIMENTAL

Love is an ever unfolding friendship:  Consumed the by the most poignant and desirous lessons of love, we speak of endless unfolding as we wrap around each other in this inextricable embrace.  Falling in love is not the closing of doors or a narrowing of path, but a tremendous expansion.  I think we experience love both as individuals, and in the mysterious blend of “oneness.”

Thirsty, but afraid to drink:  We are intoxicated  by the other’s outpouring of words – a cathartic release of those thoughts and remembrances that comprise the fear and apprehension of our past.  Strange that as we release our fears and open ourselves to possibility, it is another fear that tries to fill the open space.  What is brilliant is that we know this – and somehow, find comfort with its shared awareness.  I like sometimes being unable to question expression before it springs forth; it’s good to know that some things come naturally.   Even with the euphoric effects of love, we are sobered by the immenseness of discovery.

Impetuous romancers.  Many of us must seem so misguided to those that would prefer we be on their path; and that is the irony.  The guidance of others is, indeed, someone else’s guidance!  We want “us” tremendously – and as lovers, each should choose this – and so with every “I love you so” they push open a gate even wider for the other; each also open to the possibilities left by both certainty and doubt.

Cool, Sad, Odd, Choices:  A life chosen alone, cannot be experienced together.  But cool that choices made together, can be experienced alone.  Sad that we are sometimes afraid to believe in gifts presented through spirit.  And even more odd that our individual choices can seem small and alone without the company of pragmatism; the logical and not-so-independent guidance and views of others.  Our choices are our paths; they have run up along side each other.  They blend, overlap, weave, and as indistinguishable as they are at times, I still believe there are three; “yours, mine, ours.”  There is also, “theirs.”

Undeserved explorers.  Knee to knee we huddle and kiss and breath each other at a wobbly café table, stabilized at the base by sugar packets – clairvoyants asking questions not because we don’t know the answers, but because we love to hear the other say it.  We asked what is it we want in life with, for, from another.  “Here, let me help you with that answer,” like sharing succulent morsels from a tour de force presented on bone china, garnished with delicious accessories…soulful stares, caressing touch, flowing features.  We speak of that which we have together until we are no longer deserved. Love and fear are race companions, running out in front of the other – trading the lead position on the journey of discovery.  Our lives, our love, are like sugar packets; shims of stability in an unfolding world that never stops being explored.

The paradox of gradual emergence and submergence.  It is confusing to face where we are with each other, because we are forever coming from the past, and it is that to which we find reference and relativity.  This washes up against a future that rides in on a steed of words penned and spoken from the heart.

tis nothing if not heard

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Interesting – as everything is coming into the harbor and some things will make it to their slips, others will crash against the rocks, others will just turn around and head back out to sea. Meanwhile, all is adrift. Yesterday I was down – I had just these memories; like an old box of Crayola crayons smeared down to their paper wrapping, I can’t seem to make a picture.

Job change/no confirmation, kids on the cusp of a wave that will take them away from me, what I thought was for keeps is drifting off, my youth giving way to desires to just go home and nap, my wishing I could just talk my way into a stupor but knowing that I don’t want to hurt anyone (even for the most harmless reason). I just want to go home – and to be honest, I have none…

So I get on a jet and I go to Oz and toast with old mates, I’ll hang out in Pattaya and long to call back the mysteries I see; I’ll dream through a jungle in Costa Rica and picture you complaining with a backpack on, I’ll go to Brazil and see my children and a mother I love running through the surf.

I just bought an international phone today – I’m sure the messages from Asia will rain down on my hopes and lost friends in the West. One day, I wonder if I should just not return and find a girl, settle down, marry, have children – but home is forever a horizon for me. I just need someone to slap the living shit out of me – beat me into sub-consciousness, hand me a Corona, kiss me on the forehead and tell me everything is all right now.

Money, ego, longing…Christ. What is this all about! Why is the bitter/sweet more sweet than bitter?
Tonight – laundry, finish the three half empty bottles of wine in my fridge – pray to stay awake long enough for a walk in my neighborhood with my faithful dog Memory, tugging at the leash, just the now and then clacking sound of its drunken footsteps; as the clothes tumble in the dryer.

tis nothing if not heard

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