might all my steps, all since I have first roamed this earth, all my footprints, in hind new sight, become like glowing beacons under black-light, neon green pathways of where I have been, to see it all mapped out like that, a cartographer’s delight, a story, lines, paths crossing, intersecting, leading, tracing, back and forthing, the mundane, the unusual, the one timers, the two timers, the everyday worn down trails, what patterns they might reveal, the common or the familiar, pointing to family, friends and perhaps strangers, cousins or a dog park, the beach or just a long walk, meandering, spinning in the rain, peeking around a corner to spot a local deer, or standing quite still as the baby jack rabbit passes slowly, how many miles all these years, and I have never changed the oil, surely I am overdue, but I guess when I am due the engine is over, how many roads have I traveled, how many vistas toward have these feet drawn my form, all these neon zig-zags all over the floor, I wonder if some wonderful pattern might appear, a talisman, a mandala, some secret ancient symbol I have been drawing all these years without knowing, and then I might pull back, and rise up to the sky, looking down and seeing my creation from way up high, and the humbleness that will imply, as I see only over a few states my pattern’s eye, how much larger the world, or just this land is than I, I whisk the globe with my hand spin, seeing witness to all the lands, I have not been, and might never not be, the seas, I imagine walking the equator once round, just for the story, and back down, gently back to my grounded self consciousness, and look around, and up, no trace of me in the sky, one day I think, maybe, one day… I might become a constellation…
notes… one of those things that just came to me, and you don’t believe in inspiration ? you silly thing, what causes it, what moves it, what moves us… strangely, we have no idea, why does art exist ? what is the point? it does not feed babies, it does not raise cattle.. but yet… it persists… and always has, so the canvas, is the universe…
strange how life works, sometimes the path is laid out for you, literally, not even subtlety, it has been many years since I traveled Chain O Hills road, so many I can not even count or remember, but twice now, in two days time, I find myself on that winding road for quite different reasons, last night I happened to be working not far from my first ‘real’ job in Avenel, the job that was to be my future and lead to my Florida adventure, these do not even seem like my memories anymore they are so old, but they are, the streets all look the same, some businesses have changed, some remained, so many remain as they were a decade ago, the street signs, actually stone posts in that town, the weathered painted letters, I know all the curves of these roads, then today, today started out or at least in bursts there was sun, then, the aforementioned foreshadowing come as the temperature dropped lower as the day grew longer, and grayer, then the sky turned to a shallow rain, cold, not heavy, but enough to trip the wipers into action, by all accounts I was going to be home early for once, tired, as last night was not the best for sleeping, no reason why, just was, the client today was a bit grating but nothing I hadn’t seen or been burdened by before, my phone rings, an odd time for a call, how we know things are wrong, how our calls are as nearly calculated and reliable as a heartbeat, I pride myself on preparation, on mentally going through scenarios, but even inevitability stops you cold, the words, you have pretended to hear them so many times, like footsteps approaching, you just do not have the bus schedule in front of you, but surely the bus is en-route, so I digest the information, such as it is things always take a moment to sink in and calculate, to percolate, to transfer to the extremities of your internal network, the tingle in your fingers, palms sweating slightly, the situation, just a matter of how bad and what next, I wonder if I am speeding and have conversations in my head with officers should I be pulled over, am I over the limit? these roads I know so well, my backyard in a sense, but they seem longer and foreign now, in the night, the glaze of rain makes me extra cautious, I desperately need my GPS as my logic is seemingly off kilter, my brother calls, he too is on his way, a deep hardening in my diaphragm is like constriction, a corset, inside, if such a cinch is possible, my thoughts collide, I never want to assume the worst, but as you age and watch those you love age things become more acute, I know this route, I know this route but my mind is exploding with doubt, I wipe my hands, tune to the classical station to find some calm, try not to blow through the stop signs, trying to contain my mind expanding in so many directions, pulling up to the hospital, I just see “entrance” and that becomes a beacon, my goal, immediately, the parking lot is agonizing, a