I refuse to let all of this make me angry. They can’t take my life away. Anger can point you in the right direction, light you on fire for a worthy cause, but above all it is draining, and exhausting and it is wasteful. I refuse to let more of my life be taken up by anger. So I will not be moved. I will not be moved to anger. Constructive conversation, maybe. But I will not fight anymore. If Jeff really doesn’t understand what I want after 3 months of this nonsense then I don’t know what I am supposed to do. But I will not let it make me angry. My life is my own and I am stronger than this nonsense. Anger is good sometimes, yes. But only in momentary flashes. Is it a horrible thing to harbor. Resentment, jealousy, hatred, bitterness…these things that eat away at people. I will not have them. We are all people. And surely at the core of the core of the core there is misunderstanding. Maybe even the desire to hurt. Mal-intent, maybe. But all things human and all things I am capable of possessing. I am no better or worse than anyone. And anger and frustration is taking my life away from me and my joy away from my time with my son and I refuse to let it any longer. I do not need it. I will rise above it. Kara. Cheryl. Jeff. Richard. Kristin. It’s all almost too much to bear. I cannot hold all of that anger. And I won’t. I will not. We are all whole, somewhere. We are all children in some piece of ourselves. And I am tired of all this so called “empowering” bullshit about how we should and shouldn’t treat people. This get the fuck out of my way, aggressive shit. Power games and right and wrong. And I just don’t have the energy for it anymore. I’ve never had the energy for it. For holding too fast on a grudge or on your sense of self-righteousness to not forgive. To not rise above it and let it go and realize that people are people. And we are all fucked up. And that hatred gets us nowhere.

I can’t even fathom what Richard is doing…I can’t even begin. It is so mind blowingly unhealthy.

I can’t hold on to anger for very long. It just doesn’t feel honest to me. I think I was able to stay angry at my father for about 4 years. And then I just couldn’t hold on to it anymore. After a while I just saw him as a sad, sad man. And anyone who is that fucked up, and does the kind of fucked up things that he did…he has way more issues, way more guilt, and way less joy in his life than I do. So ultimately I feel sorry for him, I really genuinely, genuinely do. And I love him. Because he is a human being and he is flawed and he has a story no less valid than I do. If there is the spirit of life in him too. I was certainly angry at Max and at Adam and at Peter and at Bobby or whoever at some period of time. But it all faded. It always fades. Rather quickly. Anger is small and ties you down to mostly lies. The lies we tell ourselvs and the lies time tells us. Remembering the honest beauty is always where peace comes. And peace serves the soul much more than bitterness. What is good for?

Here is to live. And to love. And to the honesty of reality. Which is soaked in beauty and mostly good intentions, at the heart of it all. The heart of life is good. And the kernel of soul inside of each person – that is what we have to hold on to, and that is what we have to fight for. No one is soulless – deluded or ignorant, perhaps – but no one has lost the spark the stars gave them. We all have a right to be here. We all have a story that is unfolding and no doubt it is unfolding as it should.

Let’s work towards more beauty, more peace, more love. In a real way.

I don’t believe in bad people and I certainly don’t believe in bad kids.

Sometimes it just hurts too much. Missing him.

