Thank you for being a touchstone at every point in my life. You appear in more of my favourite movies than any other actor. You consistently choose films and characters that offer insight and range; you are completely your characters and completely yourself. You work with your brother which leads me to think you have genuine affection, which warms my heart and gives me hope. You seem like a person who cares deeply and also doesn't give two fucks, which attracts me like honey. I would know your voice anywhere, I pick it out all the time, and it's like a little gift, a reminder that you're out there, in the world, existing and creating beauty and curiosity around you just by existing, every time you unexpectedly show up. I even kind of remember you in movies that you weren't in, but should have been. I can reimagine every movie I've ever seen, and every movie I ever will see, with you in it. You always belong. I love that you're real.
Friday, December 10, 2021
Friday, October 29, 2021
Sometimes I catch the mirror
Thursday, October 28, 2021
Sunday, October 10, 2021
|Bill Murray (CAI 2021)|
Dear Bill Murray,
I saw you in the latest Netflix thing and what occurred to me is, you're getting old. Like me, I'm getting old, I just started a little later. But I was struck by the realization that you will live your whole life and never know me. I never really thought about that before, that you might die never having known me at all. It's too bad, but it's the way of things. I think you would have gotten a kick out of me, if you knew me; that the way you would have seen me, and my work, would have brought a unique and important energy to whatever I do next. It might have made up for some of the things I don't know about you, that still hang heavy. I think the pride you would have felt to be part of me and my doings would be worth taking to the grave, despite your many other amazing life experiences. I think that knowing me as a person on Earth would make life feel more complete. And of course, just being known deeply by me is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But it's already too late. Getting to know me takes many years and not insignificant effort, and even then, trust builds in shared doing. Do we have many years left? No. And they are already pretty spoken for with previous commitments and callings. I'm afraid we don't have time to build the bond of knowing deeply. That time passed without either of us noticing. You will always miss me, until your dying day, never knowing what you are missing. Meeting me now would do you no good - it might make matters worse, at this point. A meeting between a celebrity, a fan? It degrades what's possible. You might think what you see is me, and walk away mistaken that you know me. You might die thinking you'd met me, and I was nothing special. Better to die having never met me at all.
With warm regards,
(listen: Happy Rhodes, the Issue)
P.S. It occurs to me that this letter isn't to you, at all. It's to the whole world. Or myself.
Monday, October 4, 2021
Friday, June 11, 2021
|(creator not identified, found this on https://www.change.org/p/carolyn-bennett-o-canada-our-home-s-on-native-land)|
You must deal with the truth of Canada’s nature and relationship with the First Peoples. From killing Old Growth forests to missing and murdered women, from residential "school” to prisons where too many of the First Peoples are confined, from poisoned drinking water to eroded territories, from the RCMP to the OPP, I've barely begun the list. The truth is that our entire economy and society was never paid for, and can't be paid for. Subjugation and eradication haven't done their evil job, the First People are still standing, asking for the partnerships we promised. We are no longer the brutal people who first peopled this land. We know better. Know better, do better.
We can't do land acknowledgments and then arrest land defenders. We can’t pollute drinking water and not provide drinking water. We can’t claim respect and absolve their murderers and abusers. Canada should be a land of integrity.
Two things you can do right now:
1) Call off the RCMP from Fairy Creek.
2) Find all the bodies of children murdered by the insane residential system, and do something about it.
Then, enact every recommendation from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission Report http://www.trc.ca/. Take every first and next step possible. And then the next. For as long as it takes.
Canada is amazing, but I can't feel proud of my country because of these failures. We need to get on with the hard work of building a partnership with our environment and our First Peoples so that seven generations from now, our descendants are still here.
Maybe in a few generations we can heal the wounds and build trust, but not until we start. The first step is to acknowledge a pattern of behaviour that is not working and is, ultimately, killing us. It's time to get healthier. Be honest, be clear. June is Indigenous History month. We can never fix the past, but there's plenty to do in the present.
