You are currently browsing the category archive for the 'Life and Love' category.
I drove North from Gainesville today. Seems like every song on the radio was about traveling or saying goodbye.
And so i’m off! The only plan, thus far, is to leave the plans open-ended. But I have good ideas. I’m in Atlanta now, staying with my sister Sharon and her husband Adi. Tomorrow, we’ll pile in a car with their friends and head North to Madison, WI where she and Michelle will compete in Ironman.
We’ll return to Atlanta on the 15th, setting me up to pedal back out on or around the 17th. I’ll end that first day in Athens where I may stay for a few days before making my way to Cherokee, NC and the Blue Ridge Parkway. Stops in Asheville and D.C. before making my way down the East coast in time for the Horrible Hundred with my parents in Orlando. All of this is subject to change, of course, at a moment’s notice =)
I left many things behind in Gainesville, but one thing I did not leave is my relationships. I have many loving friends in town and though I feel a strong pull to make this journey, similarly I am drawn to them. To quote myself, “I think we come to know ourselves best through our relationships.” That is to say, each friendship may be a part of myself that is dying to express, or a part that is well expressed, and better with company.
In short, I have learned a great deal from them, about life, the universe, and everything. And I have so much yet to learn! And I love them.
<3
My friend Matt Brown is missing and presumed dead as of this past Sunday.
http://www.cbc.ca/canada/british-columbia/story/2008/08/10/bc-us-kayaker-missing.html
Matt was a bicycle advocate and an all around-swell guy. He was a part of the band “Loyal Frisby” with me, between 2000 and 2002. Matt was in the middle of a bicycle tour through Canada–on his way to Portland to begin a Nursing career with his newly-earned degree–and had reached a point of rest when this seemingly innocuous afternoon of kayaking took a turn for the unexpected. Matt planned every step of his trip meticulously. He knew when he was going to be where, with every road charted and every accommodation arranged. Tricky are these souls of ours that weave the universal web we walk. Scottish poet Robert Burns comes to mind, “best laid plans of mice and men often go awry…” and Lennon, “life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans…”
My personal philosophies preclude that birth should be the beginning or that death should be the end of life. To that end, i am confident in the notion that the soul/consciousness/life-force/(call it what you like) i knew as “Matt Brown”, with an agenda borne of love, has fulfilled its purpose in this venture–has learned what it has come to learn, or taught what it came to teach. But, it does make you stop and think about the “plans” you’ve made for yourself–be they for the next 5 minutes or the next 5 years. Perhaps in this way, Matt, though “gone” can still teach us–to plan, but to remain unbound by those plans. For some, his failure to wear a life jacket will remind us that the tightrope between relative safety and adventurousness is hairline-thin. Perhaps others will find inspiration in his adventurous spirit, realize that life is too short for “should’ve, would’ve, could’ve”, and shed the fears and false-securities that prevent them from tackling those pursuits that really allow them to flourish and feel alive. Matt answered to none save himself.
As such, my thoughts turn to those who love him, and how i can help to ease their pains.
Culturally, we do little to understand and accept death, and so when it darkens our doorways, we feel the pang of loss and the tear of attachment, as though (perhaps honestly) that we have not expected this event–which has been a part of life since the dawn of time. Even my own statement, “darkens our doorways”, associates a degree of negativity with death.
Personally, i am coalescing some ideas, or “plans”, that seem interesting to me, and which have “called” me into momentum. But who can say why i am here, or for how long…? Perhaps the entire purpose of my emergence onto this plane will realize itself in a very unexpected way, at an unexpected time. What am i here to learn? Who am i here to inspire? I may be playing a supporting role in a much larger scheme. Getting to the point–for all my “plans”, for all of “our plans”, the universe will continue to spin, positrons plummeting towards electrons.
