I have beautiful blue eyes.
He's 67. I have never seen a man in so much despair.... His eyes reflected the endless tears that had fallen throughout the night, his head hung low as his eyes stared blankly at the floor...
He was wondering where the fuck time went. And how the fuck they got here. He was wondering why he came home late every night for the past 30 years... and why they didn't learn to dance. He's blaming fate because its not fucking fair. They didn't get to see the pyramids... and they skipped hornby island last year cause work was busy. He says he'll give it all up - his things, his job just for more time with her
She sat next to him. I'm guessing like she always sat there... waiting. She's been waiting for him for the past 35 years of her life. But he's still too caught up in himself, his anguish, to look at her, stroke her hair and whisper softly in her ear - I love you.
Fuck raised toilet seats and bathbenches. I told them to run away together... because for a moment, just one, i believed that love could outrun death.
She had beautiful blue eyes just like mine...
April 7, 2009
February 2, 2009
homogenous tears.
It was nearly a year ago to this day. I was meeting with my client - a fresh quadriplegic. My sole intention was to assess the depths of his depression, pain and frustration over his recent loss. We sat for hours as he attempted to quantify how often he cries, how angry he gets, how much he misses the old life - and how much he has disappointed the ones he loves. I asked him to circle numbers and fill in scales. and there he sat, crying like a young child. He hurt in ways undesirable and unfathomable to another soul. His tremoring chin merely shone a light into the depths of his pain. I heard each word, watched each tear - until he turned to me...
and asked me about pain. He asked me what it was like - my pain. He asked how often i cried, he asked about my disappointments, my regrets. He asked about how deep the hurt went and how long it had been eroding my veins.
I didn't want to tell him, it didn't seem right. but he further delved... why did i hang my head slightly to the side, why did my smile only creep up on the left side... why did i hide my hands in my pockets... he dove until our tears began to mix on the floor below - together. and to my surprise our tears didn't separate, mine didn't float to the top because they were more superficial. they combined perfectly. And so I told him... about you. about how you hurt me. I told him every detail about you and him and the other guy. I told him because someone had to know. Because for the first time in years, someone wanted to know. He saw every chin tremor, every tear fall, and every missed breath. and he knew the pain pulsating through our veins was the same.
and there we sat. hazy eyed. tear stained cheeks.
That was it. simple as it may seem. but far deeper than was comfortable.
and asked me about pain. He asked me what it was like - my pain. He asked how often i cried, he asked about my disappointments, my regrets. He asked about how deep the hurt went and how long it had been eroding my veins.
I didn't want to tell him, it didn't seem right. but he further delved... why did i hang my head slightly to the side, why did my smile only creep up on the left side... why did i hide my hands in my pockets... he dove until our tears began to mix on the floor below - together. and to my surprise our tears didn't separate, mine didn't float to the top because they were more superficial. they combined perfectly. And so I told him... about you. about how you hurt me. I told him every detail about you and him and the other guy. I told him because someone had to know. Because for the first time in years, someone wanted to know. He saw every chin tremor, every tear fall, and every missed breath. and he knew the pain pulsating through our veins was the same.
and there we sat. hazy eyed. tear stained cheeks.
That was it. simple as it may seem. but far deeper than was comfortable.
January 19, 2009
standing still.
sometimes, you're not always exactly where you want to be. sometimes, you look around, and see dark curtains, four walls and barred windows. it doesn't always seem right - right there where you are standing. its awkward, uncomfortable, and so you look around for an escape route. i look around for whats next, i seek out opportunity, excitement, and adventure. When I'm not at peace with the here and now, I quickly determine that I am no longer aligned with the journey designed for me.
26 years ago, i rolled over for the first time. 25 years ago, i took my first steps. 24 years ago my little feet ran for the first time and 21 years ago, I hiked my first peak.
1 week ago, for the first time since, I resorted back to standing still. It broke every habit I had created since I was two years old. It was uncomfortable, it was awkward - I stood still while new adventures passed by. I stood still at the base of the mountain - as the peak sneered at my weakness and frailty. but i didn't respond. the peak went unclimbed, unconquered. But for the first time, as I stood at the base, I knew this was where I was supposed to be. And its then that i realized that the journey of standing still was more challenging for me than climbing the mountain.
And so, if you're watching me - I know you're waiting for my next move. I know you're wondering what I'm going to do next... where I'm going to explore and what life changing story ill be telling you about next. I know you don't see it - can't see it, but this moment in time, this standing still, may be the most challenging journey I've experienced yet.
so, for now, here I stand. stop watching, you might get bored.
26 years ago, i rolled over for the first time. 25 years ago, i took my first steps. 24 years ago my little feet ran for the first time and 21 years ago, I hiked my first peak.
