i'm wrung out
with no idea of what's next
tears and coffee drip out of me
-very little blood left-
reaching the end of wit
floods smallness and humanity
brimming to my eyes,
the palpable reminiscence
of my lacking ability
to control the world.
the air goes silent,
-ringing-
people mouthing so many helpful
distant things.
vision blurs
the future dims
and each labored footfall
against the wind
hurts.
poetries and scripturings--
prayers by me
for me
from some other wayfarer
who's walked this trail before
or begrudgingly foretold the story
peace is felt in the flow
of a pen
or in the little blood
there is left...
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
no words but the inspiration within me....
i find beauty in the jagged edges on a map,
-the unkempt lines that separate us-
seeing that the land, still our better
even yet defines us.
give me broken, untaut borders
and the rocky, beguiling coasts
so that i may never find myself confined.
-the unkempt lines that separate us-
seeing that the land, still our better
even yet defines us.
give me broken, untaut borders
and the rocky, beguiling coasts
so that i may never find myself confined.
Friday, January 16, 2009
no cabin fever here
long over due. often need an impetus of unique qualities to get me back here with my pen.
fresh percolated coffee rests to my right, the fire in the place ticks its approval of our being here. warming and burning the logs chopped with our own collective hands.
i forget how healing this mountain get-away is until i am rested in its rustic clutches.
just a few friends and i, nestled away from the cold, enjoying the simpler pleasures of and in the high country. a mountain brewery, rich-fine coffee, a deck of cards, a board game, and four pairs of snowshoes.
in taking a moment, i have found exactly what i was looking for.
fresh percolated coffee rests to my right, the fire in the place ticks its approval of our being here. warming and burning the logs chopped with our own collective hands.
i forget how healing this mountain get-away is until i am rested in its rustic clutches.
just a few friends and i, nestled away from the cold, enjoying the simpler pleasures of and in the high country. a mountain brewery, rich-fine coffee, a deck of cards, a board game, and four pairs of snowshoes.
in taking a moment, i have found exactly what i was looking for.
Friday, December 19, 2008
prescriptions and precipitates...
two little pills every meal. one packet in the morning and one in the evening. think positively so as to preemptively overcome. listen only to the soothing sounds of Iron & Wine. Call me in the morning.
this is the prescription i wrote myself a day or two ago. while not admitting that some sickness may be attacking, i feel the comings on. the two pills are 'purple cornflower', known as echinacea. the two packets are emergen-C. nothing drastic here. assume no defeat until it's too late. always was a trail blazer. blazing trails potentially into sickness and idiocy.
actually, i something much stranger than all that happened today. after literally freezing temps on mon and tues, rainy cold on wed and thurs, the ever fickle natured weather sprung on us a 75 degree day. clear and bright. a long standing truth is learned. weather is held in check and known by no man. the earth and it's maker are mighty and whimsical.
another truth. the world, beyond the weather, is less and less known. and as i am now, i must prepare for the winter and the seasons ahead. thicken my skin, protect what is dear.
storms are a-comin. meet me in the shelter. i'll bring the Iron & Wine.
this is the prescription i wrote myself a day or two ago. while not admitting that some sickness may be attacking, i feel the comings on. the two pills are 'purple cornflower', known as echinacea. the two packets are emergen-C. nothing drastic here. assume no defeat until it's too late. always was a trail blazer. blazing trails potentially into sickness and idiocy.
actually, i something much stranger than all that happened today. after literally freezing temps on mon and tues, rainy cold on wed and thurs, the ever fickle natured weather sprung on us a 75 degree day. clear and bright. a long standing truth is learned. weather is held in check and known by no man. the earth and it's maker are mighty and whimsical.
another truth. the world, beyond the weather, is less and less known. and as i am now, i must prepare for the winter and the seasons ahead. thicken my skin, protect what is dear.
storms are a-comin. meet me in the shelter. i'll bring the Iron & Wine.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
the snow keeps me sharp...
i will attempt to overwhelm you (or maybe just regular-whelm you) today with two, yes two posts, after not having written in as many months.
i must tell you of something new for me, that rouses a child like excitement that is nothing less than refreshing. it snowed. a pretty good one for old nash. first, i've never lived in the snow. second, supposedly, it never sticks. well, a couple inches fell on thurs night and it's still here this morning, glistening and crackling under foot, when one ventures out into it, leaving the warmth of layers, couches, and pressed hot black medicine (coffee).
