Me = Us

once upon a time, i was pursued. i'll never know whether that "process" was because of my looks at the time or something else; after all, i was just being me and that "me" sure started to piss him off right about the time i needed his help of friendship and love the most. But, as the me was there from the time we met until the time he left the "process" of wanting to be with me, it feels like my looks at the time were a big part of the attraction. Nevertheless, as I said, I don't KNOW.

it's entirely possible i have found the thing that never changes; that never moves; the thing Gangaji speaks of. It feels like it lives in my backbone and if i put a word on it, that word would be: kindness, goodness or consideration.

once, i sat in front of a rimpoche and he talked about compassion. someone asked, i think it was that same ol' me, "how can one have compassion for an abuser?" he distinctly did not understand the question and it was left unanswered. ironically, everyone in the audience thanked me for asking it. whoa.

now, toni morrison may have given me the answer when she said, "if you can only be tall because somebody else is on their knees, then you have a serious problem." She went on to say, "don't you understand that the people who do this thing, who practice [abuse], are bereft."

i don't really have a point here. maybe the point would be concerned with the socio-linguistics involved in the plural of "me" being "us."

Fossils and Wednesday Night

The fossils in my bathroom tile
Pointed out to me while...
covered in water and neroli oil
Devoted meanings of utter turmoil.






Today, I woke up late. I, again, did not give myself a chance to think about returning to Tokyo for a visit. Well, maybe...this time - I didn't even think about that identification. I changed into my preferred attire and drove to Taormina. I stayed at a table with J.D. , next to a kitchen and proofread Krishnamurti's Commentaries on Living (for 12 bucks an hour.) A start...a start to the circle within or without the circle.

Driving home to change into my work attire, I'm thinking, "this twisting and turning road is part of where I live; up high in the high desert - in a place the Europeans didn't find out about until much, much later. I'm going home to change into my work attire and, when I arrive, I'll walk down a path covered in fallen leaves and acorns.

I will change into my striped skirt and my sleeveless sweater and I'll put on my black jacket and my black knee-length boots. I will get in my car again and drive to my workplace. Once there, I will get a hug on the grassy campus from my friend, J.H. I will fit in, I will belong. And in the moment of this narrative, I trust that I will be getting into bed, will be closing my eyes or keeping them open - for however long it takes to fall asleep - being a part of this world.

Autumn Night in the High Desert

Galactic Cannibalism. The bigger galaxies get bigger and the smaller ones get eaten.

Lovvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvve.
To everyone who inspires others; I am everyone. Inspire me. Let me inspire you. Let the gap be filled or emptied with love.

Feeling weird.
Feeling sane.
"We are meaning-making machines."