nettles_of_voices.mp3
(for the text, hit up ‘more…’)
oh my. i actually had someone ask me if all i do each day is sit around and mope for the things i so often write about in this place.
i boggled. what is it about people that these kinds of assumptions are so easy to make? and do they have some odd manner of selective memory that the many happy, shiny things recorded here are forgotten?
i remember reading somewhere that most people tend to remember the bad more than the good. and ok, to at least three people, i am seen as one of them.
let me set that fallacy to rest. hopefully permanently.
i am spectacularly happy in this moment of life. almost obscenely so.
every morning since i have arrived here, i have awakened with a smile.
i love my new job.
i love my new apartment.
i love being less than five minutes from the beach.
i love my amazing and infinitely talented daughter.
i love my amazing though prodigal (though perhaps less so!) son.
i love my cats.
i love that i am out and around people again.
i love how people light up around me again.
i love my Sangha.
i love my treasured Rinpoche.
i love simply standing outside and drawing a breath and the tang of salty air is all around, and deep within me.
i love that life offers me everything at once, and all i must do to be peaceful in every moment, balanced and centered is simply to choose wisely. (though admittedly, it is often not so simple, eh?)
i love that i want to write again.
i love that i’m making music and recordings again.
i love that i’m connecting deeply and well with everyone i meet again.
i love that nothing of my past retains the power to as much as breathe on me.
i love that i can capture any moment in words and then, set them here and let that moment and everything of it… go.
i am resonating with energy whose source i cannot speak, but is known to be without end.
i am ferociously enthused about everything, everyone, and find that soft wonder i thought was forever lost.
life is good. i am content. i am well. i am happy.
the things i place here are often not so, this is true. but do not mistake carefully pressed memories for constant reality.
i remember pain because to remember it builds compassion.
i remember particulars because they may be used to nourish compassion.
i remember negatives because they remind me to grow.
yes, there are dark things here. but not all here is dark.
yes, there are tears here, captured and rendered into amber. but not all tears are sad, and tears themselves are not bad.
yes, there are recent wounds, older wounds, and even some ancient wounds here. but to capture them before the scabs appeared doesn’t mean they have not or are not healing.
there are those who read here and, for their own comfort, enjoy to label me in many ways. perhaps it makes them feel better about themselves. who knows? welcome, welcome, make yourself at home. here, have a label gun. feel free. plenty of space.
of course, it would be remiss of me not to warn you… we have limited budgets of energy in this life. knowing this, caveat emptor… buyer beware. don’t spend your energy so quickly, so easily. we only get so much of it in life.
are you sure you need to set that label here?
do you yet realize that the labels walk with you when you go? that they never really stick here? that they are yours, not mine?
ara dell used to tell me, ‘child, just remember, when you point at someone, you’ve still got three fingers pointing right back at you.’
if you’re here, regardless your reason, there’s only one label i give to you, because it is the only label i’m willing to carry…. friend.
welcome friend, enjoy your stay.