”Italy without Sicily leaves no trace upon the soul. Sicily is the key to everything” -Wolfgang Goethe
This life I’m living…the robust interior of a heart cased in feathery gold entrapments of putrid hallow halls speaking names of people I’ve been, homes I’ve carved my cavernous wounds into and slices of time that house my transitory being of perception. Just me and the wind and the whimsical fancy that trances and tromps along the fingers of my feet and the tiny piece of the universe that my body owns. My travelling, transforming piece of real estate with which all things dissolve and all things entrance. I love being alive. I love being in Italy. I love travelling. I love having a mind that could combust at any moment, a chaotic windy heart and a soul that ravages itself daily just to see the inside of a mirror reflecting its own perfect flaws. I love existence and the unceasing quest for more questions which only thrust me deeper into the mystic mystery that I swirl around in momentarily. And every night I go to the Temple of Apollo to thank whatever it is in the universe that has breathed life into these soggy bones and given me the unbelievable gift of a body, of a memory, of a mind that wanders through membrane and magic, and above all, the unfathomable ability to love. Love. Above all else, this is why I live. For, of, about, around, through, with always in love. In her grasp, the sweet caress of Aphrodite whose hands have never felt anything other than granulated, sun drenched, magic stardust.
I wish I could explain what my life is like. I wish I could explain to anyone what it’s like to be inside my body and to feel vibrations of an entire world glowing around you. No idea. No fucking idea. It’s absurd. Destroy yourself, destroy everything you think you know. Bravery.
The whole world will awaken together. Because we are one. The atoms will connect. The rain will pummel us through the earth and we will see the stars again floating on top of our heads. The streets will invert and call to themselves and we will all speak the same language of nonsense.
It is not me, it is the absence of me. It is me and the sea. In the sea.
The seeming rightness and the seeming wrongness. Is it possible to be either? Or just the creation of wonder? Are you chaos? Am I silly to see the patterns? Magic magic, what is the sea saying? When I am with the sea for long enough I can finally remember that we are one. Of and about and derivitive of.
And then to be comforted by the comfortable. How comforting. Ween yourself off, it’s getting to be so easy.
The atoms are vibrating. The world is attracted to itself. What if its something small, something atomic leading? The measurements are impossible. What if it’s everything. Electrons are chaos.
“An I is essentially a process, and not a state, and this process is an in-dividuation (it is a process of psychic individuation) as the tendency to become-one, that is, to become indivisible.”
I feel most at home travelling. Guys look what I did? The most amazing of things. Communication exists in all forms Everything remains. Everything sticks. Ravage your memory it is vital. Facebook may actually be a new key. And when you uncover memories- those are the greatest gifts. If I am quiet enough, I can almost still hear their voices. The first time my world was shattered. It changes everything. It changes everything. And now our lives are scattered. But thank god for these captured pictures. So beautiful. When you have visceral physical memory- you can always go back. Thank god for pictures. Jolt your memory. It’s black magic, isn’t it? The first time I felt the earth’s magic. I remember that canoe, floating on the river, thinking I should be in class. What an incredible life I’ve had. Maybe dealing with America will get easier the more I do it. Maybe every moment is everything.
Become who you were always meant to be. Home is always home. Home moves with you. Jolt yourself.
This is just life moving towards you…with you…inside of you. The moment. Time. Life. All flowing from the same rugged rock. My life is transforming right before my eyes it’s the most incredible thing. Golden flowing light and rainbow etchings of a city left to the slings and arrows of time. I am caught in the ruble and stuck in the pebbles and the pavement, it knows my name. I’m a stranger to myself again.
Oh an there were clouds. Unbelievable sights and the world called me to it and I was its.
