The evening

darkening…

love to watch the sky becomes deeper blue and the earth solidifies into one color. It is 5 pm, a tiny corner of Northern Hemisphere. A negligible presence in time and space… but, still an existence, an existence that thinks and feels… angry, frustrated, despaired, hopeful, hopeless, wandering, stopping, looking up, looking down, looking back, looking forward, afraid of being lonely, impossible of putting up with a crowd, wanting to cuddle, pushing away, looking for something, turning back against everything, open palms, landing in silence, and taking in colors, lights, life.

a heavy tannin red wine.
what I want now… aired for an hour or so, tannin gripping my tongue with its full presence, that short-lived volatility, that, that I want. But I don’t have a patience. If I open a good wine (relatively expensive for my spending in my present financial), I just drink right away. I don’t have anyone who would open a bottle an hour ahead for me and wait. I was too used to a certain type of things… spoiled in that way. Grapes, cheese, olives that I didn’t participate in prep, white napkins, aerated wine in a decanter… delicate large wine glasses shaped to intensify the flavor to the most… extra thin for a sweet touch to the lips… the weird things remain in the memory. I repulsed each one of the people on those tables deep down, even though I didn’t know what I felt at those times.

the memories don’t remain in order.
I’ve never thought I could raise a dog, live in a country, take the trashcans out in dark. But when I take out the trashcan out, always happen after dark somehow, the fresh air stings my nose like a surprising scent of nature, looking up the sky with thousands of stars in the cold night, or the purply dome with cloudy darkness, I feel the total presence of me on earth in awe with a full heart… nothing matters, nothing matters at all, except me, being here. And if one other soul exists feeling the same way at a brief crossing moment of time, that would be enough, more than enough for me, in this life… in this life.

When an owl found a way home.

Dread is she, and with Ares she loves the deeds of war,
the sack of cities and the shouting and the battle.
I
t is she who saves the people as they go to war and come back.”

– Homeric Hymn, Greek epic C7th to 4th B.C. –

 

Winter got heavier as she drove up north.

Two dead bodies in the trunk.

Earth stiffened under her shovel.

Skulls whistled as a wind blew.

A song of tragedy hummed all along the way that night. And an owl found a way home.

 

A Simple Thing

I found only one glove, for the right hand.
When I walked my dog this morning, my left hand found a refuge in the pocket of my winter coat. What a comfort! My coat had a pocket! Then, something bothered the arch of my left foot. A small object was inside of my snow boot. The pokes made me limp a little when I walked. I thought of stopping to check that out, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to disturb my pup’s exhilarating morning exploration. I kept walking. After a while, the object in my boot moved to my heel and it felt a bit better. I didn’t have to limp. I was satisfied with the fact that I didn’t have to do anything to lessen my discomfort. At some point, when my dog indulged in an interesting spot, I stopped walking, took off my boot, and shook it upside down to remove the thing that bothered me. Then, we walked again. I felt the joy of being free of bothering object in my shoe.
A simple thing, an addition or a removal of it from life, gives a joy. Sometimes, it gives more joy than a long-aspired success, promotion, or achievement. Or I wonder, is it just me feeling that way. But it seems it doesn’t matter. If I feel that way, then, my universe should feel that way.

My universe… even if it doesn’t exist without me, I cannot understand it.
Why do I like some people? Sometimes, the opposite happens. I tried, I said. I really tried to like him or her, but I couldn’t. A simple thing, a small detail, or some unknown reason that I couldn’t figure out, made others repulsive to me. I should be grateful that there are still people who want to be close to me. I really tried! But I couldn’t bring myself to the place where my repulsion subsides in the presence of those people. Maybe chemicals, or hormones, or something other… My universe seems not needing my understanding at all… it has its own way of making the things up without my participation.

Up and down. Ups and downs. Melody and beats.
Blind me with your hands. My eyes don’t need to sense something, something that I want, something that I feel… I only need my ears and heart. Watch out, you might get hurt! A giant pit right before your step. Or a wall right before your nose. The socially conditioned mind talks. Don’t worry, I’m not moving, I’m just here, listening, with all my senses… just blow a gentle breeze with your breath, I’d listen, I’d feel, I’d drown into the delicacy of the moment, the flow, the waves… sweep me, wash me… the voice, the hands, my sense… leave it there, to the eternity.

Intangible, indescribable… can I prove their existences?
Sometimes, stronger than anything else I’ve experienced in my life. Physics, math, science, and proofs. Forget it! I don’t need more math to get the correct change at a coffee shop. If there is something that nothing can prove, nothing can describe, nothing can compare, that is surely in the realm of God, I’d use the expression, “divine”. Simple, divine. That is all I need in my universe. No need to understand, no need to explain… just a joy and beyond… I’ll close my eyes… with all my senses open. Then, my universe expands, to the beyond, to the realm of beyond human, or deeply human.

<November 12th, 2018>

Howl

9 am, the half moon at the tip of yellow leaves among white clouds in the blue, blue sky. I doubted my eyes and looked at it over and over again.
9:20 am, I can’t see it anymore, the clouds get fluffier, maybe behind or maybe the other side of the earth.

What ails me?

Is there a reason behind the direction we are moving in life? Does choice matter? Am I a coward who always runs away when things get uncomfortable?

What ails me?

I know the exact desperation he had at that time. I often think how he holds up, how he survives… I might have been suffocated in his shoe. I’m a selfish little shit hiding across the ocean.

Drink a cup of hot ginger tea. It will warm you up. She says, I nod.
Your feet are always cold. He says. I know, I say.
What is the cure for the soul that wonders, wanders, goes astray. Take her home, close up the wound, I will lay your head on the soft pillow and wrap you in a warm blanket. Then, the hurt starts kicking and the restless soul stomps the front door again and gets lost in the dark. Into the middle of the night… howl, get low, and sleep. The wind blows over the body that gets cold and stiff. The blood gets sticky and won’t flow. Shut up, let her sleep. The colorless leaves fell over her making a little dump on the ground. The night sky… with the thick clouds.
No star, no moon.

9 am. A white dog and a woman walk on the path.
The dog looks up and glances the tip of the tall tree. There it is. Over the top of the yellow leaves… the white half moon falls into her eyes. It is okay, it is all good. She thinks. The dead leaves wail under her feet… singing the song of the last night, the winter… the sleep.

<October 31st, 2018>

 

A pond

Doubt eats everything… myself, my mind, my decision, my thinking… eats me to the bones. Sometimes, it eats my naively optimistic attitude blindly trusting the universe that everything would turn out just fine.

I hit a truck this afternoon at the parking lot. The red plastic cover of the brake light of my car fell off. My upset mind from this morning fell off with it. The upset mind… no real shape in the real world… Stimulus from the outside ripples the shallow mind as a small pond wrinkles by the wind. The winter freezes its face to the sky.  It would take only one warm day to melt its frosty face down erasing the memory of ice. What am I holding in that space? below under?

Inside, deeper down, the place that the wind or the outside temperature cannot sneak in. Some place where unshakable, unreachable… maybe a little star. And it lits. A golden glow sits there waiting for me to submerge, leaving all the floating doubts on the surface. “Underneath of all, everything is okay.” It says. “always.”

<October 8th, 2018>