1 week ago, for the first time since, I resorted back to standing still. It broke every habit I had created since I was two years old. It was uncomfortable, it was awkward - I stood still while new adventures passed by. I stood still at the base of the mountain - as the peak sneered at my weakness and frailty. but i didn't respond. the peak went unclimbed, unconquered. But for the first time, as I stood at the base, I knew this was where I was supposed to be. And its then that i realized that the journey of standing still was more challenging for me than climbing the mountain.
And so, if you're watching me - I know you're waiting for my next move. I know you're wondering what I'm going to do next... where I'm going to explore and what life changing story ill be telling you about next. I know you don't see it - can't see it, but this moment in time, this standing still, may be the most challenging journey I've experienced yet.
so, for now, here I stand. stop watching, you might get bored.
January 1, 2009
wide-eyed.
I lie wide eyed - trying to sleep. I'm wishing the night will let the dark consume itself and cease to exist. As i struggle to close them, my physical vision ends, and I am only opened to a more sensual reality; one where smells are heightened, touch is softer, and colors are more brilliant - one where the past years events are battling to be the opening act. Last new years eve is trying to have main stage, and this eve is begging to be the grand finale. And so my eyes quickly open. and i lay wide-eyed, seeing the shadows of the night fall on my wall. I count the ticking of the clock. I hear the can collectors passing my window. I smell the scent of dying flowers. Just so i don't have to see, feel, touch or hear last year...
December 16, 2008
talons of pain.
December 5th, 2006.
do you ever crave to feel.
i am in a period in life where there is no time or need to feel. i am self-indulging in the superficial life. and it hurts. so i ponder memories from the past. i reflect on moments of intensity throughout my life. you know those moments when you really exist, know that you are really alive. i try to retangle myself in those intricately woven moments. i recall souls that unexpectedly collided with mine. individuals that caused every part in my being to to delve into superfluous depths of love and pain. but i cannot feel it now. so i put on the perfect combination of music and lyric to connect with me in the right here and now. i wait in the created stimulating atmosphere... wait to feel. wait to be gripped by talons of emotion that will tear at my flesh. all this just so i can ensure that i am alive. just to make sure that this is all real. but today even the music doesn't bring me back in its usual fashion. has my magnetism toward falsity finally overpowered my reality? have the last bricks been layed in my asylum which enables me to slowly deconstruct alone?
this lifestyle is not sufficient..
do you ever crave to feel.
i am in a period in life where there is no time or need to feel. i am self-indulging in the superficial life. and it hurts. so i ponder memories from the past. i reflect on moments of intensity throughout my life. you know those moments when you really exist, know that you are really alive. i try to retangle myself in those intricately woven moments. i recall souls that unexpectedly collided with mine. individuals that caused every part in my being to to delve into superfluous depths of love and pain. but i cannot feel it now. so i put on the perfect combination of music and lyric to connect with me in the right here and now. i wait in the created stimulating atmosphere... wait to feel. wait to be gripped by talons of emotion that will tear at my flesh. all this just so i can ensure that i am alive. just to make sure that this is all real. but today even the music doesn't bring me back in its usual fashion. has my magnetism toward falsity finally overpowered my reality? have the last bricks been layed in my asylum which enables me to slowly deconstruct alone?
this lifestyle is not sufficient..
confession.
January 6, 2007
i have a little secret to confess. but i warn you, this could potentially terrify you as it terrifies me:
i know you. i know why you say what you say. i know what you want to say when you are silent. i know why you do what you do. i know every insecurity you mask. i know all your potential. i don't know how or why i know. i just do.
it haunts me.
i have a little secret to confess. but i warn you, this could potentially terrify you as it terrifies me:
i know you. i know why you say what you say. i know what you want to say when you are silent. i know why you do what you do. i know every insecurity you mask. i know all your potential. i don't know how or why i know. i just do.
it haunts me.
desensitization.
January 10, 2007
life update.
i have recently removed myself from the mainland and headed west for a little island flav'a. perhaps if i knew what the West held for me, i would have reconsidered: one person is not capable of beholding so much beauty.
i often refer to the rawness of the rising sun or the frailty of it as it grieves the day. i am easily enamoured by the natural state of creation. i am less easily enamoured with the natural state of man. my new job has released a freedom that exposes the human soul in its natural state.
i spend 8 grueling hours on a ward in a stingy old hospital. the cement cold floors chill more than your toes. death is a fresh fragrance that you never become desensitized to. but in the midst of death life flows through more than iv tubes. breath is regulated through the rawness and vulnerability of each individual.
each patient has a number. rarely referred to by a name. a number. today, number 616B arrived. a cat scan exposed a brain tumor that's tentacles have dug deep into her left lobe. the snake like burrowing of the tumor has made surgery impossible. 6 of her professionals sit in a team meeting. "has any one told her its going to kill her. no. the doctor said she might live. there's no way in hell. sad. yeah, too bad. how old is she. 30. she scared? not yet, we haven't told her its killing her. so how bout 616C?"... no one saw my tears. no one saw my heart shrivel up. no one new i wanted to run to her and trade my life for hers.