Has anyone ever experienced what I experience? I doubt it. Always always born anew every fucking second. I have no fear anymore something dissipated over the atlantic. I miss my bedroom and the snow. You’re never really ready, are you? Life just takes you. Its all so much wider than ive ever known. Grapple with your disattachment. Grapple with what just happened to your body and take it in gulps. It felt like lacy wafting waste of nonsense. It felt like falling into a black hole. It felt like nothing youve ever known. Remember yourself. She is always true. How did I get here? I have no fucking idea. Even with logic and time and the smallest, minute history it is still unbelievable. Something pure of mine. That’s what ill always have. Things get sorted and quantified and qualified so easily. Discover all thats waiting to be discovered and what that means. I have a deep need to reach out. It’s like i’ve never felt a smile before. I am actively creating my incredible story. Facebook has changed everything about the shape of memory.
And oh gosh what its like to miss something. Really really miss something. What a feeling. What a divine feeling. No matter how far I get, I will always love home. That is a terrifyingly true fact. It is a bond and a tie and an anchor and a home. Everything is conditional though. Everything is right now. Its another world I left. A whole other world. Im still there though, I know I am. Always. This is such a thing, isn’t it. Learn to DEEPLY trust your intuition. Oh yeah. Oh yeah. This is happening. Just bleeding out for you to discover. Just waiting all this time for the words to finally make sense. Or for nothing at all to make any sense. And what is mine will always be mine, no need to worry about that. I am always there so presently. I have discovered a whole new world already.
I don’t want to make any rules. I just want to live for myself, by myself, with you always. Always always bigger stronger wider with. AND.
What happens when the world ends and then begins again? Everything is reborn and grows even taller. AND.
I cannot even tell you what happened today. I cannot even begin to tell you what this magic is like. How EVERY moment is sheer god. My whole life has been aching to reach this moment.
just nothing and the water and the sweetness of a spinning world interacting with me me in it it in me we together just spinning by the sea just flouncing effortlessly just wanting everything and nothing and the space in between my imagination and my sanity.
I keep pinching myself to see if I’m really awake. I mean, is this really happening?
Casually dripping colors they speak to me they speak t themselves the world between the tips of my fingers and the tarnished bundle of flowers growing out of my head, they all wish they could speak the same language.
Hope-it knows not what to do I cannot make sense of this madness…it’s like love. That’s what my experiences are like. I cannot rationally explain them, I can attempt to assign something regarding sense to it but its just that little step past logic. That’s where love lies.
Life you are tossing me about on the sea now.
Is it metaphoric or literal?
Just glory touches in inside of your insides.
Oh my god. Oh jmy god. What is happening to me right now_ What on earth does any of this mean I feel my brain shredding into pieces little bits of mind matter htey are all i have and all i hvae is collapsing into volcanic ash and revelation is just bursting from every oraface i dont have the words anymore they are bits of plastic and plastic and ornaments of a language ive never spoken and a piece of my soul i am rattling towards the sun just jostling all my cells towards something moving me something in motion something we all know that weve never known before before this moment which is every moment which is presence that never ends just eternal infinity its that far its that long and its trying to reach out with spiny hands
Im shaking i have chills i dont understand whats happening to my body.
WHAT IS THIS UNIVERSE?!?
Keep looking- everything comes back.
Even Esperanza, my little jungle queen.
Love will take your bruised fingers and bash them to the ground. Chaos will set your heart a blaze. Rage will churn your insides to a devilish puss, drinkable and fire for the soul. Your ashen, swollen sorrow pages will tear themselves apart and tie themselves together with bits of bandages. Love will grind you into a fine powder and slice through your petty seams to reach the courdorouy filling. Love will touch between your eyes and through your skull and around the tip of your nose. Love will erase your fingernails and replace them with claws for scratching. Dislocate your backbone and affix wings. Apples in your kneecaps and violin strings for sinewy tissue. You will be held together with twine and twists and the battering ram will never cease to devour the thoughts you keep in a box labeled ‘mine.’ Love will let your skin drip with ruby blood and plunge your cells into aching, restless desire. Love will throw you towards the moon, gravity released, all vestiges of sense spinning outward in a gently exploding firework.