my love and i took a walk in the falling down the other night as it dusted all around us. both God and man made things were made as one under that soft white, and how unlike anything else and quite amazing it is to see the trees and grass and ground with their white shadows, their snowy outlines. it places a romanticism in the thin chilled air as everything made beautiful.
i think perhaps the contrast between inside and outside becomes more drastic. i peak out the window and see a world beyond that to step into takes thought and preparation. i am protected from it all and this is my home. perhaps the cozy connotations of home become more readily felt when the frozen out-of-doors lays kept at bay.
when prepared, both in mind and in dress, the snow and cold is a wonderful thing!
over the thanxgiving time, i awoke one morning and like a strong wind i was compelled to write. i'd like to share that with you now. and secondly, i'm reminded of an older poem that i wrote that today's snowy day just demands that i include.
i endeavor to write to you more while my mind, far from the frozen world, is warm and alive with words and dreams.
----------------------------
'daybreaking'
the daybreak sun
pushes down
tirelessly
through fog and
the fragile early hour frost,
breaking apart shadows
and the sediment
of yesterday's worries.
the night may capture
all of the previous day
holding our thoughts
like the stiff green/white grass,
but the still and cold
that holds it all in silence
effortlessly bleeds into
that morning peace--
quiet reverie of newness.
all will thaw
and is made whole and new
at the first glows
stretching far from the horizon.
when these panes of glass
hold not back that daybreak sun
from my face,
my eyes behold a clarity
so sharp
and my mind rests in that
healing morning silence.
----------------------------
'sd snow'
the snow fell
or so the pictures told.
it fell for you
deep into my spring months.
the weather’s promise
of the cold
became old tradition
for you and your Midwest.
hugging branches
and porch banisters,
sleeping in stream beds,
the white erases the past
in icy breaths.
though I sit hearthed and homed
a thousand miles away
from your familiar
snow clouded skies,
the draft from under the door
brings crystalline water memories
and a chill to my neck.
as I put the water
on to boil,
I peak out the window shade
to my own cool evening sky,
snowed pictures in hand.
----------------------------
i must tell you of something new for me, that rouses a child like excitement that is nothing less than refreshing. it snowed. a pretty good one for old nash. first, i've never lived in the snow. second, supposedly, it never sticks. well, a couple inches fell on thurs night and it's still here this morning, glistening and crackling under foot, when one ventures out into it, leaving the warmth of layers, couches, and pressed hot black medicine (coffee).
my love and i took a walk in the falling down the other night as it dusted all around us. both God and man made things were made as one under that soft white, and how unlike anything else and quite amazing it is to see the trees and grass and ground with their white shadows, their snowy outlines. it places a romanticism in the thin chilled air as everything made beautiful.
i think perhaps the contrast between inside and outside becomes more drastic. i peak out the window and see a world beyond that to step into takes thought and preparation. i am protected from it all and this is my home. perhaps the cozy connotations of home become more readily felt when the frozen out-of-doors lays kept at bay.
when prepared, both in mind and in dress, the snow and cold is a wonderful thing!
over the thanxgiving time, i awoke one morning and like a strong wind i was compelled to write. i'd like to share that with you now. and secondly, i'm reminded of an older poem that i wrote that today's snowy day just demands that i include.
i endeavor to write to you more while my mind, far from the frozen world, is warm and alive with words and dreams.
----------------------------
'daybreaking'
the daybreak sun
pushes down
tirelessly
through fog and
the fragile early hour frost,
breaking apart shadows
and the sediment
of yesterday's worries.
the night may capture
all of the previous day
holding our thoughts
like the stiff green/white grass,
but the still and cold
that holds it all in silence
effortlessly bleeds into
that morning peace--
quiet reverie of newness.
all will thaw
and is made whole and new
at the first glows
stretching far from the horizon.
when these panes of glass
hold not back that daybreak sun
from my face,
my eyes behold a clarity
so sharp
and my mind rests in that
healing morning silence.
----------------------------
'sd snow'
the snow fell
or so the pictures told.
it fell for you
deep into my spring months.
the weather’s promise
of the cold
became old tradition
for you and your Midwest.
hugging branches
and porch banisters,
sleeping in stream beds,
the white erases the past
in icy breaths.
though I sit hearthed and homed
a thousand miles away
from your familiar
snow clouded skies,
the draft from under the door
brings crystalline water memories
and a chill to my neck.
as I put the water
on to boil,
I peak out the window shade
to my own cool evening sky,
snowed pictures in hand.
