colorflow

when you came through the gates this time, clarity had melted and all the world pulsed open before you. streams of colorflow, dripping. as if the universe were bleeding life and you were bleeding out in its beating flow -- bleeding out through a hole which you never before noticed, but of which you were the creator.

homecoming

in darkness, even the brilliant reds are muted to shadow; even the shouts of yellow fall silent; even the majestic violets of heart and home are made a pale shade of grey. when i finally reach shore, i will bring many colors. my gift will be a gift of colors. meanwhile, wave to me as i go by.

on endings

when his young son was sick, the father sat in ashes and cried, ripped his clothing and wept. he left his being behind and suffered through the uncertainties of shadow. day in, day out. the uncertainties of shadow, and the alluring -- if slim -- possibility of yes. when his son died, he finally rose from the ashes and returned to his being. he returned now even to the joys of living. for with his son, the possibility of yes was finally buried. and from the shadow of unknowing he could finally return to life. sometimes, the closing of a 'maybe it's yes' to a harsh, but clear, 'it's definitely no' can revive the spirit and open its space of breath. yesterday, i sustained the painful end to a 'maybe it's yes.' in the 'no,' i now return to life.

reflections in solitude

kindness pours open a pool of light -- that sacred place where words and colors surge up even in the utter silence of grey. so sit, sit by your own reflection and put out your hand. If you are kind, someone will hold it. (be patient: some of the most beautiful souls are still finding their way to you).

carnage rising (holocaust memorial day)

when human hearts become dispensable, we all descend to hell. this starts in your ice. it takes its root in your desire to be strong, strong, strong, little man, to be strong, strong, strong -- in your need to be invincible, superman, in your need to be invincible; know what I mean? (to the victims of this and every other human error: ascend; lose memory of their eyes, and ascend).

inside

sometimes you are made to sit alone. so sit. sit in your tree with the fire and it will warm you. and if the universe is lucky, it will warm one or two others too.

when you're eleven...

... sometimes you have wings

velvet encounter

music and the feel of warmth
swirling colors of light
almost now like fingers

...and then i said...

so, it turns out that sometimes the start of things is not always where they start. know what i mean?

care and the between

"They show me to the door,
They say don't come back no more
'Cause I don't be like they'd like me to,
And I walk out on my own
A thousand miles from home
But I don't feel alone
'Cause I believe in you"
(Bob Dylan, "I believe in you", 1979)


dark flowers don't always speak away the sun. sometimes they invite it in. thank you for the sun.

friendship, refrigeration, and the sacred

"…Even now a real decision is made [in me], whether [i] face the speech of god articulated to [me] in things and events – or [escape]. And a creative glance towards [my] fellow-creature can at times suffice for response" (Buber, Between Man and Man; Dialogue, p. 45).

thank you for leaving a watch in my refrigerator (!). it feels like friendship.

first things

"...your life is not limited to that ungraspable inner streaming; it streams to the outside as well and opens itself incessantly to what flows out or surges forth towards it. The lasting vortex which constitutes you runs up against similar vortexes with which it forms a vast figure, animated by a measured agitation. Now to live signifies for you not only the flux and the fleeting play of light which are united in you, but the passage of warmth or of light from one being to another, from you to your fellow being or from your fellow being to you (even at the moment when you read in me the contagion of my fever which reaches you)..." (Georges Bataille, Inner Experience, p. 94)