Tuesday, May 18, 2021
The entire world economy is currently worth $87.55 trillion dollars. There are only 87.5 trillions in our entire world economy. Please note:
Jeff Bezos is the richest man in the world with a net worth of $107.1 billion. will be the first billionaire to become a trillionaire in 2026 at the age of 62.
Xu Jiayin will be the second billionaire to turn a trillionaire in 2027 at the age of 68.
Jack Ma, will be the third man to hit one trillion Dollars net worth in 2030, at the age of 65.
Ma Huateng, also known as the Pony Ma, will become a trillionaire by the time he’s 61 years old in 2033.
Mukesh Ambani, is expected to hit one trillion by 2033 by which time he will be 75 years old.
Bernard Arnault will probably become a trillionaire by 2032 at 84 years old.
Mark Zuckerberg will be the youngest person to make a trillion at the age of 51 years in 2036.
Steve Ballmer, former CEO of Microsoft, is also set to hit a trillion in 2040 when he will be 83 years old.
Michael Dell will have made his first trillion by 2043 by when he will be 78 years old.
Larry Page and Sergey Brin are both set to hit $1 trillion by 2051 at the age of 77 years.
That's 11. Of 87.5. Owned by 11 guys in our lifetime. In their lifetime. And forever after tied in inheritance, never again part of the world economy the rest of us share. We're down to the last pass on the Monopoly Board and there are only about a dozen people on Earth who will win if we keep letting the systems run us.
(source: Business Insider India, October 3, 2019, "Here’s how long it will take the world’s richest billionaires to become trillionaires.")
Tuesday, March 16, 2021
|Unfinished & Tangled: A self portrait (CAI 2020)|
I am not disposable.
But maybe I am. I guess I am.
I haven't earned the right to know where I stand
to trust where I stand
I haven't earned the true esteem of a friend
When people look at me they see
what? not much. Not much here to see, to be
If I try to share what's here, I impose
If I don't, I withhold
and it's not very interesting, anyway
Never enough, always too much
Alone, in the end,
even among friends
Sunday, February 21, 2021
|(strange bird created by CD Good)|
On our first day here, we saw a fox
large and orange and confident, trotting, just off
in the distance, and I thought,
we are closer to nature
we will have to watch the pets, I thought
but in the silence since
no animal has crossed my line of sight
all is quiet, day and night
save one, rare crow who sometimes shows his wings
flying off, he sings a croaking taunt my way
saying, see, you are alone
you are alone
Sunday, February 7, 2021
I understand that hope can ask too much
how comforting to sink back, let demands
float away, spend the days
I see it's not just easier; sometimes it's life saving
to forget to try, just wait to die
reduce yourself to the basics.
When effort falls flat what inspires more effort?
When trying draws judgement but not support, when doing takes energy from precious stores
When experience tells us the prize will cost more
than it's worth
abandoning hope can be a warm blanket safe haven
a kind of birth
free, finally, from the strain always striving suck me dry try try try
treadmill hamster-wheel life of strife hanging on by broken nails
the carrot always miles
I see why, today, you might decide despair is a better friend
and in the end
I can't disagree, even though I see there's something lost in translation
I can't shake your ambition free; it's hard enough to do it
Friday, January 29, 2021
|A gash in the sky|
knicked open clumsily
Friday, January 8, 2021
|Frozen in Place (CAI2020)|
I thought that I would matter
But I don’t
I thought my words would gather
But they don’t
I thought I’d be important, a person who decides
I thought that people would be drawn to the truths I’d write
I thought my life would keep unfolding with the next surprise
But it won’t.
I thought the years held promise
But they don’t
I thought my dreams would fly
But they won’t
I thought that hopes and effort could give my visions life
I thought that recognition would reciprocally arrive
I thought the world would see me in my wonder if I tried
But it won’t.
Unfolding years resign me to the loss and dread and fear
Try again? Why try again?
