Tides

I grew up in America’s industrial heartland, far from majestic mountains and mysterious seas. I am a hardscrabble street urchin; forever fascinated with all that lies beyond my far horizons.

I am drawn to peaks and valleys, I dream of oceans deep. I’ve seen too little and understand much less. It is that insatiable hunger that compels me, propels me, to sit atop a mountain and wet my toes in the sea.

I am fascinated by ocean tides. I’m enthralled by the very notion that the moon and sun transform the earth and its vast oceans. Celestial bodies sing their songs and oceans run to greet them. The earth, itself, morphs and is transformed. First, there’s water. Then, there’s land. All that we once witnessed is no more...transfigured shores leave me transfixed.

And so it is with life and love. At high tide, there is only the ocean, nothing but sea, blue water and power and mystery. Heavenly bodies then sing and tempt, revealing the dry land hidden beneath. At low tide, earth’s stones lie barren, exposed, revealed. And so it goes...
the rhythm of Life. Truths we knew exist no more. What we come to learn drowns and disappears hours later.

* * *

The Power of Good-Bye

Your heart is not open, so I must go
The spell has been broken...I loved you so
Freedom comes when you learn to let go
Creation comes when you learn to say no

You were my lesson I had to learn
I was your fortress you had to burn
Pain is a warning that something's wrong
I pray to God that it won't be long

(Do ya wanna go higher?)

There's nothing left to try
There's no place left to hide
There's no greater power than the power of good-bye

Your heart is not open, so I must go
The spell has been broken...I loved you so
You were my lesson I had to learn
I was your fortress...

There's nothing left to lose
There's no more heart to bruise
There's no greater power than the power of good-bye

Learn to say good-bye
I yearn to say good-bye

There's nothing left to try
There're no more places to hide
There's no greater power than the power of good-bye
There's nothing left to lose
There's no more heart to bruise
There's no greater power than the power of good-bye

* * *

Physical Words

I have a love-hate relationship with words. In a very real sense, words have been my vocation. Sure, they were technical terms, mostly. Thousands upon thousands of words offered in memoranda, depositions and reports. I made my living by proffering words, factual words, for employers and clients to digest in return for recompense. Words put food on my table, paid for the roof over my head. Words paved my career and financed my life.

Words have been my avocation. Words encountered in poesy transported me to dreams. Words discovered in novels, words heard in song, words uttered from the stage, words of historians, shamans, biographers, philosophers and scientists taught me everything I’ve come to know, admire and revere. My skull would be empty without words. I’ve loved so many and have learned so much.

But...(there’s ALWAYS a “but”)...there are the physical words. They may not appear menacing at first. More often than not, they were uttered in (somewhat) good faith. My ears once heard the following:

“You are my lover for life...you are my future”

Then she left. The soft words, the beautiful words, morphed to fists and razors.

There was the lover who met another and informed me that: “When I look at him no one else exists.”

Words such as these are physical. They bruise. They stab and tear...leave gaping, burning wounds that never heal. Once soft words become instruments of torture. Loving words, in a different light and a different time, transform into cudgels and knives.

My heart is scarred. My heart is black and blue contused. My heart bleeds from open wounds that never seem to heal.

There are words...profound and satisfying and beautiful words. And there are words...the physical words that destroy the body, mind and soul.

* * *

"I am struck by how difficult it is to get back to something we knew to be true once we have been converted, forced by circumstances, or simply denied and turned away from it, to whatever lonely mess we have managed to make since."
- Terrance Keenan

* * *

A Melancholy State

I fell into a woeful melancholy state this evening. I didn’t see it coming.

I suppose the gray winter sky played a role. The scudding clouds.
The cutting wind. I felt chilled as I went about my business. The day was raw and night came early. Still, I did not anticipate nor perceive the Damoclean veil of blue that hovered overhead.

Perhaps it was the wine I sipped at dinner. Then again, wine (more often than not) opens doors to whimsy not dolor (in this reprobate, anyway).

No. The melancholy came later. I had been feeling restless lately.
I had shed the weight I had gained courtesy of my anti-depressants. I’ve been lighter on my feet. My clothes hang loosely, comfortably. They now afford the freedom of movement I relish. With that new-found ease of movement came wanderlust. I felt the need to sally forth, to tread new trails...experience the World...again.

And so I fell into a reverie, indulging myself with visions of places never seen, never sensed, never experienced. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to visit Europe again (but the US dollar had been too weak...thus, travel too expensive). Times have changed (Oh, how they've changed!). The dollar is strong (temporarily), the Euro weak.

The time to GO is now.

My reveries grew explicit. Where to go? What to see? I’d been hankering to visit Prague and Budapest, but the season there has changed, just as it has changed outside my window and my own front door.

I thought of Spain or Italy. Ah! Methinks they would suit just fine! And then the fog descended. My soul was filled with Blue. I realized I’m no longer the solitary adventurer I used to be. I hunger for a true companion, a kindred wandering spirit to share in the journey, the adventure and the experience. But...I have no one.

It was then that the blue fog descended.

That was when the tears began to fall.

* * *

On Veterans Day

Have you been to “The Wall”? Have you stood before the polished black granite bearing 58,195 names? Have you gone there in the middle of the darkest night, only to find two or three others standing or collapsed, mourning, remembering? Have you been to "The Wall" in a hard rain? On a glorious summer’s day? In the dead of winter when all is hushed and slumbering?

Have you been to "The Wall" to reflect upon the many tokens of undying love, admiration, respect and sorrow tenderly placed there? Have you gone there to pray? Did you kneel and bow your head? Did you cry?

You should.

* * *

Election Recap

* * *

Voices

So many voices!

I believe I’ve had my fill.

We’ve come to the end of a seemingly interminable election cycle.
So many voices! Voices bloviating, prevaricating, slandering, promising, obfuscating, ranting, spewing, exhorting, inspiring, deflating, defaming, confusing, shouting, muttering, analyzing, debating and persuading. So many voices...too many voices.

In the end, we the people elected a man of considerable promise.
A man of intellect, compassion and composure. I wish to celebrate
in silence, if only for a little while.

We’re floundering in a sea of economic woe. So many voices! Voices lying, crying, denying, panicking, fear-mongering, begging, fretting, pontificating, testifying, hawking, swearing, blaming and praying.

The damage is done. Three decades of unbridled greed and blatant corporatism have come home to roost. I would rather contemplate my Nation's economic demise in silence.

Then there are the voices of those whom I love. Just a few too many, sorry to say. Telling me they’ve found another. Informing me of illnesses and death. The voices remain beloved forever...but pain overwhelms. I wish to grieve in silence.

So many voices! I’ve truly had my fill. In times like these I dream
of running far, far away to join a caravan of wandering mimes.

If there is to be a voice to fill my ears, let it be a soothing, kind and trusted one that softly whispers from a pure, true heart directly to my very own. A gentle voice in the dark of night to fill me with dreams and hope again.

* * *

This is how it works
You're young until you're not
You love until you don't
You try until you can't
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe
Until their dying breath

No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don't get harmed
But even if it does

You'll just do it all again

Regina Spektor

* * *