There is such a danger of assuming that people don’t change. Don’t evolve. Everyone gets a sticky picture burned into their head of what someone was at a time period when everything seemed to be the objective truth and then can never move from there. People don’t often let people be. See them as they really are. As they are transforming mid-sentance. I think a lot of people have done that with my mom…imagined she is still who she was in high school or 20 years ago or 10 years ago. And that is such a shame. Because the transfomation of people is the most incredible thing to witness. And it is the most incredible aspect of people. It is terrifying. Truly, truly terrifying. But it is marvelous. I don’t even think the Adam Darrow that I met even exists anymore. He just evaporated and a thousand Adam’s have taken his place. Some people transform quite quickly. Too quickly. Some never change at all. Neither one is good or bad…but people should respect people’s journeys. That they are more than one splice in time. And we live and die a thousand deaths. And the people we are as children are both eternal and forever lost. And there RAPID transformation and rapid selves that come and go. The 6 year old Emlyn is a real, full being that existed but is now no longer. There is a real death that comes with the years of children’s lives. And it hardly ever happens on one particular day…people just move like smoke and breath and you can’t tie it down if you watch it…but suddenly you look away and you look back and the 10 year old is entirely displaced. Displaced. That’s what happens to people. They get displaced. By the new season. Identity is such a strange, fragile creature always seeping into us and out of us. All at once I am all of the me’s I’ve ever been and none of them. I don’t even think Max remembers me. He looks very, deeply happy. It makes me sad that I couldn’t make him that happy. It makes me endlessly sad in a way that could never be healed. I know our story is over. I know the door is barred shut. Why do I make so many men hate me? I always take something perfectly beautiful and make them build up 5,000 walls to keep me out forever. It’s a blood oath: love. And it is not to be trifled with. And it always leaves you sticky. I guess I can understand, in theory…why people are afraid of it. But to be afraid of it is to be afraid of life itself. What have you got to lose by being alive? What are you doing here if you’re not trying to be alive? To experience the fully horrifying, magical and amazing experience of being alive?

I really fear that Jeff and I fundamentally are growing in very, very different ways. There was a point when I think we thought we wanted the same things. But I got pregnant and everything changed. I started growing wings and he started growing roots. And now what he wants sort of terrifies me.

“Happiness is like a butterfly: the more you chase it, the more it will elude you, but if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and sit softly on your shoulder…”
– Thoreau

I hate the lens that children can be viewed through and I hate the rhetoric that accompanies modern parenting. I hate the way that children’s intentions are always transplated into the pessimism and jaded attitude of the adult bullshit world we live in. No, we cannot ALWAYS just bend the knee to every whim of a child, but at the same time…we cannot ALWAYS paint their actions in some manipulative way, some conniving way, some black hearted way. If we don’t at least give children a clean slate, how can we attempt to give ourselves the same grace? If we are continually perpetuating these cycles of blame, distrust and competition onto our children…how are they supposed to have any foundation of hope or goodness to spring off from? Surely they will make mistakes, and surely they will grow into being a part of this bullshit adult world we’re all dwelling in. But why can’t we plant a foundation of hope and trust somewhere deep within their brains and hearts that they can always find solace in as the truth beyond bullshit when the world continues to knock them down?

We don’t need anymore pessimism and we don’t need any more distorting of good intentions into bad ones. We need compassion and we need to reach across the table to see the full heart that everyone acts from. I’m not much of a Freudian but I have seen time and time again in this adult world all of the grown ups around me clearly acting out of a place of some deep seated pain. Something they never got when they were a child or something they were made to feel ashamed of or some way that they were forced into a corner and told to shut up. Some aggression, some lack of heart, some lack of something, some addition of something that is so deeply engrained in their brain…in the deepest and most traumatic linking of emotion to cell structure that they cannot shake. Something at the foundation of the blocks being stacked that you cannot remove for fear of collapsing the whole jenga tower. No, no, I don’t think EVERYTHING can be traced back to childhood. I don’t think we should overgeneralize anything. But sometimes it’s just so glaringly obvious. And sometimes it just makes sense. And sometimes it’s just basic psychology. And sometimes people do real damage to each other.

I mean that’s ok…we’re all damaged, we’re all always going to be. We should be. We should be cracked in places and bandaged up and folded and inverted and flipped over. That makes for dynamism and complexity and art and everything interesting in the adult world. But what I think is a waste…is fear. Is what holds us back. Is what keeps us separate. Is what spreads anger, hatred, aggression. I have no affection for aggression. It serves me in no way. I do not find it interesting or complex. I find it to be a waste.