To speak when no one hears
No spark, no lift
Each try falls flat, depleting precious stores
Hope recedes unyielding as failure takes its course
Do or don’t, whatever, it never was a choice.
I thought one day I’d matter
But I don’t
I thought my works would gather
But they don’t
I thought I’d bring some clarity, and people would respond
I thought my tribe would find me and together we’d expand
I thought the world would strive for peace and I would take its hand
But we won’t.
Wednesday, December 9, 2020
|The Grey Zone (CAI 2020)|
I enjoy meat. I hate eating dead animals. I love sugar and cheese. I hate being overweight.
What a funny pergatorial planet, where everything is available but all of it bad for you, except what's good for you but unappealing. That's just its nature. I mustn't let it bother me so.
Integrity's balance doesn't mean the oppositions are balanced equally, and it also doesn't have to mean choosing to exclusion. Integrity can sway, swing, lean in a direction. It must, to offset and create movement. Otherwise we just teeter in place until we fall.
Thursday, December 3, 2020
I get tired when people warn that you can't guarantee a base level income because people will get used to "sucking at the teat" and won't work. I believe they believe that, but it doesn't matter because they are hypocrites. Those with significant means have been sucking at the teat of other people's desperation, need, skill, talent, and knowledge for all of capitalism's reign. They just don't want to share it. The whole point of the entire miserable, exacting, system is to improve the quality of life. Create stability and prosperity. Allow for the pursuit of one's purpose or, dare we, happiness. That's why we, as a society, agreed to it all in the first place. Lots of us never agreed. Now, finally, automation is here, but instead of increasing our pay and decreasing our hours, you're just dumping us wholesale or finding all new ways to exploit us. No, un uh, that's not how this works. Social benefit commensurate to profit. As the common resource owners controlled by a government of resource stewards, we stand entitled to dividends through wealth taxes and limitations on corporate profits, returned to us as cash to do with as we see fit. If we want to work hard for the system, we will, because humans are work and play animals. They work when they find work they want to do, or work that matters to them that needs doing. If we want to earn enough for a "better life" however we define it, we can. But if we're going to build an entire economy based on exploitation with the promise that we are working towards equitable opportunity for all, Canada and then, beyond, at least some of those profits need to create the kind of stability that lets humans feel peaceful enough to avoid intoxicants, seek education and purpose, take care of each other and themselves, and participate without fear that failure to accept exploitative practices could put all of that in jeopardy. It's only a pipedream because the people in charge choose to make it so, and the vast majority don't question the systems or choose to push governments to provide a minimum standard, because they think that the "freeloaders" will suck at the teat. And around we go. You'd think that it's about time some of the freeloading went around, that hard working people got more than just hard work, fear and promises. But time is funny, because it never does seem to be time, and suddenly we live in the world of opposite, where people refuse to accept it when what's good for them is also good for everyone, and that it goes both ways. The species is doomed to repeat the same tragic patterns, every generation in its own way. In a system designed to funnel most of the resources out of the system and into a special, VIP space where a few have everything and more, while the rest struggle and devolve, we have come improbably far, an improbably high number of times in human history, and that is a hope I hold tight.
One thing today in this direction, check in on myself for where I limit my imagination of what's possible on Earth by what has been built by evil men.
Is that all I can do? Probably not, but it's one thing.
Sunday, October 18, 2020
Friday, October 2, 2020
Saturday, September 19, 2020
Wednesday, July 29, 2020
Monday, May 25, 2020
Most days I just look away from it
that my efforts are worse than waste
because they cost more than nothing would have cost
took more than nothing would have taken
and gave nothing back that I wanted
just pain and futility and more certainty that whatever I try
will end the say way
and I can try to see it from another angle
I can tell myself another story and turn my cheek but it doesn't matter
because the ends are the ends
the means remain unjustified
and I'm not even sure what I'm doing here
in the end
I can't remember what I was thinking
to have tried and tried again
I reach back to myself and find only an empty
a story full of plot holes and pointless, endless dialogue
saying nothing at all.
