j(una)

today was the first of august

and the light swam 'round me, dancing softly as the curtains would upon the frames of the open windows

the dusk poured through my frame, as I pedaled my bicycle passionately

enthralled by the motion of gliding

in the blue surrender

of night falling -

my palms graced the handlebars,

car keys jingled delightfully, bound to my pants' belt loop

and when I arrived from this small journey

I felt the cool rain of melancholy

drizzle

upon my brain -

it was time to drive,

from Aspen, back west on 82

yet, not all the way to the end of the valley -

rather, just down the way, a mere twenty minutes.

today was the first day of calm -

the first day of acceptance, 

of full, piercing realization.

today, I realized how dearly close

I am to beginning a new school year, over again.

memories of learning,

discussions with Klaus or Joseph,

it all appears to me

as this humming reverie

so sweet and joyous and radiant

I could not be more filled with excitement to begin again. 

august will allow me to begin again. 

tomorrow morning, I will focus on my art, I will make

I will organize, I will create

I will mentally align

I will become entranced by my inspirations

and form new reactions and ways of expressing

I will express

I will invent

I will express

I will begin. 

for future nostalgias

we cannot live deep in the past

for we will miss what is deeply present, surrounding us, in this realm of now

and yet we cannot live deep in the future

for those moments become stretched and distorted
like the glowing crimson R of the subway train I need to catch,
appearing as more of a D,

perhaps to prompt me :

Drive on. 

-

when our lives all end, our voices speak our last words

it is those fragments of memory

which eternalize us.

it is those photographs, those letters,

those Instagrams, those messages

those intensely clear moments of awareness

that you, my love, are alive, breathing. 

you are as you are,

not as you once were,

and not as you will once be.

simply you, now, here, quiet, breathing - still.

to never forget

oh to start, never forget a promise you've made or been made

and well goodness, I've forgotten the notion which compelled me to write a poem on this subject

but ah, 

it has been remembered.

a notion, 
to never forget:

how beautiful the unknown is.

how easy it is to breathe deeply, to return to calm.

the past should be reflected upon, but not dwelled,

the present is precious and ripe with possibility,

the future is wonderfully mysterious; never frightening if in the right state of mind.

never forget to peel away the thick outer-layer of your heart which masks the tender succulence beneath, that it is.

never forget to take it slow, listen then speak, when overwhelmed by all.


the clock ticks and objects dangle and rest

just as my crochet dress cascades upon the white wooden shutter of my window

it hangs as a curtain, though time never anticipated it would.

the once-future sculpted its present self.

today, the garment a decoration for my bedroom

tomorrow, the garment a decoration for my body


the metaphors pour into and out of one another, 

and the clock tells me it's time for sleep.


never forget, to let yourself rest. 

to learn

I wish to learn more about the aesthetic in which my mind operates,

because while most often I find myself fixated with the beautiful and the delicate -

I know that there are other realms of imagery I can find myself enthralled by.



so essentially, it is zen I am attempting to embody

the spirit of meditation itself,

the aroma of chamomile, lavender, jasmine tea,

the texture of handmade pottery, 

the weightlessness of smooth winds, 

   rushing unto my skin just as soft waves crash unto shore -

allow me to fill with the emotional energy of the sky

. . .

returning

it's been quite awhile since I've felt this way

nevertheless, I am overjoyed to have returned to this state of mind.

a sense of peace fills me with grace, so softly, gently

though I am sturdy as a tree's seemingly impenetrable trunk -

yes, to human hands, the cylindrical vessel of bark layers feels impossible

and thus, almost magical.


to travel onward with my thoughts,

I must express the handful of promises I am in the midst of making to myself.

I. to appreciate beauty

II. to remain composed and conscious of my own understanding of poise

III. to dismiss negative energy as quickly as possible

IV. to love with great passion and sincerity

V. to sustain an aura of kindness to all

VI. to be aware of my own thoughts and emotions in a way that allows for maximum internal and external growth

VII. to release tension with grace and ease

VIII. to fill and empty with inspiration ceaselessly

IX. to listen deeply to others and attempt to understand them as best as I can

X. to accept what is and know that Grandma Norma's sayings can heal any kind of wound



please, sweet self of mine,

listen to yourself and remember the being who filled with radiance, light, energy, goodness, and purity each time she practiced yoga. 

travel onwards to reach and transcend the essence of that being.

and never cease to imagine what may now seem unbelievably beautiful.

"have faith in the future," I once told a good friend.

she said she'd always remember that.

and because of that, I'll always remember too.


{namaste}

Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman

(59) 

I know I am solid and sound,
To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow,
All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.

(62)

I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also. 

allow peace to be the way
breathing, the rhythm
mind, empty
heart, whole.

allow love to be the practice
of peace
for love is expressing peace
and understanding
of yourself
so much so
that you have the ability
to share it with someone else
in a beautifully delicate
affectionate 
way.

I cannot think of a much more human quality
than to feel perpetually compelled to express.