Yes, I understand that from an adult’s perspective it can often seem easy to simplify a child’s behavior to just “Oh you greedy child, you just want attention.” Or to imply that they are crafty and manipulative and are just doing something to get their way. OK well, firstly age matters a great deal in these sentiments and a lot of people seem to lump them all together and imply that a baby might have the same black motivations as a mischevious pre-teen. Secondly, maybe a need for attention IS some aspect of the intention for their behavior…but do we need to say it out loud? TO them? Embarrass them and belittle the whole complex experience of what it is to be little into something so crass? And WHY is that such a bad intention? It is an entirely understandable intention. If we get ourselves out of connoting that as selfish and ugly and understand a child’s world, needs and heart…it is a perfectly understandable impulse if not a beautiful one. Thirdly, there is a whole array of things going on. And they are no different than we are. They are not us-PLUS-selfishness-and- manipulativeness. They are gazing into a terrifyingly large world with no map or guidebook as to exactly how to do things and they are looking at us (adults) with big gazing eyes saying help me. Almost ALWAYS saying help me. Help me get what I believe with every fiber of my being that I need. Help me learn how to be you. Help me not make a fool of myself. Help me not be afraid. Help me not be embarrassed. Help me look cool in this social situation because it is scary and I am inexperienced. Help me because I genuinely don’t know. And of course it comes off in a thousand confused ways. And I remember what it all felt like and it was all very confusing and very exciting and my INTENTIONS were almost always good. Even when I was lying as a very young child it was an exploration. Testing the limits of your world from a pure hearted place. Or from a place of fear. Not from a place of fuck you. When a toddler is throwing something or destroying something almost always the deepest intention is one of exploring the physical dimensions of this world. And genuinely not registering the full weight of what their actions may imply.

And that too. Why are we so mad and so continually shocked when children do things that harm our “precious” possessions. Apart from some things that really are valuable and really need to be kept by a specific adult…so much of it is bullshit. And if you have a kid…why do you need to tempt them by having fucking ornamental vases out? And why do you not understand why that might seem fun to play with? Kids are not just out to fuck with you. Little kids, I mean. And why are we not grateful that children give us some MUCH needed perspective in this materialist obsessed world? Why are we not grateful for the opportunity to reevaluate what we take stock in and reassess what is meaningful to us and what is not? What is bullshit and what is nonsense to spend a whole ton of money on. Children ask the questions and children disregard the expense of an object because it is BULLSHIT and largely arbitrary. And why are we not grateful to children. For keeping us awake and aware of the nonsense of the world. They see through all the bullshit we tell them. They say why and instead of being exasperated at their questions…maybe we should actually question the world we are presenting them with. And if there is a good enough reason for it, then relish in the opportunity to remind yourself of the meaning of things. To see the world with fresh eyes again and be reminded of all the ways the world ticks. And if there is not a good enough reason for something…take note of that. Do not be exasperated when you cannot answer a why but take it as an opportunity to relish those unanswerable questions in life, those unending mysteries and all the beautiful things too profound to articulate. And relish the opportunity to TRY to articulate them.

I’ve always thought that children are placed at a wonderful time in your life. Not the opposite. To shake you out of your skin. Just when you start to get a cocky ass head on your shoulders assuming you know the way the world works…you get a baby (if you do) and the world knocks you on your ass again. You start over. You get humble. You see the world new again. And ther’s a reason for it all. Just when society pushes you to this point of full compliance to the rules of this world…when you are this fully grown adult full of falsities and niceties and ridiculous obsession with looks and accomplishments…you are sent into this messy world of spit up and shit and mess and screams and you are RELEASED from this whole bullshit world back into the way that things REALLY are. And you can get some perspective. And you can be released from all the bullshit society pushes on you. And you can see the ridiculousness of it all. What we really are. What we really need. What is important and what is not. And you can see how your possessions just get in the way. But that’s not the rhetoric I hear these days. I see parents getting EVEN more high tech and useless gadgets for their babies…and then are upset at the baby when they mess it up. Ultimately it’s all for the parent, not the child at all. I see moms blaming the “little monster” for not treating their what-the-fuck-ever with enough grace and I say…did you know you were having a BABY and not a baby magazine? It is AWESOME to be pushed into the wilderness and have everything you know questioned…not the other way around. STOP yelling at your toddler for not standing still and smiling for your picture…realize that the moment is happening around you and that they genuinely don’t understand why it is so important to you and ultimately a candid will be much more beautiful and much more representative of the whirlwind that is life.