I can't even feel sorry for her, that me
she invites my disdain more than my pity
why did she ever think
anything she did might matter?
how much delusion did she eat for breakfast every day?
of sugar-coated sand.
Don't try to reassure me
I mean, what's the point?
But you won't. Anyway.
Because there's no reassurance to explain away the facts
there's no story that makes it all fine with me.
It's not fine with me.
The good bits and pieces don't counteract my failure.
The idea it was a choice
is the farce
that deflates all attempts, in any case.
I'm not even allowed to feel what I feel
while there's something to cling to, some consolation to grasp
to invalidate this knowing and let you feel comfortable saying that
even though, I think on some level you know,
I'm not wrong at all.
Saturday, April 18, 2020
How long has Hope made me wait in line
for a turn that was never mine to take?
how many times has she beguiled my mind
to build another house of cards to break?
caressed my heart, relaxed my guard
led me down the garden path again
to trip and tumble over cliffs of pain?
Now she scratches at my door
crying, my dear, I'm sorry
you must admit,
you have only yourself to blame.
Thursday, April 9, 2020
|The Grief of Loss of What I Never Had (CAI2019)|
Overblown and underwhelming
what comes through me, into reality
bears little resemblance
filtered by pretentious words and inadequate skill
into bits and pieces too heavy for the wind to carry
too heavy to float
sinking to the bottom, mired and drowned
but even so, still, too light to hold meaning down.
My silly gifts revert to impositions of confusion
suspicion, a twist of discomfort that forgets its name.
Again, and again.
Better, maybe, better to be still
swallow the bitter pill and let it
gag the truth before it spills through my clumsy hands.
Wednesday, April 8, 2020
Tuesday, April 7, 2020
Monday, April 6, 2020
Saturday, March 28, 2020
Thank you, Mother, for the lesson they can't ignore
A warning, clear and stern
with no wiggle room for doubt
thank you for the lightness of the sentence
a lesson, not a punishment,
thank you for sending us home
for tearing so many holes, all at once
so we have no choice but to stop
Father, please protect us
keep us well and safe and warm
loved and sheltered from the storm
a wish for all
a wish for life
May I fortify my best
may I pass this test of my humanity
flying with the colours
being with the memory
Friday, March 20, 2020
|Indefinite Wisdome (CAI 2019)|
Saturday, March 7, 2020
|Too Subtle (CAI 2019)|
As I prepare to attend an International Women's Day Conference where there are many speakers I find interesting and admire, I have a confession to make: I secretly hate inspirational talks.
And also, I would not speak there.
I am not so jealous of the Fabulous Women because they get to speak and be heard. I am jealous because they get to be so brave and motivated that they can do it. I can't remember the last time I felt that way, like I could tackle something like wrapping my knowledge into an interesting present for the world and delivering it with gusto. I can't remember the last time that the thought of doing something really interesting and probably very useful didn't feel like an invitation to failure, an imposition on energy, something I probably can't get done before life drags me backwards three steps. When I see the Fabulous Women and I know, they are actually fabulous, it makes me notice what I am, now. Where I am, now. What I can be, now. And I'm not satisfied. The best I can do is not good enough for me. I should be able to step up, and in. Life keeps sending me setbacks like curve balls I really should have seen coming, and I'm not sure I have the disposition for it. When I go somewhere to get inspired by the people who overcame that, I feel tired. Too tired to even admire what they do.
I am of diminished capacity. I am limited in body and mind in ways that make my spirit lose interest altogether. I may never understand the most fundamental things that everyone else seems to get. And I have no way to help anyone else with anything they are experiencing, because following the disjointed path of my breadcrumbs would try the patience of a saint. It has. And that will likely be the only way to get what I had to give, in the end. It wasn't what I hoped for.