615D was a different story. she though it was the year 2170. for a moment i wondered what 2170 might look like. i pictured flying cars. warm hospitals. people being vaccinated for cancer and aids. new diseases still killing us at alarming rates. maybe for her that was reality and as i drifted back to 2007, i wished for a moment i could stay there with her. memory loss isn't as cruel as one would imagine, i continue to be fascinated at their imagination and creativity. memories hold us captive, memory loss sets them free. she was tiny. maybe 80 lbs. dying. we all are. i may be closer than her. we don't know. i may have a tumor growing in my brain, enveloping my center for cognitive functioning. none of that matters. the doctor should approach each one of us, and say, "Results show you are dying. life's tentacles are piercingly deeply into the core of who you are. there's nothing left we can do." its the way it is. its beautiful.
i saw 617B today. it was my first interview. no one liked her. she was demanding and needy. tried to run the show. once i got her in a little safe room. she began to weep. she wept because she was scared, because she was alone. she was raw, painful beauty.
i was leaving the ward late today. i was sluggish, tired, and overwhelmed. i couldnt' think anymore. as i turned to descend the grueling 6 flights of stairs, a piercing light scathed the corner of my eye. it hurt. i turned to face this terror that was distracting me from my numbness. the sky had split in to two as though a knife had sharply sliced through it. the wound secreted brilliant streams of light. the bright blueness laughed at the glistening snow blanket. the wound spilled forth beauty, and even seeped into the cracks of my melting mind.
beauty is all around...
life update.
i have recently removed myself from the mainland and headed west for a little island flav'a. perhaps if i knew what the West held for me, i would have reconsidered: one person is not capable of beholding so much beauty.
i often refer to the rawness of the rising sun or the frailty of it as it grieves the day. i am easily enamoured by the natural state of creation. i am less easily enamoured with the natural state of man. my new job has released a freedom that exposes the human soul in its natural state.
i spend 8 grueling hours on a ward in a stingy old hospital. the cement cold floors chill more than your toes. death is a fresh fragrance that you never become desensitized to. but in the midst of death life flows through more than iv tubes. breath is regulated through the rawness and vulnerability of each individual.
each patient has a number. rarely referred to by a name. a number. today, number 616B arrived. a cat scan exposed a brain tumor that's tentacles have dug deep into her left lobe. the snake like burrowing of the tumor has made surgery impossible. 6 of her professionals sit in a team meeting. "has any one told her its going to kill her. no. the doctor said she might live. there's no way in hell. sad. yeah, too bad. how old is she. 30. she scared? not yet, we haven't told her its killing her. so how bout 616C?"... no one saw my tears. no one saw my heart shrivel up. no one new i wanted to run to her and trade my life for hers.
615D was a different story. she though it was the year 2170. for a moment i wondered what 2170 might look like. i pictured flying cars. warm hospitals. people being vaccinated for cancer and aids. new diseases still killing us at alarming rates. maybe for her that was reality and as i drifted back to 2007, i wished for a moment i could stay there with her. memory loss isn't as cruel as one would imagine, i continue to be fascinated at their imagination and creativity. memories hold us captive, memory loss sets them free. she was tiny. maybe 80 lbs. dying. we all are. i may be closer than her. we don't know. i may have a tumor growing in my brain, enveloping my center for cognitive functioning. none of that matters. the doctor should approach each one of us, and say, "Results show you are dying. life's tentacles are piercingly deeply into the core of who you are. there's nothing left we can do." its the way it is. its beautiful.
i saw 617B today. it was my first interview. no one liked her. she was demanding and needy. tried to run the show. once i got her in a little safe room. she began to weep. she wept because she was scared, because she was alone. she was raw, painful beauty.
i was leaving the ward late today. i was sluggish, tired, and overwhelmed. i couldnt' think anymore. as i turned to descend the grueling 6 flights of stairs, a piercing light scathed the corner of my eye. it hurt. i turned to face this terror that was distracting me from my numbness. the sky had split in to two as though a knife had sharply sliced through it. the wound secreted brilliant streams of light. the bright blueness laughed at the glistening snow blanket. the wound spilled forth beauty, and even seeped into the cracks of my melting mind.
beauty is all around...
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