e·qui·poise

e·qui·poise

(when a word spurs a thought…)

e·qui·poise
/ˈekwəˌpoiz/
balance, the easiest to understand and the most difficult to master (if such a goal can be truly achieved), the word (equipoise) reminds me of horses, for obvious reasons, and that may be a lesson, for the truly great ones combine speed, strength and stamina, of course that is for racing, and perhaps therein lies a key as well, knowing what race you should be in – or in a race at all, for just as fortuitous as a horse that carries a cart, or lovers in the park, a component of balance is finding your talent or at least the zip code in which it resides, for there are probably too many of us enlisted in races unsuited for our particular gifts, for horses are not alike, so many types and breeds, dancing arabians, driving stallions, brute clydesdales and more, those little miniature ones that are all the rage, can we find balance in general when we are galloping on the wrong path? yes, at some point humanity is the same boiled down set of DNA but in a day to day sense we are our own countries, and if there is a tempest within your borders you surely can not reconcile with your neighbors, so I wonder, how better to chase the ideal, this equipoise, maybe this all culminates from realization and not overt relation to society at large, to learn to quell our own little city-state, to be truly happy with the construct of what we are rather than chasing what is told to us about the gilded castle tall upon the hill, let the fields overflow with the wildflowers of our unique nature, for trees to grow in anyway towards the sun, let the world interlock like puzzle pieces fully formed, but only until we reach a balance, an honest brokerage within ourselves.

a taste of spring…

a taste of spring…

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

(stream of consciousness posted prompted by a spike to 70 degrees today)

a taste of spring, a little bird on a twig, a series of chirps evolves into song, the sun, not quit strong enough to completely thaw, nor to make my face have the brooding fear of a tan, but a blue sky and a bright sun can lighten the disposition of gravity, still snow survives, around the edges, under the hedges, melting tides reveal masks strewn about in the gutters, a grim reminder of the times we are emerging from, less a tunnel and more a moratorium, a pause, a break in the norm, all holidays vanished along with those lost, a year seems gone, lost, like this never happened, but I do sense this, a taste of spring, seventy degrees seems like the last mile marker on the road to a vacation destination, a little finch, just inches above me, I swear he is dancing a jig, or at least bouncing around, and the snow’s retreat, even the dull green of the lawn is a treat, a feast for the eyes, lonely stark dirtied snow has a toll, like walls, the glow of the setting sun, behind the everyday house across the street, somehow looks more regal, so I will soak this in for now, into my skin, trigger memories of better days, of hope, of waves gently rolling over my toes as a I stroll down my favorite sandy venue soon enough, I have not come out of this time as whole as I once was, but I still am, so hope is resolve, in this – a taste of spring.

window musings (part 2)…

window musings (part 2)…

“for if this is all I have
’tis more than some will ever know”

a window into the world
defined by frames
defined by shape
much like our own

words try to clarify a picture
quantify a fraction
symbols drawn together
and agreed upon among others
language –
like an ancient tree
the high branches so far removed from root
reaching up
as if to escape
or grasp the stars – themselves
for we know to well
not bound to this earth
for we know not long – enough
as the spirit thrives to live on

pond meditation… ~~{o]~~

pond meditation… ~~{o]~~

I wish I might be, a simple painted turtle, sitting on a rock, in a glacial lake, the telegraphed waves just under my eyes, on occasion breaking their horizon causing an instinctual slow graceful wink motion like window shades rising, stoic, as the sun, as the stars, as the moon, pass on by above in an arc, not aware of time, as this procession prances on above, not aware of, the course of, meteor showers, comets, planets, or actual counted hours, just a personal picked patch of rock, jutting just slightly above the water, a vantage point, a peak, an observation deck, in the one perfect spot, I have found for now, by luck or circumstance or guile, to stretch my neck out just so, above the subtle tide, taking in air as needed, never more, never less, balanced breathing, watching the lights grow and stretch out over time, to the heavens and down into the water beneath in depth, reflections, stoic, timeless, a simple painted turtle, on my rock, witness, beneath the heavens, the earth tethered below in water, without a judgement in sight, I wish I might be at such peace, for a time. (exhale)

