Winter Walking

cold radiates from the neck and thigh

against the warm room

mingling basic sensations

like the faint smell of bitter

amidst a banquet of sweetness

into waking

but which is dreaming?

moving through a mountain

in bright moonlight of winter

she becomes a shadow

like the tree veins 

in the snow

Maple Syrup Snow Cones.

Please put away your hand-towels embroidered with holly.  Let us melt the leftover chocolates and candy canes on hot stones as pleas for forgiveness. Isn't your stomach also aching with remorse?  Make room for silence.   

We remain untamed so long as wild silence dwells within.  As another year approaches, recall the sharp taste of alpine air.  Behold the stark bright space before you.  Now is the time to discard, to recognize, and choose the most excellent.  Without identifying the ingredients of our composition, we cannot fully choose, cannot truly decide to navigate towards something greater.  

This year, I choose joy.  acceptance.  endurance.  quality.

Walking around without any skin on.

"Jesus, will you be my dentist?  You see, I have this cavity…"  Imagining gospel-driven rockabilly pity lyrics keeps me laughing at myself.  

Oscillating between depravity and redemption, lunacy and keen revelation, serenity glows like a distant dawn caught between the dualities of the spirit.  

Learning how to process a heartbreak that will probably destroy everything I've known about myself up until now, will also create a space for a refined self-knowledge that can only come from ego-shattering stories.  "Self-knowledge is seldom good news," I heard on a podcast the other day.  But news is just news, right?  Nothing personal, really.  

Anger and grief are unreal to me.  I am a stranger to myself.  The self-berating questions pound around my brain without permission.  Covering my ears and squeezing my eyes shut, I try and block them out, chanting "I don't exist.  Everything will pass.  Just let it go." Over and over again.  To feel everything and understand nothing is insanity.  

Love yourself, dear ones keep telling me.  Pursue yourself, nurture yourself… Frankly, I can't stand myself right now.  I'm not right.  Can I accept this?  Can I accept all of this?  Can I love and be trusted? It will come. First, I need to seek out compassion, acceptance, and mindfulness. Gently.  

Prayer, silence.

Selah!

Driving back to Canaan from Oakland, Maryland, Lynn and I passed a Mennonite girl riding a four-wheeler.  Her head covering sailed behind her full-face grin.  And the wind blew through our clothes and windows like a vivid story.  Summer's does not leave us wanting.  Take us with you for a while, and write us when you're gone.

The boxes and bushels of Brandywine and Beefsteak tomatoes accompany their farmer-midwives.  This is the first big week for the Butternut and Acorn squash.  But I''m not ready for them yet.

So long, Summer.

this day first day, Fri-day

A very small pimple-faced child bumped into my leg while I browsed the selection of eyeglass frames.  Purple plastic, magenta metallic.  He looked up at me with my old mangled pair of glasses in his little fist.  Grandma scolded him, obviously embarrassed.  She gave an uncomfortable look when I laughed, "he knows exactly what I'm looking for."


The overweight receptionist peered over her latest version frames.  She is overworked and fussy, but still cordial.  She assures me that my ears are not crooked, and that the eyeball dialation machine will not damage my vision.  But I'm not supposed to drive myself home. 


Dr. Wolf promptly ushers me into the examination room.  I squint, decipher, and dictate as I am directed.  We make small talk, and I amaze him with high-altitude stories.  His sheltered, submissive posture indicated the need for a good tale or two.  


The receptionist winks as I leave.