On Want

I wanted to write about the nature of wanting and then I talked with a good friend last night about all different sorts of wants and decided I want to tell you about how most days I think I could be very happy on a ranch, running around with horses and dogs and maybe some cows or something.

I do not know why I think this.

Except for yes, mostly I do.  I like to think that I would be "good" at living the simple life.  Simple for me = less noise + more quiet + less electronic shit + more outdoors goodness.  I like to think that a big move, a change of scenery, a different pace equals simple.  I suppose it's not that easy, though, right?

When I reflect on my current state of affairs, sometimes this doesn't seem too far away.  A sense of an ending in this weird but achingly lovely city doesn't necessary seem imminent, but at the same time I can't rule it out entirely just yet.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that (you guessed it): I don't know.  Maybe the more I admit this the less terrifying it will become. Eh, probably not.

On Benefitting from Doubt

Remember that time I said I wanted to be taken advantage of? Scratch that. I definitely do not want that to happen.

I do still want to be kind and am trying to practice this skill daily. (Things tend to get easier the more you do them, good or bad...take that for what it's worth I suppose.)  I also realize that life for me is filled with far fewer wild adventures and many more quiet ones: interacting with humans, being outside, exploring.

Maybe re-learning how to be me is enough this year.  Maybe next year I get to re-learn how to be with others. Or maybe not.  Maybe I don't have holiday plans for the first time in my life and this is both terrifying and mildly okay.  Maybe being okay with the 'unknown' is an awkwardly small step in the direction of a much larger desire to be gracious in the art of letting go.

Whatever that means.

On Night Hikes and Why Being Alone in the Dark with Your Dog Isn't Always a Bad Idea

Because someone new
Because I am afraid
Because I am not in control
Because I am tired
Because the dark
Because I am nervous for the unknown
Because sometimes the things I desire are very far away
Because I am still hopeful
Because I am not easily charmed
Because I fall too quickly
Because she is one of my best friends
Because I still want to adopt
Because "I see that I'm a little piece in a big, big universe. And that makes things right."

Also, cohesion.

on still behaving shyly around eligible strangers.

I have a few things to say about this. (The photograph and others things.) Firstly, I did not take this picture. That acknowledgement goes to Johan Stolpe. Most of you know who the subject is.
Secondly, I'd like to give you some advice on walking trails with someone. If you love some one romantically, it's usually o.k. to let them know that. If you love some one platonically, it's usually even more o.k., too. What I have learned from many many days and hours and minutes is the importance of sweetness. What I mean is that if we are completely honest with ourselves there are a few handfulls of people on our trails that think, act, or do most exactly the same things as we do. More often than not, we may find ourselves trekking up and down hills with someone who has a little stronger opinions, or says weird things, or plays in the sand. We can either keep hiking or turn back in search of a traveling party who only eat marshmellows and wear Patagonia. Oftentimes, however, if we keep walking, or even just moving, our peculiar companions lead us to really great vistas, and greater sliding rocks, or the best kissing trees. So many times I have thought of turning back on this long journey to search for my marshmellow-loving, fleece-wearing strangers. But, I always meet the faces of my faithfully-opposite journeyers, especially one in particular, and I can't help but turn my heels and lengthen my stride to catch back up. There is always some thing more to show me just around that next bend.

stream

droplets form on the freshly sliced cucumber`s edges, &i dip them in ranch because it`s my worldview, even though my sister is allergic to it &gets red rashes around her lips when the chicken nuggets are over-exuberantly dipped.
&i did see you walking on the sidewalk, looking smugly sheepish grasping that pink-striped bag in your left hand, most likely wandering home to its eager recipient, or maybe the gesture is not that sweet, but it is only a wednesday, and i like to think we save most of our sinnings for the week`s end.

away we go

the side walks were all ready too full of plastic chairs, blankets, &masking tape for any sun god to appreciate, but we tread down them any way
to a small restaurant where i have my own favorite spot.

b: "she likes to sit in that little nook." [it`s true]

a: "i really like thai tea."
b: "i really like sushi." [gestures to his alaskan roll]
a: "me too!" [dips my avocado roll in to some soy sauce]
b: "but that`s not sushi."
a: "i know."

i want [need] a dog.

(Akira Liwanag / European Pressphoto Agency)

we awoke early this morning, without any encouragement from the sun.
so you followed me around until i was ready to go:
[oh! but you don`t have to deal with the necessities of clothes and under wears and clean teeth!]
"let`s go! let`s go!" you urge.
all right. all right.
it`s the same walk we stride every morning, the same sidewalk you refuse to tread on, the same mailbox you p...well, you know.
&while i am lost, musing over the night`s peculiarities, you snuffle around in the brush, a single purple flower caught on your chin.
but i have grown fond of our quiet adventures, interrupted only by the sounds of morning showers, kiddie pool frollicks, &good intentioned neighbours.
&i am beginning to descry life in a way that no car driver, bicycle pedaler, running footer, or solitary walker ever could.

my passport came today.

He catches me off guard
&it gets me every time.
turn the knob
push open the wood,
&there it is.
bathing my room in an ethereal glow.

you can`t have one without the other.

I miss the rains of kindness you showered over me so freely
That I did not even mind getting wet.
Oh, precious son, where have you gone?