I could be dead within 5 minutes of publishing this post, for any number of unquantifiable reasons. I may not ride a motorcycle anymore, but bicyclists get hit from time-to-time. I could be the victim of a crime, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Whatever the case, it might seem senseless, or like “a waste”. How does this make you feel? Culturally, this is a taboo subject! But it doesn’t have to be. I’m certain: there are no coincidences, and nothing is random.
These thoughts are not born of some morbid obsession with death, but of a fascination with life–for which birth and death are integral parts. I’m moving forward with my ideas, with only the best of intentions. Should i fail to create a vision for myself, i would miss the whole point of this hilarious tango–and that is to come-to-know, or to realize, myself. But I can’t do it alone–everything is relative, and accordingly, i will come to know myself best through my relationships to others. And i’m so glad you’re part of this stellar equation!
Thoughts?
Peace, and bicycle grease,
and much, much love!
to be a butterfly
to emerge not once but
twice on this earth
at first so humbly
caterpillaring around
consuming, anticipating
chrysalis
its a fun word we don’t
get to use enough
unfolding, unwrapping
wings drying, beholding
a universally accepted beauty
fluttering — notice,
we never say flapping
proboscis, curled
for two weeks
burning the candle
at both ends
a vacation for
the soul, after a long
lifetime of work
then back to the pool
ready for human form,
again — time to grow
I wrote this short letter with a particular individual in mind, but realized shortly thereafter that I have written a letter also to you and to myself. For an interesting exercise, read this as though you had written it to yourself:
This morning, I feel that I AM love.
And it urges me to write this; compels me to celebrate an expanding affection for [all of] us in our Oneness; that truth that dissolves all notions of separateness and border. It is perhaps also through my relationship to you that I am most quickly learning to realize this connectedness of all beings; that we are each an individual finger on the hand of the whole.
The more “time” I spend with you, the happier I become for our growing relationship; for the potential to experience the whole of myself through you, illuminating all seven chakras. Come explore the future with me in all capacities for as long as our individual paths provide that our footsteps should sometimes occupy the same earthly soil!
Potential is just that. Shared, there is perhaps something else to be experienced: the pure giving and receiving permitted by openness, vulnerability, pridelessness, and egoic dissolution (we could perhaps afford ourselves these freedoms in all facets of life). Be not worried or fearful of permanence or expectation–my love need not be earned or returned; only received.
In giving you my love I give my love to all, and receive it from myself. Through my individual actions, the universe shall be galvanized–what is “good” and “bad” for the one is just so for the whole :o)
I am confident and creative in this notion!
simple, geometric
symmetrical, elemental
it is earth, the sun
their orbits
it is tao that you might see as yin and yang
it is the iris of the eye of the beholder
The Hudsucker Proxy?
…never seen it.
a symbol of no culture
a symbol of every culture
the cosmic circle
the karmic circle
the cyclical nature of life,
the universe, and everything
what do you see,
in this shape?
I am seated on the plane. I am taking a flight to I-don’t-know-where, but this fact is hardly prevalent or important. I think I am about twelve-ish rows back. In any case, directly behind my seat is a bulkhead separating me from the next compartment. I have an aisle seat and the seats all around me are occupied. As is the aisle, as the last passengers file into the plane, and manipulate their carry-on luggage into the various over-head and under-seat storage areas.
I see you coming down the aisle…you are so beautiful, but I divert my eyes because for as much as I want to see you, I am still unsure how to reintroduce myself to you. And overall I am still unsure if I can let you back in yet. You are with, I think, your mother and maybe also your sister, and as you file past me I can no longer withhold my gaze–I turn my head up to look at yours as you turn your head to meet mine. These clothings you’re wearing are somewhat eccentric, wrapping you in yellow and bright green.
The crowd forces your continuation down the aisle but I crane my neck around to maintain eye contact with you, and you do the same. Our expressions are somewhat solemn. Neither knows how the other feels, neither knows what to do next.