there is a basking turtle in this video…

thoughts from the porch (beach edition)…

thoughts from the porch (beach edition)…

6:50pm
the sand is cold, I could wear shoes, I know, but that is not the essence of the beach for me, the volleyball courts are empty, for some reason I think it bad karma to cross them, the lines defined that is, silly I guess, but we all have our idiosyncrasies, a stiff steady wind pushes in from the ocean, my journal’s bookmark flapping wildly about like some worn flag that has seen one thousand seasons and as many storms, so I walk toward the remains of the sunset, somewhere in the back of my mind this seems a warmer path, maybe it is just the exercise of walking in sand, feet sinking in, there are a few other travelers here, as I suppose there would be, or at least should be, there is the inner conflict of wanting to share such a place and yet commit it all for your own, both thoughts feel at home in my mind but I suppose I do not own this open secret, so here you are, welcome, the rush of the waves provides constant sound, I hear nothing of humanity at the moment, not a drop of the usual din seems to reach my ears, except the wind, not howling, not screaming, nor a gentle hand, somewhere in the limbo that lies between all those, a rising firm calm if you will, gulls glide silently above, a couple walks by with their young child, also silent, I can not accurately describe the golden shimmer of the leftover tide in the sand and fading sunlight, wave upon rolling wave, maybe this is the only timeless thing I may ever encounter or perceive, back there, just some hundred or so feet, the supposed real world, none of that has ever felt like this inside my bones, is this abject loneliness? I have always been an optimist, no, I am not lonely even if I am quite alone, I just feel something missing, perhaps…
I can feel the darkness of the rest of the beach creeping up my back behind me, I do not dare to look and become a pillar of sea salt, no, I look forward to the only hope I have, the only light left, even with a useless breath, might I, fight the inevitable –
with this, a moment, an experience, a performance on the oldest stage, might even Homer blush, for he knew, as do I, our temporal nature, among nature, while born of gods this realization, or born of science, much the same, these waves have seen many eyes before mine, and many more still when I am gone, for at least I was this once, graced with the best seats in the house.

orphans…

orphans…

something I do from time to time, I post works I have abandoned or not finished (to be honest I just am not good at going back, I like to create in the moment)… maybe they will spark upon the mind of someone else, or maybe they were actually finished unto themselves… so, here are a few, snippets, if you will… thoughts? always appreciated.

silhouette photography of mountain range during nighttime
Photo by José Luis Photographer on Pexels.com

(1) “jumbled”
for-give
for-get
to-give
to-get
the words have lost all meaning

(2) pure and incorruptible
true love and children
the fuel that ignites the soul
the hope
the future
all within

(3) do I reach the bottom wave
and feel the beach
upon my brow
succumb
until I drown

(4) sapling in a frisbee
just being this form
does not mean
you were meant to fly

yeah, I have posted it before… but man I love this album to pieces, it is a mental exercise, no, a relief, it checks all the boxes and guides me to interesting dreams…

Pilot in a man suit…

Pilot in a man suit…

astronaut_in_space.

SO here I am driving, pondering, I notice something, a strange sensation invades my thoughts

I feel like I am a pilot in a man suit

all these years spent in this body, this sensation seems like an out of body experience, although I have surely never left this vessel, this feels distinctly like I am a passenger or more rightly a conductor, I can perceive the nerve clusters bundled up behind the orbs of my eyes inside the casing of my skull (the construct), these fleshy globes floating in holes, they filter everything I experience while they are engaged in their designed job, I am well aware of how they actually combine images into one, great software I think, even without the upgrade of my glasses, this is the being behind the console, my soul or collection of electronic happenings all in orchestration, might I have the hang of operating this machine by now in all the subtleties of the controls, knobs, buttons, the vast array of senses to touch this outer world beyond the reach of this inner dimension…

as always I am drawn to the impossible moment that is the now, how all the things in the vast everything of existence had to line up in just such a way for me to be here in this very moment, and write this, and you as well, to read this, fellow traveler, all the culmination of randomness (or perhaps purpose, I do not know) in the sheer existence of all time and verses (uni and other), just even the question of how life arrived here on earth (or sprang from boiling pools of goo, not so elegant perhaps), maybe we are the seed dna of aliens piggy backed on a meteor, or comet, or some other celestial traveler, ancient astronaut theorists say ‘YES’, well, if you are familiar with that show, they always say yes, I don’t think I have ever heard them say no, I find the matter fascinating although the actual proof of the matter is lacking, but either way, whether we slithered up out of a pile of muck or hitched a ride on some alien rock – we are here, almost belying the sheer cruel randomness of even just our tiny slice of the milky way, so very surreal, I truly hope I am just a pilot in this biomachine, and one day may I find another vessel to continue this improbable journey but just in case I should quite cherish this one, and perhaps pen a travel log of my experience for others to enjoy should they happen upon this little story of me…