In the morning, I awoke to sawdust and sea breezes. I was building a boat by the calm waters. The sun was shining. I was looking at the tool in my hand. My fingers were laced, gentle, around it, well manicured but weathered, seeking only the finest of the physical pleasures. I was not happy, rather contented in how I had come to this place. I was no longer a slave to the future, nor harbored in the shelter of past. I felt no longer a sense of loss, I was empty and I was full.


let's look at this year in time::::looking::::looking:::::looking:::::::

confused.
loss.
sublimation.
defenses.
adagios.
calm into the ground.
deep breath.
extend.
loss.
confused.
pain.
defenses.
breaking.
softening.
wondering.
puzzled.
frustration.
deep breath.
words.
loss.
deep breath.
words.
loss.
deep breath.
anger.
paint.
paint.
paint.
fresh, winter air.
sublimation.
adagios.
extension.
attempted release.




i woke up this morning to this song on the radio:::

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lLJf9qJHR3E



I cannot help but wonder what happened with this year. I have never felt so alive and I have never felt so much pain. I have never witnessed so much blatant fear within myself. I have never been so brave. I have never allowed myself to feel this much. I have never allowed myself to get so close to two people and have them both...go.

I wonder if it is something I should write about, as it is so real to me. It clenches my very heart and rips it down into my stomach. I am weakened, I am not a person, I am an amoeba that is feeling with strange tentacles out into the universe.

I twinge between right and wrong. Things happened. I started to care for other persons outside myself. Is this maturation? I don't know when to forgive and when to forget, when to cling and when to let go. It is all such a mess. I want to do what is "best", but "best" seems to have so many psychological attachments to it, strings, etc. Sitting here, with the newest year steadily approaching, I know nothing of what I thought I knew this time last year.

All I know is that my heart beats deeper, fuller, rounder, and that maybe with time, I will come to some sort of balance, some understanding, of the physics of relation to the other. My current trend is pushing, deeper, digging farther, only to enable honest release and further extension. I notice a difference---
one break had healing qualities
one break had destructive qualities

and it is in the forces of conversation and communication that collide that leaves one freedom and fullness from the break.

otherwise, the walls, the icy conundrum of dispersed feelings becomes cause for confusion and feelings of inexplicable loss.

It's like, when a loved one passes and you have time to say goodbye, there is a sense of healing involved. A death unwarned, is a thorn in every part of the body, a heaving of sorrow on a spring bed in Vermont, a silent October night in an apartment.

A non communicative break of connection, relation, and feeling is just another death, a thorn in every part of the body, a heaving of sorrow on a June linen.




towards an honest and witty, heartfelt and rational:




(((((two thousand and eleven.)))))





K

books, mountains and the unfailing french press.

((((((((((reading a good book has this impressive ability to make one softer and more alert.

similar to the after affects of just having summited an east coast mountain.)))))))))))




things recently noted or passed through the cerebral cortex:

yesterday I met with an acquaintance of mine at La Colombe (the cafe of hours long discourse as it produces only the best) I wouldn't quite call her an acquaintance, but a rare individual with whom I can meet and sit after not seeing for six months and delve into the most depth of analysis. She shared with me a story of a trip upon which she had gone. A trip that I took three years ago. Most of the story was curdled up around a particular person and the effect this person had on her throughout her travels. We discussed the power of strange connection with another. The kind that stems from an unexplicable source. As if there is a direct pathway between two, yes, I will say it, souls that arches upward and over the constructs of space and time. We disliked having to admit the possibility of other lives, other means of having connected.

We discussed how these connections have no reason attached to them. That is, no reason from the functioning of the current worldy ebb and flow. Rather, the reason has some foreign taste to it, and yet an all too familiar ring. Like that place, the one you've never been to before. That person, whom you've seemingly known them for a very long time has just entered the room.

Intuitively, we know these people. Yet, as our intuition becomes clouded, these ethereal connections don't have the ability to be cultivated. Or they are temporary and fleeting. Either way, they do not fit in with the individualized strain of survival via Western world.

All of this may seem a bit hookey. As I write it out, I feel it hookey too. And yet, there have been times that I have known things as if they were codes in my DNA. About a person, about a place, and I think there's power to it. A power that I have very little courage to explore, and for that matter even taste. I've been hurt by this power, once, twice, maybe more, because it is not well received and sometimes, in order to survive, I need to ignore it. Or think I need to ignore it.

but there it is, in literature, stories, those who not only entertained this power, but were awash in it. I'm drawn to these stories, I'm drawn to these characters. I'm drawn to the few people I meet who seem to have embellished this power and made it their very nourishment and survival.




this may or may not make sense.


on a more level headed note-

focus is achieved through focus

I hate most of the clothes in my closet

and

NEED A HAIRCUT.




GOODBYE.

the hawk

there was a hawk perched upon a Sycamore branch after school.



It was one of the most majestic things I have yet to witness.