The interior dialogue that is MALICIOUS and masked from the outside world, rots and takes the man or woman with it. BE HONEST AND IF YOUR ENCOUNTERS AREN’T, TEACH THEM.
Tag: Writing
REMBEMBER YOUR BEST
Remember, who you were, at eighteen, bring her or him back, if they’ve gotten lost in the
woods of disappointment.
One foot off the ground, eyes pinned to the crest of creativity, at eighteen all I wanted was freedom and adventures. I wasn’t ever going to get married, and be tied down. Hah, this is the path I took, sometimes Mount Disappointment.
UNCERTAINTY LIVING
LIVING day to day without
any certainty is like being on the Titanic that won’t sink but is filled
with water, and sinking.
It may be time to explain what adventures in livingness are; not just to you but to myself. The suspense: it drives us, we don’t have a cupboard of familiarity, it keeps changing, like the weather, most of us are single in this department. Sometimes acts of God and nature intervene, so we have no control over the next hour or the next year. The essentials, a home, food on the table, and some circle of family or friends that will hug you and say, I understand instead of ‘everything works out in the end.’ Imagination plays the hand in this kind of living, we dream a lot, we plan and then we change the plan, we are adaptable and that is what we strive for, to be adaptable, to lifestyles, cultures, location, and unfamiliar walks on roads our sneakers don’t know.
SAND AND SENSE
Memories are like walking on the sand. You try to walk over them, but they drag you in, and you can’t get out. You got to feel the sand, like memories, you got to walk through them, and know that you got them inside you. Like grains of sand that remain after you left the beach
EDITING A LIFE
Instead of launching the billboard type of changes in your life that come crushing down on us, try editing out a few nuances at a time. After you experiment with that, try revising your fears, one at a time.
Revising from the Inside Out
- I’m sitting outside in a flowerless garden because no matter how many flowers I plant, they only last one season, if that long. The garden is erupting out of its winter coat, and lime green buds will have to do for now. The sky that seals me in is licked with revisionary hope; the kind that comes back laundered and fresh after a recess from disbelieving in the possibility of a life correction.
Behind the garden, a neighbor is drumming a soft tribal beat, and on Palace Avenue, the choir is singing inside the Episcopal Church. Between these distinctive tastes, there are sparrows fluttering from fan to nest to fountain. The chattering sounds like, “here she comes, don’t come over here, get out of my nest, watch out for that fat crow.”
It’s a mind drift, to be caught in such unstructured beauty, away from the manuscripts, remotes, doors, and phones. It’s like being on an island out here. Everything we bring into our experience can be revised; a work of art, a way of speaking, thinking, portraying yourself, your way of loving, or lusting, and we all know about appearance, because our society shoves it down our throat.
Look at the possibilities in revising our patterns of behavior. What we accepted 20 years ago doesn’t mean it’s carved in our organs. We can transmute. The interior life needs lifting and tightening, just as our mind and muscles do. You won’t find any immediate remedy, or advertisements, or books on the subject because we’re consumers of products that change and revise only the visible tangibles. I wonder if I traded in my 11-year-old Land Rover for a new one if I’d be really happy, and for how long?
My homework for the next few weeks. Life corrections begin with edits, then revisions, and then you have a new story!
QUIRKY SANTA FE
The banner in front of Trader Joes read, Menopause Revival, and White Zen recognized Johnny Depp in Whole Foods, ” because they were skinny Hollywood types, and the cashier at Sunflower Market, piles up a dozen items, and then asks, if I want a bag? The DJ on Santa Fe Blue recites the weekly line-up, but he doesn’t know who the guest musicians are. It’s part of the quirky, puzzling, undefined tonality of Santa Fe.
THANK YOU
I apologize for not thanking you, but you the readers make writers like me keep on
writing. I really appreciate you following me, my unraveling THE 
interior life, the life
inside of us, that is raw and uncensored. THANK YOU!
EXPECTATIONS
Some of us get more in life than we expected, some get less, and some never stay in one place long enough to
enjoy the harvest.
Passionate love is always an interlude, a gallop that ends in exhaustion.
SOMEONE WHO CANNOT LOVE IS A THIEF, AND STEALS FROM THOSE WHO CAN. AS LONG AS THE TRUTH IS NOT BROKEN, AND WHEN IT IS,
SHATTERED, THE THIEF RUNS IN COWARDLY STRIDES. YOU MUST REMEMBER THE BEST OF YOU, THAT ONE SUMMER, WHEN YOU WERE UNSPOILED, AND GALLOP AGAIN.
THE SACRIFICE
To write, and to withdraw from the
universe, whether it is love, or
glory, you have to write.
TIME TO WRITE
Four in the morning, slipping into the silent darkness, when feelings are raw as oysters.
ADVENTURERS IN SINGLE LIVINGNESS 