----------------------------
snippits...signposts...and ostensible musings...
-- "i saw a tree in my travels today, half ablaze in yellow and orange leaves, fiery rustling in the biting cool breeze, and half barren, naked, still. winter chill is upon us and the autumn winds and the hues they bring are leaving." --
i wrote that on the ninth of november, a far cry and time from today's winter day. how funny. while driving i saw this tree, normal to any other on any other day, but that day it spoke to me. clearly. the changing of season, the change following the chapters in our lives. my time here has been brimming with much change, naturally. and perhaps one of the hard aspects of life and local change is the retention of all the good that has come before.
i, as we all do, get very much wrapped in all this important and unimportant here, with my job, with my love, and with this new whirling future. then, in waves, little bits, memories mostly, flood back with all their smells, sounds, and tactile veracity, and i am taken sad for parts of days. my mind, in the silence of my focused woodworking, has much time to pass to and fro through time, and traverse the states, timezones, mountains and miles to visit all those i hold in love. one memory or carefully wrapped bunch of memories that i return to often is that of my time on the indian reservations. a few weeks ago, though i cannot recall when, i jotted this in a failed attempt to blog. at the time, i believe i tried to tack these two fragments together, in hopes of appeasing the guilt that eats at my for not writing. but, now, i have properly eulogized those false starts of creative thought but giving them at least a small frame in which to persist.
-- "i'm missing the rez. there is no eloquent way to put it, though i sit here and stare at the keys, trying to paint that longing in some softer way, just to ease it a little. i miss that something that is ephemeral as my telling you of it." --
i suppose that the most interesting thing is not the words or sentiments that either contain, but perhaps their lasting worth comes from their comparison and contrast to today's day. and all the things that i'm feeling now. little sign posts to consider in looking back.
life is settling into a veritable rhythm, and this passage of time does not tarnish the past, but rather affords me time to take each thought and polish it's exterior to the glow of loving memory...
i wrote that on the ninth of november, a far cry and time from today's winter day. how funny. while driving i saw this tree, normal to any other on any other day, but that day it spoke to me. clearly. the changing of season, the change following the chapters in our lives. my time here has been brimming with much change, naturally. and perhaps one of the hard aspects of life and local change is the retention of all the good that has come before.
i, as we all do, get very much wrapped in all this important and unimportant here, with my job, with my love, and with this new whirling future. then, in waves, little bits, memories mostly, flood back with all their smells, sounds, and tactile veracity, and i am taken sad for parts of days. my mind, in the silence of my focused woodworking, has much time to pass to and fro through time, and traverse the states, timezones, mountains and miles to visit all those i hold in love. one memory or carefully wrapped bunch of memories that i return to often is that of my time on the indian reservations. a few weeks ago, though i cannot recall when, i jotted this in a failed attempt to blog. at the time, i believe i tried to tack these two fragments together, in hopes of appeasing the guilt that eats at my for not writing. but, now, i have properly eulogized those false starts of creative thought but giving them at least a small frame in which to persist.
-- "i'm missing the rez. there is no eloquent way to put it, though i sit here and stare at the keys, trying to paint that longing in some softer way, just to ease it a little. i miss that something that is ephemeral as my telling you of it." --
i suppose that the most interesting thing is not the words or sentiments that either contain, but perhaps their lasting worth comes from their comparison and contrast to today's day. and all the things that i'm feeling now. little sign posts to consider in looking back.
life is settling into a veritable rhythm, and this passage of time does not tarnish the past, but rather affords me time to take each thought and polish it's exterior to the glow of loving memory...
Friday, October 24, 2008
still breathing...
life is very seldom what it seems at first glance. we never end up at the end of the path we think we are walking down.
to make it, just to survive sometimes, we must call upon our future selves, draw up the spirit of the mature, mighty oak already alive and well within us to carry us along in the thin times that stretch us and threaten to break us limb from limb. but there is provision out there, laid up in waiting for us, ready to cradle us in layers of soft peace.
yet i find myself trying to suck in the air, instead of relenting, and allowing the free flowing breath to rush into me. i fretfully try and hold all the little shards of the present between my fingers, hoping to put the pieces together into my jig-sawed future. but, oh, the buoyancy and flight that we have when we 'breathe past' the hills and valleys.
tomorrow is here, and the present is one thought behind you. hindsight gives that crystal vision that we needed today. we crave it, that blessed perspective that equalizes. but for such a future minded people (or at least we hope to be), we fall prey to the so essentially and desperately human problem of being stuck in our present.