zig zag, a maze, torment, I rather park on the street and walk a block, so I do, I have never been to this place, as far as I recall, so I don’t know where I am going, scanning for my brother’s car, no where, my pulse is sharp, I need a moment to catch my breath, calm, calm myself, I’m at the front desk, and learn from the desk that the Emergency section is actually another street down, a couple of rights, the attendant asks me where I parked, I think, almost as if my ability to discern what she is saying is failing, I point vaguely outside, she hands me a voucher that looks more like monopoly money, a five, in that game, blue, if I remember the details, to put into the little machine and out drops a golden token, I pocket it without even thinking, hop back in my car, go around the block, which entrance is it ? which goddamn entrance is it ? I think I drive to far, and then suddenly there is an ER entrance road, it seems, subdued in subterfuge, while I am certainly not, I weave around the lane with screaming arrows painted past the door, another infuriatingly strangely laid out parking lot, I secure a spot, careful to park carefully, I spy my brother’s car, thank god this is the spot, I approach the door and can see my brother and fiance’s heads in the waiting room window, I nearly well up, not knowing and letting your mind fill in the blanks leads to hangman, another deep breath, a pause, to compose my thoughts, and so we wait…
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…sitting in the waiting room, waiting, it is what you do there, I know she is OK now, stable now but not the knowledge of the extent of the not OK, she is in x-rays for what seems like days, my father, finally, a couple of hours later comes out like a phantom, her purse in his hand, looking a bit disheveled and quite exhausted, the word, at the least a broken hip (upper femur crown to be exact), surgery imminent, but for tonight just stabilization, so now my brother and I are afforded visitation even if the room is just a staging area until a more permanent situation exists, my immediate thought, she looks so small and frail now, faded, as if age had caught up all of a sudden or maybe I had not been paying attention, her hand is cold, I notice, so cold, she wills a smile up at us, her two boys, the only mother we will ever know, there are no words, there is no way to convey comfort but with a look, and the words, ‘I love you mom’, maybe with more meaning than the many times before in passing, time spins, as it is time to leave, I whisper “be strong”, have I watched her just wither away all this time? and is this all our fates? the idea of wanting to let go if you are in too much pain, seems so foreign to me, but how would I, how could I know, until I am laying there, threads being held together by medicine and the divine, so in my own way this is a prayer, even if for a time, might she find some rest when the morphine kicks in, for the days/months ahead will be long, and hard, but there are days ahead, I tell myself and for her, there are days ahead.
“All the ways into this grot were then sealed against the entry of water or aught else, all save one.” — J. R. R. Tolkien, The Two Towers, 1954
I think about this often, no matter how clever I am, no matter how smart, I am human, and subject to fault, regardless of how many thousands of times I have done things right, and how I can pull results from thin air at times, I am not a robot nor a computer, although my coworkers might accuse me of either, I am well aware of my fallibility, my humanity, my mortality, we all reflect on it in days like these, Kobe Bryant is just another person, a very talented one in his field, I want no one to die but I mourn more for his young daughter that had not the chance to live, he lived, he had an amazing life, cut short, as are so many given history, but a 10 year old boy was shot in Newburgh NY today as well, those are the ones I mourn for, the ones that didn’t have the chance to reflect on life like I can and have, I feel a guilt and a shame for not being everything every minute I could be, I am not sure where to take it, if life matters at all, I have made it this far, I will continue on but have I squandered it all…. so I question, so I breathe… so I try to be that better person even if the end is the same…
in the dawn of man in the first of light our ancestors looked up towards the sun from there imagined past this life and now with all our knowledge since we look outward to the stars to find life past our own
notes… to me we always and still look to the sun, the light is a dominant force in our life, and yet we are just a little system out on the fringe arm of a galaxy among millions, we can see past our little neighborhood cosmically, how often do we really think about it in our daily life? perspective is an endless lens that asks questions. poem wise I was going for pace and syllables, seems silly playing among the stars… but it is what I do, to be me, or am me….