I feel like I’m standing at the top of a great mountain. I feel victorious. I feel like I’m about just about to leap off the top and slide all the way down. I feel blue and itchy with wonder. I think of all the moments that brought me here and I just can’t seem to lace it together…it’s lumpy and perfect and sliding.
So I’m disconnecting again. From the world, from myself, from my home. But actually more than a disconnect, it’s more of a connection with a deep blue unknown.
Experience all the beings that are integral to the experience of existing within time.
Hope itself does not require or imply fruition or result. It is merely the very pumping blood that drives action forward. That tosses birds out of their nest. The fulfillment of desire- that’s not what it’s about- its the rip and pull of connective tissue away and towards each other that creates tension within the universe. It’s bouncing atoms and whatever makes electrons spin. Hope grows WITH loss. The two are necessary counterparts. Satisfaction only opens doors to deeper desire. Why would Buddhists want to get rid of desire? It is the basic pull of the universe. It is gravity. It is the pull of the sun. A great ball on fire pulling everything into its orbit. Everything is in love with each other- trying to reconnect what was lost in the big bang. The big bang of human separation- cutting the umblical cord from the safe womb of God into a universe exponentially spinning outwards- in love. Love merely a product of this deep desire. This rabid hope. The push and pull and the entropy of love. And full satiation- full, compete comfort- that is something I’d like to stay away from. Stars are not stable, they are collapsing gaseous love machines. On the side of chaos.
Scientifically, the universe responds to perception.
And the memories of where I was this time last year, they are such gifts into who I am, who I was, and what kind of person I want to be. Nothing REALLY takes you back- everything springs forward.
Somehow I feel like I’m getting the chance to do it right.
And sometimes being hyper aware of what you think a situation is takes away from the truth splendour of discovering it.
And my faith and my concept of the world has been a thousand times over with this unending wave of chaos and then there are these moments of absolute absurdity…where the universe assembles itself within this absolute chaos and the nonsense is the only sense I can find. I accept the absurdity of a full life.
I can’t really believe I’m doing this again. This is absurd. But so wonderful.
This moment is solid and stingig and somehow touched with a motion back and forth. A luggage that is calling me to pick it up. The blankest walls ever conceived. The greatest joy my soul has ever dipped it calico hands into. I’ll pay direct attention to the stickers on the plastic waterbottles that tell me I’m here. This America is real for a moment.
Beginnings are unbelievable. You can’t hold on to them just like you can’t hold on to endings. You can feel something cracking open in your skin though, it’s incredible. I want to live in this place of eternal beginning. It is so exhilarating.
Everything in my life has conspired to bring me to this moment.
I really feel as if I’m in the future now. I feel the passage of time.
You are the moment. And change is a necessary part of you. Not of or around but part and parcel. I am the change. I am my path. I am the motion of my story. Things exist within temporal frames of moments but sounds are created by the patterns of the waves being moved. There is no objective…it is the essence of the motion itself that gives rise to a feeling of a creation. I don’t mean to lessen the essence- It is just much more free. Leap the tropopause and reach the great belt of fresh air. Threshold of revelation.
And I seem so often to be consumed with this need to change. A gutteral desire to transform- to move towards something better. I’m not really sure what this need means or where it comes from but I think it is just part of the human experience. Evolution is a deep part of us.
People don’t really leave you. Places. This concept seems illogical to me in this moment in time. I am just a carrier of all things within the scope of my universe. And my universe is about to be blown wide open. It’s not so much about leaving things…I’m not even sure if it’s really possible to leave anything…but more so just expand, explode, open, become more.
Australia was an awakening. A ratcheting out, a cleaning and a shedding and an awakening. Maybe this will be a becoming. An enriching. Enlivening. Of course an awakening to…but I don’t know what the next step is. And there it is again, this desire for it to be more- somehow exponentially increasing- maybe this is an honest impulse, however, since the universe itself is in fact exponentially expanding. And even in this act of trying to define what it is I’m after or what I’;m moving towards there is some loss in that….the definition makes it lose some of its own perfect power for movement- so I will attempt to find meaning and assign words and yet I will not let them define,merely wash over me like poetry. But that’s all any of it ever is isn’t it? It’s all just poetic attempts at meaning. From the theory of relativity to the Bible to a reciept- it’s all just poetry AT what we attempt to see in this world. What we want to create.
