My Little Journal of Positivity

Earlier heard birds.
Now, sere silence of dead grass
Scratched by vehicles.

Bobcats squat in mud,
Yellow screaming against brown,
Clawed wheels churned deep.

The sober of cold
Stays outside blue neon bars
Not drinking it in.

Shelves filled with shiny
things I do not want to buy;
I do turn around, and leave.

You level and build
Metal trees and plastic wood
Over life's underground.

You sweep your streets free
of the broken and feral --
no place for me, here.

Beware the beast, then,
Prowling civilization
With no affection.

Later, sun through glass
redeems one moment -- but a
window remains closed.

Too long a cooped-up lionness --

Every song I've mixed this year has been true, if you only knew.

Even the ones you didn't hear me play a thousand times, thinking.

Over the weekend, I had a moment of connection with
the divine.

What, you think that makes you special?

I have had them, though they've been too rare recently, and
generally been achieved with effort rather than spontaneous.

Shouldn't it just happen? If you're trying, maybe you're trying too hard.
Or maybe you're just imagining things.

This one, though, felt a little different than the others.

Granted, I was in a position where it was possible to happen.
But that is often the case, as I seek out things that nourish
me when I struggle. So: I was outdoors, with music and a book,
in a crowd but separated enough. Still, I wasn't trying at all.

Instead, I felt the universe *trying* *around me*. I felt it
nudge here, shift there, and click into place for a moment.

How incredibly ego-centric of you.

I'm just saying that instead of random or forced, it was...
"Welcome back. Visit more often. I'm here waiting for you."

Come on. The universe is blind.

How can it be blind, when it sees through so many eyes?

If spirituality is one's personal, private experience
of the divine, is religion that same experience shared
across a community? Does the communal always change (or
destroy) the personal, or can it actually enhance it?

Since then, cheerfulness, competency, learning, usefulness
mixed up with tired, grumpy, boredom and lack of ambition.
Typical material existence ups and downs.

No, not that special. You wouldn't know me if you saw me;
I look just like everybody else.

But value any glimpse of a world outside -- world ahead.


Thanks for the half-nightmare, Tir'na na Nogth.
So: if the T-shirts are labels, and I had
trouble getting them on and off, and I never
found the one I wanted in time for the start of
my Masquerade entry... how can I change my script?

Lift one foot. Doesn't even have to go forward.
Maybe lifting is all you can manage at first.

I've been wanting out of these rat holes I'm dug into.

If you don't have a shovel, use your claws.

I've been waiting on people and places and things.

Maybe they should be waiting on you instead.

I judge myself not by what I am, but by what I do.

That's what makes your not being busy, a real problem.

Do imaginary characters count?

We're just as real as everyone else.

I started this post a month ago.
It took a whole week just to go forward.
Two more weeks to struggle, both inside and out.
In the end, it took them a week to come back.
A week. A whole week. Only a week.

You're good as you are and you know it.
Sure, support from others sure would be nice.
Support from yourself, though, is essential.

Yes, I am competitive -- even in some rather stupid ways.

Get busy and stay busy a while, girl.
You've still got a lot on your plate and
you know there's always more struggle ahead.
But don't forget to breathe, and to dream,
and make more time for the rest of us.

Thanks for the strong support, Tirna na Nog'th.
Keep those words and images coming.
I don't want to stop.

I don't like being told what to do.

Who do you think you are?

But if I don't put it on my to do list,
it may not get done.

I don't like telling people what I want.

Does it matter?

But if I don't say anything, no one can know
if I want connection.

I don't like talking about myself.

What if you find me narrow, or boring?

What if I tell you too much? Is that worse?

But if I don't share, what does that say?

Sunshine in the backyard. How fleeting it is.
The softness of belly fur on a burrowing nose.
I now own two necklaces and a jeweled hair clip,
but I'd trade them all to get my only ring back.
Music makes me feel better, you can't even imagine.

And I don't want to be too old to dance. Please.

Some things that happen in a weekend:

Carry-out Cincinnati chili with sour cream.
A glass of amaretto w/peach schnapps.
Watching part of a favorite videotape.
Get solid sleep. Emergency laundry time.
See a brace of films by Orson Welles.
Greeting some old friends in passing.
Review new search engine documentation.
Steam is rising off the Potomac River.
Out dancing to a rare appearance by a
traditional big band at Glen Echo -
go through three shirts, two towels,
lots of trips to the water fountain, and
a life-saving bottle of berry Gatorade.
Meet up late-night with an Oreo milkshake.
Sun-dry sheets while walking to Courthouse
for some iced chai. Continue with laundry.
Plan for an hour of yard work (with water).
Work on summary documents for presentation
on the e-gov standards usability testing.
Color hair. Get ready for this busy week of
training + work + home + life. Pet cats.

Let's take July one step at a time.

I am grateful to you who are my friends.
You tender me your advice, support, concern, sharing.
You teach me new things and help me rediscover old ones.
You give me your laughter, but you understand my tears.
You are sound in the darkness, and a hand in isolation.
I may not always reach out or listen closely,
but I know who's out there.

Here's looking at you, kid.

I am the lion stalking along the path.
I am the tiger lurking in the cave.
I am the cheetah posing on the hill.
I am the bobcat baring its teeth.
I am the housecat curled up on the bed.
I am the serval disappearing into the undergrowth.

I am the oak to lean upon.
I am the cherry to bear fruit.
I am the willow to weep under.
I am the maple to climb up into.
I am the spruce to survive winter.
I am the dogwood to blossom forth.

I am a half-finished building with harsh work lights.
I am an old orange tractor in a newly cut pasture.
I am a textured cubicle wall above a litebrite carpet.
I am a nearby bookstore filled with French cafe music.
I am ground drenched by rain, grass ruffled by wind.
I am the terror of falling, and the transport of flying.

I look at you looking at me.
I find I become more than myself
when I can share with you.

You asked me to share part of your life.
You arranged it to share part of mine.
You let me close when you never thought you would.
You let me close when I never thought I could.

You wrote me a song,
you read all my stories,
you responded to my words in posts,
and you helped me see things in a new way.

You have too many commitments -
you have a lot of differing interests -
you feel so deeply sometimes it gets in the way -
you wonder quietly if what you feel is even enough.

You have blind spots, dark closets, blank areas, and empty spaces.
As do I. Sometimes I may lose sight, lose track, lose faith -
even lose myself.

I am warrior, empath, dramatist, logician, strategist, and critic.
I sleep tame by the fireside. I run wild in the dark. I am alive.

Together we may share visions,
open doors over time,
reconquer lost territory,
and create new worlds.

In the midst of the mundane, always remember the numinous.