On Ordinary

One of my favorite times with you was the Saturday morning you surprised me with coffee before work.  You told me you had heard of this really great place and even though I had no idea how significant a well-crafted latte would become to me, I was excited to be chauffeured to the office with a quick stop for caffeinated goodness on the way.

"What if I didn't work on Saturdays?" I mused as we walked back to the car.  I don't think you responded.

And so the morning drive continued without incident, you dropped me off right before the Farmer's Market vendors started unloading their trucks, preparing for the day's activities.

A few months later, I got Saturdays off and we both worked Monday through Friday like "normal" adults do.  This isn't super significant, except to say the surprise coffee trip only happened once.  And maybe it should have happened more, or maybe the novelty of it made it matter most to my aching yet hopeful heart.

And I am still trying to process these feelings and hurts and choices, but when is it enough?


I dreamed about you last night, so I figured this was the most appropriate form of response.

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.

in defense of nothing.

The royal we are still very young in terms of days and years. And so it startles my mellowing frame to find out how busy we are becoming. I feel bad when I don't have plans or goals, and even guilty if I spend an evening in "nothing." Buuuuut, I think there is still plenty of life left for me to be busy. I just hope that I can never in all honesty excuse myself from living because I am too busy for it. It seems strange, but we humans are good at making crooked paths straight. And excusing ourselves from life because of all that busyness re-aligns the road, so to speak.
I'm not saying that I haven't excused myself several times, but I hope I haven't put any of you on the back burner because of it. She is an attractive quality, but a stressful burden, if you really invest in her.
And I know there are all these verses in the Bible about being still and small voices and rest for weary souls. I'm fairly certain that Jesus took the gift of nothing seriously. And I'm pretty sure He knew how curious I'd become over a yoke that was so abnormally light.

On reading this somewhere.

"No resolutions, just change."

The Nap

Red cap, red cap, red cap,
Snug on your curled hair.

Blue eyes, brown eyes, green eyes,
All close eventually, lashes flutter.

Red plaid, red plaid, red plaid,
Loose round your soft waist.

Folded hands, folded hands, folded hands,
‘Cross your murmuring chest.

Blue jeans, blue jeans, blue jeans.
Sun-faded and torn on a barbed wire fence.

White shoes, white shoes, white shoes,
Mildewed laces dribbled in rain-puddles.

Lazy hammock, lazy hammock, lazy hammock,
Inspired the taciturn dreamer to sleep.

part 2.

to be unselfish &kind with hope &bright words,
&to plant flowers side by side in zig-zaggy rows.

yes, this is living.

little paper people chains

bitterness was broken today.
&forgiveness flowed freely from my mouth &hands.
&it was all most as though I had met you for the first time, for good.
it wasn`t cordiality, even.
we were fractured humans.
at our finest, bleeding all over the place.

I was a brute beast before You.

rest from the North wind.
rest from the South wind.
rest from the East and from the West.

"Yet I am always with You; You hold me by my right hand."