I want to create. I want to discover and I want to direct my magic towads creation. I want to learn. I want to soak it up. I do not want to preoccupy myself with NEEDING to change or needing to be MORE than myself. That will happen all on its own, I do not fear that. There was some fear in me that my experience had to somehow measure up to some level of the world given to me and yet even in defy that I was only defying yet another box placed on this magic. This time I want to move from an honest place into the absolute terror of subjective reality. Experience whatever I experience however I do.
Bring me to the sacred place and let me find my magic. I’m ready to see. Fearless. You have power over yourself.
I can’t wait to see the stars again. I’m ready to soar. Unlatch myself and release the spirit. Magic maker.
The presence of this coming moment- this coming country…is too much to process. I’m floating in this huge sea of white. White cloudy beginning with the most peculiar shapes welcoming me in begging me to know my new self. A whole new world. A whole new life to discover. What lies before me is the most incredible thing I could imagine. ITALY. ROME. SICILY. How did I get here again? I don’t think I will ever understand this confusing joy of being alive. The wide, wide atlantic and all the depth it holds. The surface of the earth and what it means. The horizon and how time just hangs in the air. And every step away from home is a step closer to this wide mystery awaiting. A wide sea of white welcomes you. Where am I going? To the end of the earth and back.
I have no idea what’s happening right now. I have literally no idea what to do with myself. I don’t feel how I think I would feel. I don’t know if I’ve ever really been in a state of shock…but if ever I was…it would be now. I don’t think I can actually process what’s happening. I feel emotionally exhausted. I feel shocked that this is happening. But this is new. This is now. This is a whole new story. A whole new adventure. Of course the memories are flooding me with what I felt and how absolutely horrified I was and how odd it is to feel strangely calm, almost uneffected. I’m excited. I’m ready in some ways. And then in other ways the concept of all that travelling brings back memories that I’m not sure I’m ready to go back to. I’m not sure why they’ve become tainted- maybe because they seem to represent a part of me that feels alienating and eternally lost.
I don’t think I’m ready for the language barrier. I don’t think I’m ready for petty socializing. I think I’m ready to be alone. I think I’m a great traveller. I am and I’m not ready to meet new people.
I’m heaving in deep breaths of everything under the sun. This is my time. This is wild imagination at its finest.
Why does this feel SO much less stressful and scary and intimidating as Australia? This feels SO easy. Too easy…
My last moments in America. I’m trying to take it in but I’m not even sure what to take in. It’s pretty mind blowing what’s happening and the truth is I have no idea what I’ll miss. Sigs in English, maybe. The truth is I can not KNOW…I stand on a precipise. I stand unfolding on the fold. I sit as a monument to a dying fragment of a temporal slice. I feel I might actually miss the winter. She is a beautiful desolate season of clarity, silence and eternity. This is the transit time and it is full of all things shiny and unclear. Unsee-able.
And after the storm,
I run and run as the rains come
And I look up, I look up,
on my knees and out of luck,
I look up.
Night has always pushed up day
You must know life to see decay
But I won’t rot, I won’t rot
Not this mind and not this heart,
I won’t rot.
And I took you by the hand
And we stood tall,
And remembered our own land,
What we lived for.
And now I cling to what I knew
I saw exactly what was true
But oh no more.
That’s why I hold,
That’s why I hold with all I have.
That’s why I hold.
I will die alone and be left there.
Well I guess I’ll just go home,
Oh God knows where.
Because death is just so full and mine so small.
Well I’m scared of what’s behind and what’s before.
And there will come a time, you’ll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.
I don’t think I will ever be able to wrap my mind around time and presence and life. Never never it is just beyond my grasp and that is the inherent loss in being a subjective being.