But maybe today will be different. Maybe today, the inspiration will spark instead of snuff. Maybe today I will walk away with energy I didn't have before. So I go.
Because hope is the only path to peace that feels compelling.
Tuesday, March 3, 2020
In this fragile state I am often weepy
Tears rise unbidden,
stinging eyes, constricting
I sigh, again to find myself overcome
becoming weak right in the centre
of my strong
I play along with life, all the while
wondering about this feline creature
playing with me.
Weeping, but not weak
Weakened moments a release,
of tension, dissonance, consternation.
I cry, for a moment I cry
(a moment or two)
all the while knowing that I will make it through
back to me
this is not the sum
dying isn't the worst of what's to come
and life always offers consolations
to those who see.
Thursday, February 6, 2020
When did it become cool to be unkind?
A merit badge of honour?
When did pushing boundaries become thumbing noses
And personal ambition become winner takes all?
When did people become unapologetically,
Each person must choose it every day
to be that way
they have to choose. But
maybe it's not again and again
choice after choice,
but simply one choice, to not care
then hold, hold fast, right there
Pandora's box shut tight.
I imagine how that would feel
to protect, guard this new power
like it represents sanity
like I've finally found the way around all the pain
that others' suffering naturally launches inside
the empathy that resides in our hearts from the start
To have found a pain-killer for the soul.
It must be as addictive as crack.
Imagine! to have discovered a way
to thwart life's inherent poignancy
the pull of destiny that doesn't exist
the contradictory means to survive;
to have someone clear to blame, something empowering to believe
that lets me off the hook, a reprieve
imagine slipping through the grip of guilt
Hoarding all my caring just for me!
I feel exhilaration, freeing all the possibilities previously bound by honour
shifting that honour to me and mine
a lovely switch and bait that feels like freedom
from mommy's nagging whine about what's right
I mean, who's to say? We can't trust the evidence of our eyes
or the people who run our lives
and where is our God or Hero to save the day? Guess what?
we have ourselves to save.
Yes, there's a strength and pride, to come out the other side of caring.
Nice trick if you can.
maybe I should be jealous, or mad
but all I feel is sad.
|Reversed Emission (CAI)|
that nothing I do matters
that my words dissipate in the air
all I am is contained in here, this body
and when she stops, who will care
for longer than it takes to order a beer?
All the trying and striving, wonder and worry
all the ways I thought I mattered
barely a line in the sand, whisked by wind
not even a grain remains to say
I was here
Saturday, February 1, 2020
was I looking at the sky or at the ground?
how did I miss the moment?
blithely going my way; floundering, too,
but you, you
you were trying to fly
and I didn't even know
why I was there
you needed my air to go
all I had to do was blow your way
but I spent the day
on nothing at all, and let you fall.
Monday, January 6, 2020
|Futures (CAI 2019)|
The burden of the futures keeps my head heavy with pressure, my heart heavy with knowing, my self heavy with fear and a poignant attachment to beauty. Finding my lightness requires feats of strength. Keeping my focus requires will mustered from depths that scrape nasty scars on the wall of my stomach, down the length of my nerves, through the pores of my skin.
I breathe in light. I breathe out knowing. I leave it hanging in the air and try to pretend it isn't there.
Friday, November 15, 2019
I paint tiny paintings. They keep getting smaller, but then they group, mix and match into something else.
I may be afraid to write.
The paintings flow out of me, so small, so unexpected, so demanding with unique messages I can't read but can't ignore, either. They trace back, they pull me out.
I may feel too weak to balance the who's of who I am,
I tip sideways into expected
trapped in the way things are
every move a risk of something less satisfying
or at least, potentially uncomfortable, or painful,
or inflicting of pain,
unintended consequences, cruel whip-lashes of having chosen
I may be afraid to write.
Words expose my knowing as what it is: complete bewilderment.
I'm a little afraid to try, to start, and find myself alone, abandoned, the story fled from neglect. To stand naked, my gift withdrawn.
