Walk in Buffalo Park

I cry because you and you in this life are so beautiful. Your majesty captivates me.
You humble me with your peaks of greatness and your caverns of depth and under-worldly workings. I am compelled to fall to my knees in the snow and mud, prostrate before you.
Because of your influence.
I rub my dry palms onto the bark of a pine. I burry my nose into the rough creases and breath deep the aroma of green vanilla and tree amber. The scent, lingering like perfume. The sound of joyous frogs reach my ears and makes me smile.
You are so vast. With your rough edges and your tender inside, or is it the other way around?
Am I deluding myself with my enumeration of you?
Your presence consumes me, no matter where I am on this planet. So vast and yet so small, so complex and yet so simple, but you, my beloved, are not.
We humans are blessed to be here. And I am blessed to just sit in awe of you.
How can you have such power over me?
I thought I was exempt from your lovely torment because of my bequest.
How lovely is this gamble we play at.
I cannot escape you, nor do I ever wish to.
You’re ever-present nature enthralls me and I succumb to your love.

Sunday Wonderings

Some days, like today, I just want more. More anything. More fresh air, more space, more money, more room, more tea, more books, more time. And sometimes more is just not enough. More just won’t cut it. I just can’t get satisfied, get over it, or get on with it. I just dwell until I can’t wallow anymore and all that’s left is to over come those wants–acknowledge them, say hello, and move on. So I do. I move forward and make more tea, read a little, go for a walk, and try not to judge myself on money and time.

A Tid-Bit of Thursday

If you’ve ever had to pee in a cup, you’d know that it’s not as easy as it sounds. (Okay, so maybe it doesn’t sound easy either, but the point is it takes great skill!) One week in Flagstaff and I landed a job as sales assistant to the real estate advertiser of the Arizona Daily Sun Newspaper. But only after visiting every single store of the down town area, and humbling myself to even consider In Home Care to the elderly. Drug tests are no sweat for those of us who don’t participate in “recreational activities.” Even though the general clientele of those blue-walled, not-so-sterile buildings, with really bad art, and not-so-happy ladies at the front desk, makes you want to crawl out of your skin and go scrub yourself twice, with a really tough Luffa. More specifically, they are high school aged delinquents who look as though they’ve just drank a gallon of cranberry juice and really need a hit of something strong, and fast. I was in and out of there in nine minutes flat, with a quick thank you to the man who had to handle all the samples–good riddance to my urine! Don’t waste time when time is essential. Then it was off to find a pair of dress pants, no jeans for this job. Then back to my place (whoo, that feels fun to write!) to waste just a little of time making oatmeal-raisin cookies, okay so maybe it’s not a totally waste of time, but I think dying your hair definitely qualifies. So, what’s a little time wasted in the greater scheme of things? Time, can it really be wasted? Or is that your minds talking? You tell me!

This is me

Back in Arizona. Round the world in 180 days. Seems like a lifetime to me. What does the future hold? What is speculation anyway? My passion calls, my heart yearns, my body knows, and my soul complies with all that is happening.

I write for you my dears. I am laying myself in front of you like a welcome mat in front of a red door. I am the arms of your friend, embracing you deep. I am the hot tea at your mothers, warming you from the inside. I am the rain on a hot summer day, cooling the Earth and wetting the dry dirt of the desert. I am the wind in the trees in autumn, shaking the leaves loose. I am the ocean, salty and so sweet. I am you and you are I.

Come all you dreamers, you wishers, you thinkers. Come you prayers, you hopers, you storytellers. Come, lend me your heart, your eyes, and year ears. Let me tell you a story, but before I begin, please remember one thing: I once heard, and still believe, you must never let the facts get in the way of a good story.