Maybe memory is the only thing that does exist. Pictures keep blowing my concept of presence right out the window. And suddenly I reach this moment where I’m sitting here on my couch in January looking through pictures of this presence that was SO present and is now so lost. SO lost in time. And all we can do is make meaning. And have some bizarre concept of what home is. That girl in the pictures, I don’t even know where she is. It’s not that you need to get back there, its that all of it becomes part of you all the time and you become a constant more. Constantly and exponentially spreading outwards. But its all me. All all all. Bring it ALL in do not separate it. Because at any point in time I am EVERYTHING I’ve ever known, ever thought, ever been, ever loved. I am everlasting love. Nothing is lost forever. Time fragments the presence…but the eternity- do’t worry about that. That’s here.
I am in a constant process of getting closer and farther from the infinite slices of myself. But I’m all here. I am a round circle.
THERE IS NO WHERE YOU NEED TO BE. Get out of the need for a story. This is such an illusion. Let it be CHAOS. Stop holding on. Just experience.
I will never in my life be able to hold all this love. I will never in my life be anywhere but inside of this bliss. Within these draping moments of sublime joy.
Am I ready? Who the fuck can say? Of COURSE I’m ready because I’m here, aren’t I? What more is there? Life, you are knocking me down a thousand times over and I have no defenses left. I am helpless to the course of the wild wind.
My soul is quite on the precipice of itself and I’m about to soar.
Oh just let the is-ness go it is right there.
And everything folds back in, takes a breath, and transforms.
I know you think I don’t believe in linear time…and it’s not quite that crazy. It’s not quite that at all…I believe wholeheartedly in the long and winding road…that’s the only thing that seems very apparent to me. But I can’t make sense of memory and I long so much for what is so irreplaceably lost that I speak in poetry to try to connect these circles that keep spinning but I don’t have any true answers. But time is such an illusion and I’d say that these two kids are still somewhere in the universe giggling and making pasta in this apartment by the train. Sloppy fingers and golden touches and a love that never really had time to breathe. That existed within the space between and was caught tragically in time. Always. And yet so eternal. It never really ended and it never began because love just pounds on your door until you finally surrender and see that it has wriggled its way into every corner of your soul.
And I think knowing who you are is the comfortability of being able to say I am no one. I don’t have an answer as to ‘who I am.’ I am infinite. I am nothing. I am what exists in other people’s mind and what exists in my mind and I am something bigger than objects and smaller than stardust and I am memory and I am presence and I am soul and spirit and body and mind and I am the most abstract thing. I am an adjective and I am a kiss on your cheek. All I have is poetic nonsense that doesn’t quite meet itself anywhere but in circles but that what I am. A circle within a circle.
Give up needing to prove anything to him or to yourself. Live for yourself, by yourself. But you cannot make him love you. He loves what he sees and you cannot close the gates or edit your true-isms.
The truest place of me is infinite. It is this and that and here and there and yes and no and it is all things and it is the connection between them where my essence lives. I am the thing that connects all the places I’ve been, all the things I’ve created, all the love I’ve given. I am the god of my own life. The connective tissue. I am the open vessel of a bundle of memories. Give your love away to the infinite.
And now I begin to pack. And I take you with me and I leave you behind. And I go for myself and I go because it’s time. It’s time. It’s always time running everything. A place and a time. Presence.
The past and the future and the present are in everything I pack. Everything’s covered in goosebumps of hope. And you’ll be where you’ll be. And who I am is everything. And I’m most likely wrong about everything. I am a wholly full and festering wound. Just because I’m about to change forever doesn’t mean I won’t always be this person. It’s infinite. We get stuck in such a small scope of life. Don’t even try to prepare yourself because the truth is, you can’t. Everything has value and everything has eternity. It’s hope in any direction. All directions lead back here. It’s not about here and there. It’s not about where you’re getting to and where you hope you will be. It’s only ever right here, right now. But that presence INCLUDES all other presences. Everything exists all at the same time and we can only ever see this temporal slice. You’ll always just be an open wound.