I may be afraid to write.
Maybe letting myself know
what I know
will make it impossible to keep
choosing what I choose
though it wears the edges of my soul away
into the tide
so why, again? why choose?
(shall I let go of the wheel?)
I look away from the futures flashing past my vision
Soul cries when I starve her, but when she's fed. she is relentless
and what she says just doesn't jibe with the consensus reality.
Potentials are congealing. We're nearing the end. But what is near, anyway?
And who is we?
And what end is not a beginning of something else?
I reach for breath
I stretch with breath
I wish for breath to keep me home.
Wednesday, October 9, 2019
|Writer's Alcove (CAI2019)|
Is it still 2019? I have to keep checking. It feels like it's been 2019 for three years and those three years have been compressed into six months. I feel like I got lost in the woods so I started focusing on getting out of the woods, instead of enjoying a nice walk. I think that I'm weary, now, from all the anxious trail blazing.
Before there can be recharge, there needs to be discharge. Empty out the contaminated energy, the parts that no longer serve, all used up.
Now, I go back to life, empty. How will I recharge? Will I let life scrape my dregs? What will I put in? How will I get what I need to have something to give where I'm needed?
What will I let in, from here, in this fragile time?
Tuesday, September 24, 2019
Tuesday, September 10, 2019
Sunday, September 1, 2019
Our most limited resource, our most valuable.
We spend our time.
When we spend our time on someone else's problems in exchange for pay, we are doing so to buy something.
Security. A place to live. Food to eat. A vacation. Medication. These are the things we need to buy with our time.
Money is just the intermediary, the translating mechanism that allows us to spend time in one place and buy value in another. Spend time working for one company, buy a place to live from a different one.
There is an attitude in business that people are lucky to have jobs, should be grateful to be paid, and because they are paid, should be happy to do whatever is asked of them.
This attitude pretends that money is the currency. It devalues the choice each human must make every day about how we spend our limited and temporary little pool of time in a body on Earth.
There is an approach that says businesses are lucky when talented, capable people are willing to spend their time for what the business is willing to offer. Businesses should be grateful when people spend their time on business goals, foregoing their own relationships, health, interests, and purposes.
This approach, however, is not attractive to people with the power of knowing that they can hold time ransom, that the people who are selling their time are compelled to do so by fear of losing housing, not having food, falling short of participation in society. Why would anyone offer respect when they can prey on fear and wield power to force their way?
Sunday, August 25, 2019
|Burning lungs (CAI2019)|
Friday, July 26, 2019
|(Negative Space, CAI)|
Anger makes you weak?
He delights to eat at you
crumbling the knowing that lets you hold
your own true feelings to the light;
you don't even notice his manipulation
his chemical machinations
making fight feel like action
flailing like power
a vomit of distortion
exposing what you are
ugliness on display;
this is not a way to be strong.
Anger laughs to take you on
take you over
roll you in his palm
drive through you, make you think
you know your mind
when we all see
a danger unloosed
because you never had the strength to find your way through
to face your own truth
Anger marked you his target
you are his whipped horse to ride
settling for shame labeled pride
hiding behind one side of false dichotomy;
unaware and unbecoming
as Anger becomes you.
Thursday, July 25, 2019
I make a tremendous friend
life intrudes with reality
here is what I bring:
my eyes a pool of respite
my lap a neutral plain
my hands the embodiment of kindness
a place to lay
your worries down
and be, just yourself, with me
I have made my friends
in the Universe
I bring their cleansing sight
a heady blend of truth and might
beyond the scope of mere mortal reckoning
I am a plaything of time and space
a creature of this place
and I can teach you something crucial
about how to be
if you let me
if you want.
but in the end, I guess
you may find that's not the way
and that's okay, too.
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
I hardly dare to write.