i'm not saying leave no thought for today. but it's rolling and frothing, wavelike, desiring to carry us forward or to suck us down into the tumult beneath the waters.
i'm, one day at a time, one step closer to finding my breathing pattern, and i'm just trying not to drown...
to make it, just to survive sometimes, we must call upon our future selves, draw up the spirit of the mature, mighty oak already alive and well within us to carry us along in the thin times that stretch us and threaten to break us limb from limb. but there is provision out there, laid up in waiting for us, ready to cradle us in layers of soft peace.
yet i find myself trying to suck in the air, instead of relenting, and allowing the free flowing breath to rush into me. i fretfully try and hold all the little shards of the present between my fingers, hoping to put the pieces together into my jig-sawed future. but, oh, the buoyancy and flight that we have when we 'breathe past' the hills and valleys.
tomorrow is here, and the present is one thought behind you. hindsight gives that crystal vision that we needed today. we crave it, that blessed perspective that equalizes. but for such a future minded people (or at least we hope to be), we fall prey to the so essentially and desperately human problem of being stuck in our present.
i'm not saying leave no thought for today. but it's rolling and frothing, wavelike, desiring to carry us forward or to suck us down into the tumult beneath the waters.
i'm, one day at a time, one step closer to finding my breathing pattern, and i'm just trying not to drown...
Friday, October 17, 2008
oh, waning moon, you leave me wanting...,
i always wait with such innocent anticipation for that full moon. and it always seems to take forever to fill that last little bit in. and then, if you don't catch it right....if you don't see it in it's full beauty, it slips effortlessly away. that golden moment passes and leaves you with days and weeks of familiar anticipation.
the lunar cycle of these events in my recently life have been occurring with great radiance. but here i am on the waning side, and the waiting is torturous.
oh how the moon, that harvest moon, that peaked over the mesa horizon in Hopiland, was full and shown for what seemed like night after night. the fullness and ecstasy of that surreal time with RedFeather, hung in the air those same nights. but that time and now that memory is feeling like that last slipping silver sliver.
then the expectation and all that came along with the move. now here i am in Nash, the roads becoming familiar, and here i am in my own apartment writing, bereft of typical furnishings, yet content. the warm feeling of this new home contrasts with a constant, yet waning, feeling of displacement.
my anticipation, (which i believe is a sane and necessary human trait but must be tempered with a simultaneous present-focused revelry in what you already possess), now turns me to thoughts of a job, a career. hard to find. harder in these times.
on a side note, i'm enjoying the cooler weather, and rather looking forward to sweaters, and scarves and that winter melancholy that is soothed with another warm body, hot coffee, and a burning fireplace.
just need to catch a break, i think. and i'm feeling right on the verge of that. i can see the moon is almost full again, and the waiting is almost over...
the lunar cycle of these events in my recently life have been occurring with great radiance. but here i am on the waning side, and the waiting is torturous.
oh how the moon, that harvest moon, that peaked over the mesa horizon in Hopiland, was full and shown for what seemed like night after night. the fullness and ecstasy of that surreal time with RedFeather, hung in the air those same nights. but that time and now that memory is feeling like that last slipping silver sliver.
then the expectation and all that came along with the move. now here i am in Nash, the roads becoming familiar, and here i am in my own apartment writing, bereft of typical furnishings, yet content. the warm feeling of this new home contrasts with a constant, yet waning, feeling of displacement.
my anticipation, (which i believe is a sane and necessary human trait but must be tempered with a simultaneous present-focused revelry in what you already possess), now turns me to thoughts of a job, a career. hard to find. harder in these times.
on a side note, i'm enjoying the cooler weather, and rather looking forward to sweaters, and scarves and that winter melancholy that is soothed with another warm body, hot coffee, and a burning fireplace.
just need to catch a break, i think. and i'm feeling right on the verge of that. i can see the moon is almost full again, and the waiting is almost over...