I am a compilation of all of me. Do not fear. You’re still here. All of you. You’re infinite. You cannot lose yourself, just discover new parts of yourself. Just open wider. Discover MORE but lose nothing. Trust in Time. But then there IS loss. Abstract, real. But the loss is present too. Call to your memory and you’ll be there in fragments. Call to the present and you’ll be infinite.
This is part of a new story now. I can feel it. It’s an and. There is loss AND eternal presence and they are threaded together by Love and Time.
I feel more full WITH your memory now. Because you are a gift now.
Pick what spirits will lead your story.
Accept all parts of the indescribable equation. You’re about to leap off a plane. You will change completely. You will lose everything. You will lose nothing. You will here, there and everywhere. You are what you are and you are infinite. Take all the pieces of yourself and throw them towards the sun. Leave what is lost and cherish what remains. Memory is a gift. The objective me is everywhere.
Don’t hold on to that glittering future, be where you are and be who you are and your life is a gift. Ride the fire.
Feel the tension and the meaning everywhere. Unroot yourself. And I’m even bigger than my memories.
I can’t really believe I’m here. But then some part of it feels SO true. LET the memories come back. Whatever they may be. Painful, beautiful, sweet. They are you.
Thought is the entrance to the infinite world of connection.
Whoa whoa whoa. What I’m about to do just hit me and I feel woozy.
Life is subjective. Memory is a gift. I can keep whatever parts of you in whatever fashion I want in this little piece of myself. Because all of us remains everywhere.
Falling in love actually closes you in some way, narrows your life down to one point, one being, one person. Breaking up opens you.
But the truth is, of all the places I’ve been…I feel most clearly myself in this place. In this place of love and belief and hope and wonder.
Some stopper has been released though…and now I can see my whole life. I’m open. That’s what it is. I feel wide open.
Trust in Love. She is the most talented storyteller I know.
The way that people can love each other…and how we can create such meaning is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known.
I would never wish for my heart to not cling to life’s meaning as wildly as it does- I give my world such intimate love and powerful meaning. I would never want it anyway.
We both got really bruised. Really broken.
Whoa. I actually just got a little terrified.
Only creatures like humans could pick out such moments in time and give them such meaning. Thank you for creating this glory.
Maybe if I scream loud enough I can stay in this moment.
It’s a moment in time that I miss. That I can never get to no matter what I write or how I love or what I think. How do humans ever deal with time? And this gaping wound in their chest. The loss is HERE. I FUCKING miss last January. I turn and I wish you were here on my bed with me watching me pack. This is what it’s like to care. It’s like a wound that will never heal.
You must train your intuition. You must trust the small voice inside of you
which tells you exactly what you need to say.
He told me one time he forgot himself
and his heart opened up like a door with a loose latch
and he tried for days to put it all back in proper order
but finally he gave up and left it all jumbled up there in a pile
and loved everything equally.
– Story People
What’s too painful to remember,
we simply choose to forget.
So it’s the laughter, we’ll remember,
whenever we remember the way we were.
“He who would learn to fly one day must first learn to
stand and walk and run and climb and dance;
one cannot fly into flying.”
– Friedrich Nietzsche
“For the best part of 40 years she had genuinely believed
that not doing things would somehow prevent regret,
when, of course, the exact opposite was true.”
Be as a bird perched on a frail branch that she feels
bending beneath her, still she sings away
all the same, knowing she has wings.
Harper: In your experience of the world. How do people change?
Mormon Mother: Well it has something to do with God so it’s not very nice. God splits the skin with a jagged thumbnail from throat to belly and then plunges a huge filthy hand in, he grabs hold of your bloody tubes and they slip to evade his grasp but he squeezes hard, he insists, he pulls and pulls till all your innards are yanked out and the pain! We can’t even talk about that. And then he stuffs them back, dirty, tangled and torn. It’s up to you to do the stitching.
Harper: And then up you get. And walk around.
Mormon Mother: Just mangled guts pretending.
That’s how people change.