been awhile, my mortar friend, mostly used you as just steps lately, tonight teeters on forty degrees, so I can stop and catch up, I won’t be able to stay long, I already sense the temperature drop, as important as I remind myself to be observant, to take a moment and breathe the world in, and see what I see, that is a lot easier thought and easier to accomplish in warmer weather, but catch a window when you can like a ray of light, so here I am, contemplating life, I covered the late shift at work, I’m not religious and someone else, someone with people to go home to wanted off, so, to me it seemed like the right thing to do, winds up this way most years anyway, my prize was an easy drive for once, no traffic, just the occasional left lane interloper that requires passing on the right, which I hate to do, technically illegal to, but no malice tonight, no glare, no rage, everything is notched down a bit, I picked up some chinese and the only other busy place in the strip mall (or open one) was the ATM kiosk next door, got some gas, I don’t actually pay for gas, company car, fifteen years now, I tipped the guy thirty bucks, he is always nice enough, and cleans my back window from time to time, he was generally appreciative I think, so I drive on home with no major streaks, my street is lined with cars, both sides, but yet… so quiet, everyone is inside, usually such parked traffic has a bit of an audible buzz, but this is more cozy, or maybe I am, I sense something in the air, almost like someone is burning those cinnamon brooms you see outside store doors this time of year, no, that’s not it, pipe tobacco, definitely, I imagine my neighbors are sitting in their backyard, out of my sight, probably a few who broke off from the main party, to shoot the bull on this moonless night, the smell is intoxicating I must say, funny how I am surrounded by buildings, cars, people in their homes, and I am isolated, as many are this time of year, alone on the holidays, even if it is not your holiday really, the whole world seems caught up in it, like a wave you can not stop from washing over you even though you are not near the beach, “just another day” but everything else around you tells a different tale entirely, but I already received my gift, whether I be the amalgamation of scientific randomness, or the very touch of divine spark to my forehead in utero, the universe, in all these billions of years, whether by accident or design, has aligned in such a way, that I am here, alive, right now, as are you, regardless of belief, this is the gift, a gift so great that everything follows the unwrapping, need not be delivered by st nick, or some other myth, this is the truest fable one can… live.
a prayer for those at home alone tonight for know you well the universe and all time that tell you were chosen the greatest gift you have been given
“my only hope is in the stars to upload my soul upon release so I may travel the walkway to god”
notes… my mind likes puzzles, and is constantly working on such things, I have trouble blocking out the ‘big one’ sometimes, that being our mortality, half way through life (I hope) there is no way to not consider it, that is, for an agnostic like myself, I would love the relief of belief but to date nothing has satisfied me, I used to be smug about it in my younger days, looking down upon those who are religious, I realized later that I do not have the answers so those who find theirs I am grateful for, it just has not happened for me, maybe never will, maybe it doesn’t matter, that is my struggle, really the one we all share regardless of how we got here, into this time, now, the idea of basically never existing, death, is daunting, to say the least.
“upon christ of church fairfield township nj cemetery“ for all for now for all seasons kept be by brother be for here I lay laid to rest bound to ground consecrated in earth soul released to soar to higher temple mound, a marker, a name engraved crumbles, to time to fall tracing words, fading stone faces temporal worlds, flight drifts away embraced, in softest warmth bathed, in most divine light eternal grace, to triumph the night
notes… these are the ruins of my state, people who settled here before we were even a country, this cemetery is near ruin but not in total ruin, I drove by a few times and just was drawn to call to attention this place, these were all lives, loves, stories, people, all enshrined here, many hundreds of years past, that fascinates me, because soon enough this will be me, on this plane of existence at least, dust and dreams, we all come to this road, this destination, regardless of any declaration, or any direction in which we wish.
Music: a little heavy, a classic song in this person’s opinion…
stoic white church presides night black back country road saturday night quite alone
notes… sometimes I see something and want to capture a moment, I call it observational poetry to convey a feeling or a thought, I was driving through Franklin Lakes NJ, Ewing Road, through all the mansions up there but right before the reservoir there is a church I have passed many times, but the singularity of it struck me tonight, for whatever reason, I suppose the calm before the storm as Sunday is the business day of god, or at least houses of same in the catholic faith.
post script, looking at this, reading this… kind of Haiku feel… ya feel me ?