You disappear to the other side of the bulkhead.
i am seated at a long white dining table; one designed for inexpensiveness and efficiency. Its is perfectly suited for its surroundings which is either a cheap fast food restaurant or cafeteria of some kind. The people sitting around me are unknown to me, but we are packed into the table, sitting as close as friends and family, and everyone is in a jovial mood, eating and drinking and sharing with those around them.
Finally I notice that you are seated to my right, one or two occupied seats away from me. And as I take note of your presence, those individuals separating us are gathering their containers, plates, and plasticware and departing. You notice me too, and while we don’t particularly acknowledge each other, neither are we ignoring each other. Moments later I begin to gather my things, and as I am standing up, so do you. But you are a moment behind me, and I observe that the tattoo on the back of your neck is gone–removed by laser–I can see new skin where it once was, still healing.
As I turn toward the exit, I allow my hand to brush ever-so-briefly against yours. In doing so, I’m inviting you back into my life, but cautiously, because I know that if we are not in similar places of need and want–if I let my emotions take control again, the inequity could send me back down that same depressed path I’ve already walked. How can I be sure this will not happen again?
A few steps later and I feel your hands wrapping around my waist, and your mouth exhales a worrisome “oh” indicating an indulgence in some forbidden act–as though you are taking a risk by making contact, but cannot resist the urge. I am surprised and pleased and a little stressed to be feeling your touch–its been a long time. I turn to meet you, sliding your hands into mine. Now the two of us are leaned against a wall, looking into each other. Our expressions are somewhat solemn. Neither knows how the other feels, neither knows what to do next.
i’ve met a girl who keeps pace with my bicycle
and one who can teach me which plants are edible
i’ve met one who captivates me with her writing
and another who makes me feel alive in bed
I’ve met a woman who spins my mental threads
into a quilt of philosophy with her own
and one who plays word games well
but disappointingly, i usually win
I’ve met a girl who shares my dreams of traveling
and one with whom I can enjoy doing nothing
but none of us are drawn
as i am drawn to you
as you are drawn to me
as we are drawn to we
it was just yesterday you confessed
and last night i dreamt of reunion
how fitting then, that
i should
nearly catch up to you
at the 34th street signal
but i hang back,
away from detection
the light turns green
((relief))
our encounter…inevitable?
delayed for another mile
words greetings engorge
even my taste buds
but my heartstrings just
quiver unknowingly
so i creep slowly behind
once or twice this distance
closing as close as i’ve
been to you in months
approaching 13th street,
i am contemplative when
my buzzing sprocket
forsakes my stealth
hearing the noise,
you glance back ever
so briefly just enough to
make my stomach dip
and i wonder
did you know it was me?
or did my silhouette
obscure the setting sun?
you speed ahead pumping
your magnificently athletic legs
to the beat of your ego
and i turn left
I step onto the landing at the top of the interior stairwell leading to “your” second-story apartment. The paint is white but dirty in that way that most inexpensive housing in Gainesville is only minimally maintained. This domicile bears little resemblance to the house I know you to live in, but in this astral realm, it is your home.
My intent is to return a painting–a smallish white canvas on which you have composed an image using only solid black lines. But some short time ago I dipped my own brush into black pigment, and added a figure of a man, representing myself.
After first softly knocking, I twist the doorknob but it is locked. The first key on my ring–the key to my own house–small, brass, and tarnished from use, does not work. So, I try the very next key on the ring–it is silver and shiny, and it aligns the pins and spins the tumbler with satisfying ease.
I’m not sure if you are here(?) and feel a little uneasy as I walk into your space. And while traversing the room, I catch a glimpse of you crossing an interior doorway. By this time I have set the painting on the table and turned back toward the front door, feeling an urgency to go. But by halfway across the room the urge disappears and is replaced instead by a new urge to stop and turn around.
When I turn around you are standing directly in front of me, your eyes shining into mine and your face radiating a glowing copper smile.
We say nothing but take each others hands in each others hands, now resting our heads on a soft couch or pillow, but never unlocking our stare.
Accepting, and loving.
