Monday, August 30, 2010


A thousand and one miles deep into obscurity, but happy about it. Fa-fa-fump, and all the songs on the radio are Snow Patrol's lately. That one album that encompasses every last VH-1 almost-be's. Um, not sounding right. The edges of the mirror and her cracks,...

and one birthday late. Just gonna sit here for a bit while I gather my thoughts, pawning half-answers off on my three-year-old, and her questions. Whose is that? Mine? Can I have it, in other words. Simpler to ignore half her sentences.

Until she gets to the root of what she's asking, really though, she's just messing up parts of the basement until I answer. So that's how romance novelists' thoughts are processed. Irregularly.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010


Five o'clock and five-thirty, I must be there to regather my young ones, all played out with dates I arranged just today. Friendships in the making, with mother's full support...their containers. Latin root, continere, to hold together. Reflections of themselves, their worlds seen in others, a gracious exchange.

Words, words in staccato, I know I know. Still seeking that free space where I soared above all, plucking from the fruit trees all that would serve me, listening in between. Where the soul arises of its own doing, the not-doing place, the arising without acting.

It's just. Such open forgiveness and allowing clears the space, and the sounds are suggested...the words its translation. Rudolph Steiner and his eurhythmy, where consonants and vowels suggest the course. And all we have to do is wait and receive, finding gratitude for its obedient way.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

A static phase

Pacing my way through a series of days filled with normal. School returns just around the corner, excited by the new rituals and demands ahead. For entertainment, reading the thoughts of fellow empty nesters, an endless supply of been there and survived it. Some, anyway.

Planning ahead for seven years later, and then the culmination that will arrive in fifteen (last graduation). Am I prepared, have I celebrated every moment? Backstepped and rechecked, then plowed further ahead?

Who will I be when the last one leaves my nest...someone who took less for granted, who lived full-time in "believe in your best life" land.