That is how dangerous the truth has become;
even I hide my song
run away, after all my promises
despite all my promise
I break Heart again
make it easier! soften the blow, remove the pain!
and no response forthcoming,
I turn my smile another direction
pretend that I can't see
all the futures, as they jostle and writhe
in my periphery
Rife with demands I don't believe in myself to meet
so I choose just one, a well worn path
for a donkey like me
hoping no one notices I'm built for speed
before I have to run for my life
and hoping by then
that I can.
Sunday, July 21, 2019
like it matters
he asks me,
are you ready?
but whatever I answer
he hears what he expects.
this is no small plot
this moment I inhabit
this place, this space standing
under my protection
of my unstable foothold
in the space of time and place
of the place in space
though possession has no meaning
in the rhyme of now.
Are you ready?
has any bearing at all.
|Night and Day (CAI2019)|
He says, Child, don't you know?
you can't fuck it up.
you don't have the power
How things go, is how they go
how they will be, how they are
functions far beyond
your ham-fisted factors,
your desires, your choices.
Hush and be; hush and know
you are only where you go
the acts of war
enacted through your open doors
when reality requires your inevitable participation;
your execution earns no shame
no blame, except
|Raw (CAI 2019)|
a letter to myself, a decision
made in haste
not in jest but
not quite seriously, either.
I know I cannot meet her
where she is
and she can't reach as far as me in any case
to let it go
takes courage, but it looks an awful lot
like watching it drift away without reaching
but what if reaching
is the most dangerous thing of all?
Saturday, June 29, 2019
While I prefer my states of perfection
I have not yet perfected staying there
Inevitably I will fall,
and when I do
when I do
when I do...
there are those who see through to me
with love and curiosity
their compassion clears my air
lets me find my way back here
to something that feels like peace, a clarity
others will see something else
that they recognize, or fear
their aversion and dispersion good reason
to drop me here
leave me alone, to find my shameful way home.
Different lessons, but hopefully
in the end
both make me stronger
make amends with what I am.
Friday, June 28, 2019
|Night in the Balance (CAI)|
That I am imperfect?
You must already know
That I am sorry?
so what would that show? it doesn't matter.
The pattern plays out, we play our role
or each other's
the pattern doesn't care; its balance is inherent.
and our balance
doesn't even factor in.
|Wield (flipped and mirrored) (CAI)|
This is the one I resist the hardest, the one that my instincts reject. So it just takes longer. It's like my son, fighting with us for 3 hours in circles and wasting the very time he's trying to save.
There is a big part of me willing to choose acceptance over reaching. Accept that this is the best I could do, and sink into the rest of the time I'm here basking in the glow of the space I've created. Not take it on.
But that's an illusion. Reality requires constant upkeep, costs that can't be ignored. Paying for a life consumes a life, leaving only scraps for basking. The work is the life. The life is the work.
I am the mirror, the morph. It takes me on, activates my programming, the parts that are already there, amplified through feedback. The place in the system; it's not you so it's me. Could be him or her. Another moment and it will be. Today it's me. I get this part to play. I don't feel up to it.
I pull in on myself, a bud meeting frost when reaching for the sun.
Belonging is my last lesson. Maybe I'm stretching it out on purpose.
(Listen to Happy Rhodes say everything better than I could ever https://youtu.be/Dn3LOFVH4Ks)
Wednesday, June 26, 2019
The sky is not one thing.
We can't look at the blue sky and think, that is the sky, I know it.
We can't look at the grey sky and think, that is the sky, it will always be grey
We can't look at the night sky and think, that is the sky, it is simply black and shines with stars
What we see, of the sky, at any time, remains an illusion of the light
for in fact
there is no sky.
Tuesday, June 25, 2019
|Be Brave (CAI2019)|
but he tells me, anyway.
there's no point looking to the futures, they are shifting too fast to catch
there's no point clinging to the present, it's already changed beneath your feet
scrape the past from you, it clings on like a burr or a barnacle
and I laugh, and ask,
so when can I be?
he smiles sadly
10 seconds from now, he says, it won't matter anymore.