underneath

"Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies"
 mother thersa

I live with a slight fearlessness which can sting like nettle.
Conformity is an illusion of being saved from aloneness.
I have a choice to go bravely into tonight and tomorrow and see the beauty in still moments.
Like a photographer, I pause time.
Like a journalist, I examine each angle.
no judgement.
I am looking for.....
Something pious.

What happens when you finish your cup of tea in the morning and have no where to go?  No class, no work, no obligations.  Perhaps, boil more water and keep it coming.
attention, attention, attention
That is the only way anything happens in this life.
I observe my emotions like tiptoeing across a fresh frozen pond.
I am cautious.

Remember the story about the cloud and rain.
Every raindrop is screaming "I am the same peaceful cloud on a sunny day"
There is no end to these hands/fingers, pen/paper, tree/ink, water, minerals, soil, seed, waste.
This heartbeat is felt in a rhythmic wave across the page.
Through the space in this room.
Beyond walls, beyond time.
The connection is infinite.
Your eyes complete the.......... no, they are yet another ripple in this thought.
I do not need anything or anyone to provide happiness.
I feel like an actress sometimes putting on a grand and not so grand performance for free.

I feel sometimes I am surrounded by disease and death.
There will be a change to a new paradigm.
A transition to survive.
No oil.
No food.
No amount of technology or human ingenuity can change or turn over the laws of the universe and physics.
What to do.....
Learn how to live off the land.
Buy gold.
store seeds.
We will fail as rugged individuals.
We must live as members of community and family.

"Can I just share your pillow as we sit?"  I asked my friend in a dream.  He silently scooted over.  

I have been dreaming allot about the Appalachian trail.  

Reading dreaming thinking.  

It is silly b/c I know once i am there I will find myself missing this warm bed indoors.  

I love my life because I make stories.  

Because I do it all the time, I am very good at it.  

I love my eyes because I can see the world around me.  

"Wouldn't you like to live in Montana?"  someone asked me.  

Why yes, that sounds fantastic.  But my heart has pulled me east and tugs me to the somber hills in the south.