We have the strangest expectations of kids and then get outraged when they don’t fulfill OUR fantasies. Well I’m sorry, it’s not really all about the parents. The thing is a giving thing. Be grateful for the perspective, for the jolt to your ego and for the surprise that it is maybe not what you thought. THAT is the gift. The shaking you up. Telling you you don’t know a thing. THAT is exciting.

I do believe. I do believe that our intentions as children are almost always coming from a good place. That’s what I remember. And I think most people have simply forgotten what it is to be a child.

The WORST is the intentions people place on a baby. Crying is their own source of communication.

I think if we loosened our hearts and loosened our minds and changed our perspective of what children’s intentions are and what we should expect from a child…we would all be much happier.

Ultimately though, the same can be said of all people. All ages. All intentions. Ultimately I just see a bunch of boys and girls. All with a thousand honest intentions. Unfortunately, most people really, truly, genuinely believe what it is they believe. Or find a way to convince themselves. I cannot blame anyone. Even my father, I don’t necessarily think his intentions come from a purely GOOD place…but the struggle is real for him and he genuinely gets himself to believe a lot of what he says. And I’m sure the guilt and shame of what he has done weighs on him in whatever ways he can psychologically allow it to.

People punish themselves in far more intricate, complex and powerful ways than we could ever imagine we could do with words or acts of aggression.

That doesn’t mean everyone should always be off the hook or that you should never stand up for yourself. It means that there is a complexity to everything. There is some slice of truth in everything and that compassion should be the ruler of the world. And love. At the very least, love. Understanding. And we can all take each other’s hands and rise each other up. Not because we are all “sinners” but because we can all find ourselves within each other, if we try hard enough.

You could paint any action under the guise of any interpretation…and it is a slippery slope, and a scary one. Any action could be interpreted with the worst of intentions or the best…but I think in the end nearly all actions, when they are really, truly reflected on…come from those true hearted intentions. To the best of anyone’s ability. They often come from that broken place inside. And that is not often their fault. They have often not done the breaking. Not everyone is simply a victim, no, that’s not what I’m saying. But everyone has a story and everyone’s narrative makes sense within the singular and unique context in which they have lived their life. So compassion. And let’s get out of our heads and off of our self-righteous pedestals and see each other in our best lights. Because that is more often the truth than anything else. The benefit of the doubt.

We can’t blame each other for the millions of impulses that float through our bodies. Certainly not children for they have not developped the filters and walls that we have. This is a beautiful thing and a difficult thing all at once. An incredible force to be around and an incredibly complex thing to try to contain and teach the nonsense, bullshit rules of this society we have selected.

That’s why childhood is so wonderful. None of the absolute bullshit has set in.

And children remind us what is important and what is not. Love, just love. And patience and your true character. And nothing you have accomplished matters an ounce to a child. You are loved unconditionally simply because you exist. And that’s the way it really is, isn’t it? Accomplishments are mostly just dust and air for an ego. Love, that’s real. That’s life changing force. That’s running this whole machine. That’s what is giving the next generation the tools to succeed, the heart to tackle the complex problems we face, the optimism to say it’s worth it to be alive at all. Not smartboards or iPads or some Vera Bradley bag. Just love. And that is worth waking up for. That is worth giving to a child.

Well, it’s always all things at once. Wonderful and horrifying and alive. And it always seems to pour when it rains. And my life goes in waves and rhythms of nothing happening at all and then a holy explosion of a thousand things. I am just swimming in this summer. Just swimming in it. All ten thousand things at once. But this newest one..this one is truly fucked up. Losing Richard. Losing Cheryl. What she’s doing is so fucked up on so many levels. I don’t understand how I’m ever supposed to proceed. I don’t understand how she doesn’t see it. I don’t understand why Victoria keeps getting shit on. I don’t understand how people can treat each other like this. I don’t understand how I’m supposed to proceed with my husband with this out of control anger he has. I am legitimately afraid of it. I don’t understand what I’m supposed to tell Tannwen. I don’t understand how I’m supposed to proceed with the Hill side of the family when Jeff has pitted us against each other in so many ways. How is this supposed to unfold? I don’t understand how anything positive can come from this war between our families.