The last day, always, or at least it seems so, the cream of the crop, or at least perception be, from my hotel, the ocean is gleaming, sparkling morning sun fingers playing upon the little tiles of tide ridges, looking out my hotel window, no wind, no temperature to consider, just the visual, I walk down to take in one more final gulp of this ocean town, now, I am standing at the cusp of the beach, there is one of those small beach fences just mere kindling and chicken wire, just past the sign that warns you about there being no lifeguard, morning coffee in hand, more like my habits back on the mainland, to which I am summoned to return in a matter of hours, in retrospect, maybe this is not such a perfect day, a bit hazy, a bit cold, I close my eyes to feel the sun on my face, granted, the warming seems more mental than actual, and it is, if I concentrate for a bit I can feel the tops of my ears are quite exposed and colder, but somehow, with my eyes closed, a hazed globe shining on, the waves crashing down left to right, the occasional intrusion of the world around, am old diesel engine kicking up rattling throat, conversations about nonsense and such as people walk by, behind me on the boardwalk and benches meant for such things, I try to soak it all in, somehow capture this moment to store as long as I can, I know this is futile and fleeting but I inhale with hope anyway, moments like these choose me to ignore my reason, and my mind drifts…
I imagine the shore and the wonder of the original explorers, I think of how vast the ocean must have seemed and actually been, that moment, that eruption of emotion when they first spotted this shore, on the horizon, a hallucination for months of maritime lore, the realization that even among something so vast and unknown, had an end when no one had found such end until that initial landing, is that the pinnacle of man? discovery past known boundaries? our hope, our quest, to be at the beginning and end of that next discovery, there is, the pure seed of hope resident in that, all the despair, the lost ships and lost men, sunken lives in so many centuries past, but now what was once the impossible pass, is just to us a simple basic task, maybe that is what I was meant to take away this day, not just the same sun to bear upon my face, I open my eyes and nothing has changed, outwardly, an owner and a dog walking, a couple being a couple out on the sand in their moment of love, me, standing like an observant statue on the cusp of this beach, I reach for one more slug of my latte, take one more deeper breath, snapshot with my mind, one more look, a postcard to take away, and that lesson of hope, against the vast ocean, against the unknown, to ride the waves to where they go…
notes… no matter how many times I visit, Cape May surprises me, and now that I am reaching out to other places, there is so much history here in my garden state, and history is not just unknown things or lost battles, history is people, people who lived here and did things, we forget or are never told, but we should remember or learn, because that is ourselves in the end, the human story struck out against nature, nature will win, humans will disappear, the dinosaurs were here far longer than we, but we do not act that way, I suppose that is the way it will always be for top species… I hope there is more, out there, among the stars….
before I got into my car this morning, for my lovely (read: awful) commute, I paused and thought how empty I feel at the moment, I shouldn’t of course, there is nothing wrong, I have breath, I am alive, things are better than average and much better than most, I wander to ponder on how to not feel such things, I begin to think of symbols that might renew hope in life, the opposite of despair, to live in joy with a dash of exuberance, so I think of symbols I might wear, like those crosses or stars, I wonder if those charms do the trick, if there is even a trick, surely we can not be full of joy and exuberance all of the time, but why not try, at least most of the time, there are far worse goals in life, I struggle to find the symbol I can adorn that will be a reminder when worn, “hey buddy, you are alive, life is good, smile”, or something more poetic and high minded but the refrain will remain the same in end meaning, sometimes I concentrate and imagine I can feel the world’s energy flowing into me, sort of like a reverse fountain of energy, like drawn out magnetic poles, I imagine it can replenish me or allow me to share in all that is good in the world, of course such meditation of thought only lasts for a bit, like all else so not permanent, and I wonder if I am stealing a bit of nature’s thunder like some sort of psychic vampire or something more sinister as I try to siphon the life force from the world, because intention is not always the answer and has consequences beyond, but then I come to consider the whole mind boggling size of the universe and I suppose my little request at the forever elixir is not to much to impose, as we all do at some point, but how will I ever know? I guess one day if there is a ledger, and my deeds are so written, I will have to measure up, seems daunting but who knows what that reality will require, if anything, until then I endeavor to find a wellspring, a source, a way to embrace and exude… joy and exuberance.
Your thoughts, comments, eyes and looks are all appreciated. We are only here a short time, take a breath and always remember that… or at least try…
Shades of My Garden 