Friday, September 9, 2011

Forgotten but remembered again

Crazy dizzy head, shooting pains. I dream of blonde boys from so long ago and then it falls back into NM dreams. Listen to NIN. Got to be one of the best bands ever. With Teeth one of the best albums. And I find myself wanting to go back...hiding in the trees, like in Portland...an attempted escape from myself that failed. There I was and here I am.

I have forgotten the long journey that got me to this place. I have pushed aside the love in search of ego dreams. I have lost a soul mate to the Universe again and again. He wears a different face. He is the artist. He is the philosopher and a poet, and a student of spirituality. He is my mirror. He is me. He has the darkest eyes that reflect myself back again. And I run from him as he runs from me, but we are on the same plane and though we may never meet again,  we cross paths again and again, because we are one, always together, living in the rippled illusion of the broken frame.

I have forgotten myself. Even death can not tear apart those united. Nor can time or space. It is all an illusion as I live here now in this physical place, becoming my ego self and forgetting once again. Nothing matters. I float on the love of the Universe, listening to the songs I sing to myself, my spirit sings to me. I miss him. And I miss him. I miss her, lost friend. And I miss him again. Time passes and I grow old in this body but my mind is ever young, searching for those who came before, hoping for some recognition as souls unite again.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Listen to the messages

Ah, man, it's just not right. I woke with a headache and tried to push it away , telling myself it was a sinus thing, or an eye thing...snow and bright sunshine, but not really wanting to listen to the voice that told me the things I had been looking forward to for days might not be what I expected. I did not want to hear it. Definitely did not, for today was the day I was going to see that house that might turn out to be our future homestead.

I don't think it is. I don't think it can be. It's just not right, and in fact, my mood got more dismal and sour the longer I stayed at said house in the woods. I felt trapped, like someone was trying to catch me in a giant butterfly net and force me into some beautiful insect habitat, complete with flowers and all the things a butterfly could want, but a cage none-the-less.

It was someone else's vision, and it is hard to overcome a dream of a hand built house created with so much love and personal toil, a house that could expand and be modified to fit me and my life, but a house that carries the ghosts of those who came before, and I'm not sure it is my place to require change in a space that was not created for me or my wild children.

It's just not right. And that makes me sigh in sadness, because I so wanted it to be, like a dream almost realized. But, if I ignore my gut feelings like I have so many times before and fall head first into a situation that is not good for anyone, I will be telling myself  "I told you so," even as I dig out of the negativity and try to fly free again. I can't go there, I'm afraid.

So, I will stay here, in this place and rethink my options, even as I stare at my high desert land waking up to spring and appreciate the beauty of the Junipers, the Pinon Pines, the sparse prairie grasses and even the cacti. I will watch the birds that have come to live on our land since we brought the flowers, the compost, and the gardens. I will appreciate all that we have accomplished in our two short years here and wait for the season to come into bloom. I will find joy in the rabbits hopping down the path, the quail bringing their babies out for a walk, and the blue sky. I am honored to live in the shadow of the Wet Mountains...a pristine wilderness landscape that greets me every single day.

Maybe this place is right, for right now anyway.