Well in other news, I got the job at the Waldorf School! Which is incredible. And so good. And such a step in the right direction in so many ways. I can’t imagine leaving Jamie. The idea is so horrible. And painful. Physically painful. But I need to work towards autonomy and financial independence. And I have to walk in this direction. And it’s a positive. Such a positive. So I have to look at it that way and use it to bolster my attention towards Jamie. Give him a thousand and one percent in the moments I DO get to spend with him. Be more aware, more awake, more present. And let this be an opportunity to make me more attentive. Always more present.

Life is just eating me for lunch.

And no, I’m not an idiot for getting myself into this relationship. You have to be fearless. You have to give every relationship the benefit of the doubt and a clean slate and an open mind. And you have to have hope. And you have to trust people. I’ve seen a thousand people around me fall into fear and paranoia and distrust and paint a thousand good intentions in a thousand nasty ways. And what does an eye for an eye do for anyone. How do we mature as a society, how do we move past judgment and the wheel of cycles of pain bringing pain bringing pain. Distrust bringing distrust bringing distrust until everyone has walls around them 10 feet high and all we look for from each other is casual sex and everyone has given up on love. And everyone can carry this badge of being so post-post-post-modern that they can all slap each other on the backs for how disconnected their all being. Well good for fucking you. But that doesn’t impress me. It never has and it never will. It is an easy choice, it is a stagnant choice and it a choice without passion, love, heartbreak, growth, and the experience of being alive. Be alive. Choose to be alive. To experience all of it. To make mistakes. Huge ones. From them come immense growth, immense experiences, immense revelation, depth and insight. Fear grows fear. Fear shuts down the world and fear sits on your shoulder and builds up your ego until you can’t see the light of the sun any longer.

Pride, ego, selfishness. I am so sick of it. I am so done with it. I have no time to be wasted on such petty human nonsense. It is a waste. Pride has kept far too many beautiful things from happening in this life. Pride has built up far too many walls and carried far too many egos over those walls into lands unreachable. Pride is fucking bullshit and ego is a waste of a perfectly beautiful life. Just let it go. Just let it all go. Be present. And there is a wide world of light just dancing around you. And you choose to focus on this tiny shadow of yourself in the corner that is just a meaningless reflection of you and your small body blocking the light.

Community. Love. Faith. Selflessness. Grace. Giving. The impulse to do what is best for the greater good. Working towards building a better world. Working towards filling up this universe with more beauty, with more poetry, with more magic, with more wonder, awe, and connectivity. That is what I’m interested in. The rest is just a sideshow of a bunch of disconnected people with heads 4 times the size of their body trying to walk with their faces turned inside out glaring at their own brains.

We have to have faith in this world and we have to have faith in each other if anything is ever going to work. Pessimism is no place to enter into a marriage. Or any relationship of any kind. So no, I’m not an idiot for giving this thing a shot. Not an idiot at all. I am brave. And I am proud that I walk without fear and I move without malice and I make my decisions from a place of deep hope and deep trust that the universe is no doubt unfolding as it should. Always. Always. Always drawing me ever closer to that sacred light splayed out into the world. Always drawing me ever closer to that deep darkness in the heart of the night. Pulling me into the depth of both sides, making me more. Making me more of myself, more of what I am not, more of what I am becoming. Always. Always becoming more of what I am, what I could be, what I will be, what I search for. There are no wrong decisions. There cannot be. The universe is unfolding as it should. The world only spins forward. And we are circling a great ball of light. And she is fire. And she spits embers. And she knows far, far, far more about this neighborhood of the universe than I could ever begin to imagine. And even our small sun is tiny. One of billions. One small speck. I am small. And humble. And I know nearly nothing. And I am just watching this world unfold around me. And I am just watching time suck the light out of this day. And I am watching time float around me in spirals and I am a fool to think that I could know any better than any blade of grass that is sitting before me. I am walking and the path is always there. There are no mistakes. Just grandeur that expands. And somehow responds. And somehow, I know not how…but somehow…the world responds to me. Something listens. And something moves. It always does. And when I believe…it always comes back around. Not in the way you’d expect. Not in the way I’d ever expect. And THAT is the relationship. The knocking me down on my ass. Making me laugh. Showing me I know nothing. It always comes back in the most unexpected way. But brilliantly crafted. If you’re looking. If you’re paying attention. You can see threads pulling you towards something that you always are.

