timing is a curious thing. not really, but we say it because it feels nice.
my friends in the next city over have been on a quiet cycle. until this morning. j txt’s me asking if it’s ok to call. hah. he knows better, or at least, i think he does.
actually, i think he’s feeling guilty for being out of touch so long. he’s forgotten that’s not how it works here.
sometimes it makes me sad that seems so common among people.
for the record, there’s no such thing as needing to feel bad for being out of touch. if i’ve ever said to you the words, ‘you’ll always be welcome here’ — you are.
no matter time, no matter how badly we blew up the last we talked. no matter what i may or may not have said, done, or written in the meantime.
seriously.
suchness never impedes. not here. though i do realize most either cannot or will not see it. that is, of course, what causes the sadness.
it never has to be ‘that way’. but it so often is.
anyway. he called. we laughed and chattered like magpies. the family is well. offered me to come visit today and i was tempted, but mr. wallet and mr. gas tank say ‘no’. sigh.
updated him on recent adventures and what i’m up to… and oddly enough, the conversation turned to (of all things) seattle. portland. vancouver. hah. Focus is in effect and has been for several months now, though in varying degrees of strength.
i looked back upon the archives and realize i’ve been penning on this here and there for about two years. convergence? possibly. j and family are looking to relocate. guess where? heh. it may be nothing. then again, it may be everything. time will tell.
met and moved through yet another lightening strike. another chalk mark by the tally of same ol’, same ‘ol. i chuckle for the sigh of it all. the pattern is obvious these days. my part in any of it is, at best, marginal. but my ego knows better than to make a sound for seeing it. so, progress.
kurukalla, inflamed, is screaming at the waxing moon. dancing on shards, making murals of crimson and tears. but i think it may be another month without a crash. which is nice. i thank practice, or blame it. heh. not sure which.
i laugh as well for the need to mention the things i’m not thinking about lately. hah. the list of the list. comfort in the keeping until the moment that i can find it, crumpled and hiding under bills, and wonder why i still keep it, then decide i don’t need to and wad it up to throw away.
it is odd to feel so free. and it is odd to feel like nothing matters while, at the same time, everything seems somehow critical. that won’t make sense, likely. natural being. gross and sublime.
sorry. well, ok, not really.
i’m in love with everyone and it feels like it’s going to last. ‘just because i can’ is becoming more than a saying. not that it was every more than a saying… but it is. heh. playing with the paradox and laughing.
i’m working on a piece and it’s arriving in segments, but a phrase occurs and i’m giggling for how applicable it seems, very bucky ballish. “giggling in the corner, muttering memes and madness…” indeed.
this is usually the time in which i would feel melancholy, morose, or maudlin. they’re all here, but they don’t seem to be cloying. something new. i ponder mahamudra and wonder if maybe….
this is, of course, a ramble. sunny sun day and i’m letting it flow.
j asked me if i’m eating. he was joking, but my stomach is growling now. reminder. heh. reckon i’ll end here.
oh, just one thing more — i love you. just in case you needed to hear it, and also because i realize i don’t say it as much as i should. thank you for being here. for being. for being you. (hug)