But that’s what it is. The strangest relationship with the silence. That is always 10 thousand times more intelligent than I am. Has a sense of humor. And of course is far more interesting than any silly story seems to express.

I don’t know if everyone’s life is unfolding in this way and they just don’t pay attention to it. Or if attention makes it respond. I don’t know. In quantum physics I think the act of paying attention makes the particle respond. But I don’t know the details and the details and none of us do. All we can see is what we observe. And our methods of observing and our tools for observing are fairly primitive (on the scale of the universe). So I don’t know what’s happening. All I can say is what I observe. And what I experience. And what I experience is that the universe responds to faith. And the universe responds to the grace of believing in hope. And holding on to trust.

We see what we want to see. Yes. Certainly. Isn’t that what I’m saying exactly? Isn’t that the point? And at what point does our perception become our reality? At what point is it objectively real. Well. At what point is ANYTHING objectively real. Isn’t it all an assemblage of images being made sense of in our brain? Well then. Send them through again. Infuse your circuits with trust rather than fear. With hope rather than anger. And see what your reality is. And see how the universe responds. That is the part I cannot prove, I cannot make sense of, and I cannot pinpoint to definitive logic. But it is what I experience. And many others. And at a certain point, it lives beyond proof. It is what it is. And it is the wordless response in the silence. It is that wind pushing you behind your back and it is that endless spinning forth the earth is dancing with. It is that fantastic friend gravity and the intention behind its impulse to hold fast and true. To never falter or fail. To tie us together rather than fly us apart. That strange, stunning, mystery companion. The strongest, deepest voice in your mind which you trust above all others.

Maybe God IS in our head. I’ve never understood why that would mean it’s not real? Isn’t it ALL in our head? Whatever part of our mind can conceive of grace, divinity, belief itself – that in itself may be it. If we are consciousness, and we are conscious of…even an idea…on some level…that has power. And on a collective level, it creates true relevance. And the universe responds. Because we are the universe perceiving itself. And everything is just a dream. So we bring it into existence and it is in existence. We pull on the thread and the thread comes into being. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it is that primal part of our consciousness which is above and beyond and before all words. That knows all things. Deep intuition. And we all have it wired into our brain, we just have to tap into it. Cultivate it. Trust it. Walk it like a tightrope.

I’ve always found it’s like that ridiculous sensation of thinking about something that can’t be thought, articulating some thing that can’t be articulated…Those moments when I’ve really felt like I was really on the path. I was totally connected and committed to everything…I was walking some divine path and everything was falling into place…it’s like trying to remember some word you’ve never been told. Like as soon as you name it, it vanishes. That’s how trying to describe my experience of God and with God is. As soon as I try to name it…it disappears. If I try to find it…it hides. But in the strangest, most honest and clear moments of my life…when I am finally not TRYING suddenly it is everywhere all at once. And you can’t find the path again to get there. But when you’re there you can feel it.

But then I don’t believe you could ever be on the right path because I don’t believe you could ever be on the wrong path. There is just the path. Unless the universe responds. And you can alter your path. Or maybe it is all right. There are supposed to be moments when you feel lost. And moments when you feel like you’re walking the right path. It’s all a dream anyway. And it’s all creating the drama of your life. So that you believe that any of this matters. So that in context these things can exist. If you were always walking the right path you wouldn’t even know it was the right path. Or that it was anything at all. Things only get these tints and shades and feelings and chasms and mountains because of the context. Because of the landscapes against one another. Otherwise it is not desert it is simply what is. But with this wild country we live in, we are given everything. We are a part of everything. America’s landscape is ans diverse as every other aspect of it. I’ve always loved the poetry built in to the world. And I don’t just think it’s poetry. I think we ARE a reflection of the land in a very real way. The climate, the land, the movements of the bodies of sea and water shape us in a very real way.

Oh jeez. Talk about tangents. Like 10 different ones. This is why I need an editor.

And free will is a fucker.

Being with a baby’s consciousness is a strange and wonderful thing. So many are so quick to just simplify it or mock it or assume that it is nothing really. But there is something happening that is for sure. And it is wonderful to engage with a baby’s weird mind. Their intention, their passion and the strange way that they think. Surely they think, that is clear…but the full breadth of what their consciousness entails is a sort of wonderful mystery to engage in. We are incredibly quick to demote all forms of consciousness that aren’t ours. What an animal experiences, what a plant experiences, what a baby experiences or an older person…our fear of the unknown and our need to dominate creeps out in a thousand silent ways and this is one of the most uninteresting ways that we try to dominate the world. Just to assume that consciousness that is not ours is somehow less than. Is not fully functioning. That we are the apex and everything other than is below. But it brings me back to the wonder beyond words and the profundity that works beyond the trite and petty things that we obsess on. The limited range of words that we confine ourselves to. What moves beyond words, beyond language is profound on a whole other set of levels. What speaks in movement, in color, in impulse and in passion is a whole set of poetry we cannot even understand. Especially when we choose to move it to the fringes of what is valuable or valid. Everything is valid. Every consciousness has something profound, its own song, its own melody and its own incredible world that would EXPAND us to engage with. But expansion is scary and letting go of ego is scary and it feels wonderful to sit at the top and imagine that we have the keys on what it means to be conscious and we are as evolved as you can get. And everyone is wiser than we are. And is laughing at us. Our ambition, our petty words, our monumental waste. The earth will be just fine without us, it is OURSELVES that we are killing. The earth will survive no matter what we do to it…but we’ll kill ourselves in the process. Do not belittle the unknown. It is every bit at profound as the nonsense we keep recycling through our brains and mouths. If not more so. Infinitely moreso.

And I don’t know how you can’t be marveled at the strange and wondrous world of tiny buzzing creatures, often with sparkling shells that fly on miniature wings…singing in choruses through the summer nights. We are so quick to connote anddemote and demystify and simplify and say that these are god forsaken pests. And yes, a there are some negative ones and some negative aspects…but just as there would be in any category of the world.

A tiny winged creature that lights up and flies through the summer nights? That sounds like a fairy to me. The world is what we give it and we keep wishing for the grander, for the greener grass, for the time that was, that will be, or that lives only in our preposterous, childhood imaginations. But there are so many unexplained mysteries in THIS world and there are so many ways of looking at the world that quickly and easily open the door to a world of MORE. And perhaps it is that is what we need to work towards finding. The awe and wonder at each bizarre piece of our lives. A magical ticking machine that flies us down the roads at high speeds and takes us places far further than we could ever hope to go otherwise? What a fantastic thing is a car.

It is in newness, novelty and perspective that we find magic and wonder. When we approach a car as a fantastic machine – it becomes this for us. For the most part, we quickly fall to habit and disenchantment and disillusionment. And all it takes is will and motivated observation to make the world novel again. To see the world through new eyes. It can be difficult, but it can be done.

There are a lot of things I’ll never understand in this life. How people can be so cold and cruel to one another. The narcissists in my life. In my family. I grieve for my brother Richard for he dead to the world. And everything is really fucked up. And I don’t have a clue how to proceed with any of these relationships. The loss of so many in my life is getting to be overwhelming.

Well, this is one magnificent storm billowing out my windows. And the summer is swelling around my house and banging at my windows and flashing through these tiny, late hours of the night. And Jamie is curled on my chest. And sometimes he is so sweet I think I might just melt into a thousand tiny pieces.

That place beyond words. That is where everything happens. The place where music lives, and magic and mystery and all those poems in the silence. That place that moves faster than thought, deeper than words, and is meaning itself. That place beyond words where the abstract lives. That is where I feel at home. That is where everything good and rich and true happens. Where the music is.

And life is only beautiful, magical, meaningful BECAUSE we are trapped in these tiny, fragile, subjective bodies. To see the whole of the whole of the whole and to hear all the words at once and to understand their meaning would rid the world of poetry. And to understand any objective truth would devoid these small, subjective lives of meaning. But we get these blinders on and our eyes can only see in front of our heads and our brains can only carry so many tiny, fragmented memories and then the context, oh the gorgeous context. And then the meaning comes. And the magic and the meaning and the mayhem of life. So thank you for this strange concoction of a body I am trapped in. This veil through which I can see all things anew. The small, unremembering brain of Jamie creates the most wondrous context for him. And all things are new. And all things are fascinating and worth everything in the world. And he can hardly stand to go to sleep because he wants to devour the world with his eyes and his ears. And what a strange gift we keep getting. To forget the world, start over, and see everything anew again.

But that wordless place we come from….where are there are no more words left, or no more words yet, or no more words needed…that is a beautiful place I am always longing to go as well.

I wish we could really approach life like that. With wide open arms towards that glorious mystery at the end. With loving anticipation of that release. Of forgetting and remembering everything. Of falling back into that music at the heart of things. Of flying back out into the wind and flowing back through the rivers. Back to that place we all are. All of the ancestors are everywhere, perhaps, watching through every tree, through every blade of grass. But not death…no, I don’t believe in death. And I don’t believe in heaven. I believe in a mystery far grander than anything we could imagine with our silly minds. I can feel some deeper music that calls from the beginning and the end and I think I cannot even imagine how my consciousness would transform. Probably just dissolve like light, but I don’t presume to have any idea. I can just feel that it is good. Beyond the word good. Beyond the word bad. It is just a song that keeps singing and a wind that keeps dancing. And in the flow of water – there is everything. Life, death, ancestor, birth. Everyone is so much nearer and so much farther than we can imagine. And consciousness is such a silly thing to be worried about lasting. The collective consciousness…maybe every thought we have is always carried, every impulse, ever minute belief and wish and poem of our mind is imprinted on the everlasting, universal pool of consciousness we all draw from. That place where all words come from. Where all thoughts meander into our minds. Maybe. Maybe there are a thousand ways of imagining it and they all still pale in comparison to what the great mystery actually is. All I can feel, with my truest heart, is that it is love. And nothing to fear. And everything to be joyous and celebratory about. It is pure freedom. Finally able to fly. Back to the universal, back to the light. If I try to think about Kristey, that’s what I feel. And I forgot the anniversary of her death this year, which was August 1. It’s always a beautiful day and I always feel close to the pulse of that song which is never ending. And it always gives me something stronger than hope. More concrete than happiness. It is that sense of being connected to what is hiding under the veil, to what is flowing through the river, to what is shining in the sun’s rays. It is that reality deeper than reality that is flowing everywhere. And death just brings us deeper. Just brings us closer. And that is something I am grateful for. And that is something I wish the world would see. There is no fear in love. There is no fear in death.

I would never trade anything for being able to sleep with Jamie. It is just the sweetest and most rewarding experience of my life. He is such a magnificent boy all curled up in the darkness with his tiny chest bounding up and down. Today I stood on the canal holding him in my arms and just wished I could just keep this moment. Just keep this one tiny moment. His soft hair just under my chin and the August air just casting all the plants into a dreamy fervor and swarming through the water below my feet…just dancing along, just dancing along. And this little one still tiny enough to be in my arms. But he’s starting to get too big now and I’m not ready for that. But he’s holding on tightly, wrapping his legs around my waist and wrapping his sweet little arms around my neck and trying to bury his head in my neck or rest it on my shoulder just so. And it breaks my heart into a thousand windless pieces and it just makes me dissolve into this love I never knew was coming for me. I never knew all this time I was searching for this. And that it would last for so long and for so short. A small eternity tucked into a tiny slice of a year. And I am beyond grateful for it. And it is beyond enough. More love and more blessings than few ever get. And so I have to say thank you, it is enough. I cannot ask for anything more from this world. The universe has given me more than I could ever ask for. I just have to keep myself in gratitude. Keep finding that never-ending gratitude that swells around me and makes me whole. Just keep bringing myself into that light.

So thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. Grateful is the place where I want to dwell. And fearless.

The world means a great many things right now and hardly any of them make any sense. The wind is fervent and the grass is getting dry and yellow in places…but the summer is high and the morning is low. I am just still wandering through myself trying to find any piece I can hold on to.