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
definition and dreams
trying hard not to equate job stability with the sense of place or home. but it's hard not to. hard to find great places who just aren't ready or able to hire. hard to find places anxious to hire but not quite right for me. hard to feel like one of the cattle, out on the much-too-small-range, hustling for my piece.
don't want to miss the opportunities. but don't want to jump just at the first prospect just because i'm hungry. want, most of all, to find the right job. the place that is going to give my heart peace, my hands challenging work. can't give up, though it's all i want to do after a hard day like today.
i am at a place of faith, if i've ever seen one. i need to trust that i'm gonna be okay, but do the necessary leg work. need to trust that the right thing is gonna come along, but i can't wait for it.
some moments of the day, i want to better my station and move up and outward to places unknown. sometimes i just want to be a simple carpenter who knows who he is and cherishes life in the same way he appreciates a fine piece of wood.
this crossroads, this junction, is so much more than just a marker in my life. i am choosing how to define myself, and the weight of such things is pressing.
i am thankful for the little i do know and i do have:
for her.
for my health.
for my dreams.
i suppose that is enough for now...
don't want to miss the opportunities. but don't want to jump just at the first prospect just because i'm hungry. want, most of all, to find the right job. the place that is going to give my heart peace, my hands challenging work. can't give up, though it's all i want to do after a hard day like today.
i am at a place of faith, if i've ever seen one. i need to trust that i'm gonna be okay, but do the necessary leg work. need to trust that the right thing is gonna come along, but i can't wait for it.
some moments of the day, i want to better my station and move up and outward to places unknown. sometimes i just want to be a simple carpenter who knows who he is and cherishes life in the same way he appreciates a fine piece of wood.
this crossroads, this junction, is so much more than just a marker in my life. i am choosing how to define myself, and the weight of such things is pressing.
i am thankful for the little i do know and i do have:
for her.
for my health.
for my dreams.
i suppose that is enough for now...
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
pacing my life...
(the new band in my ears: Fleet Foxes....check 'em out...)
do we consider pace as an important aspect of our lives?
it seems as if the world has picked up to a break-neck speed and shows no sign of slowing. and i feel as if i'm working very hard to slow down my little slice of this world. what's more, a slower pace of life has almost become synonymous to some with a backwards and archaic modus operandi. the coasts of this great land speed ahead without considering what can be learned from anything less then light-speed. so here i am. in the midst of slower paced part of the country. trying to find my place.
i had two interviews today that couldn't have been more different. one with a woodworker that cared about detail and excellence, who saw his integrity as connected and reflective of his craftsmanship. moving only as fast as the work dictates, making sure that work is second to faith and family. quality above productivity.
the second was with a marketing firm, where if you weren't bettering business no matter what the cost and producing no matter the time it took, you were dead weight and not worth the breath it took to tell you. my head was spinning with the lightning-fast thoughts and retorts that it took to respond to the interviewers machine-gun questioning. pitting me blatantly against the others at that cattle call.
since Ford or the industrial revolution we have lauded productivity and the speed therein more than the skill of the working man, on which all of it was built. we streamline ourselves, to make more time for everything else. but if we lose our souls, our skills, our basic human understanding, what do we have left to spend our time on?
i'm scared that i'm in a squeeze. that the hunger and the need for money to make my little world keep turning, will inevitably force me to a place where i can't make the slow pace life work.
I want the freedom to provide for my future family without having to give up the pace of life that keeps me close to the earth, that keeps me close to people, and close to the things that really matter in the end.
do we consider pace as an important aspect of our lives?
it seems as if the world has picked up to a break-neck speed and shows no sign of slowing. and i feel as if i'm working very hard to slow down my little slice of this world. what's more, a slower pace of life has almost become synonymous to some with a backwards and archaic modus operandi. the coasts of this great land speed ahead without considering what can be learned from anything less then light-speed. so here i am. in the midst of slower paced part of the country. trying to find my place.
i had two interviews today that couldn't have been more different. one with a woodworker that cared about detail and excellence, who saw his integrity as connected and reflective of his craftsmanship. moving only as fast as the work dictates, making sure that work is second to faith and family. quality above productivity.
the second was with a marketing firm, where if you weren't bettering business no matter what the cost and producing no matter the time it took, you were dead weight and not worth the breath it took to tell you. my head was spinning with the lightning-fast thoughts and retorts that it took to respond to the interviewers machine-gun questioning. pitting me blatantly against the others at that cattle call.
since Ford or the industrial revolution we have lauded productivity and the speed therein more than the skill of the working man, on which all of it was built. we streamline ourselves, to make more time for everything else. but if we lose our souls, our skills, our basic human understanding, what do we have left to spend our time on?
i'm scared that i'm in a squeeze. that the hunger and the need for money to make my little world keep turning, will inevitably force me to a place where i can't make the slow pace life work.
I want the freedom to provide for my future family without having to give up the pace of life that keeps me close to the earth, that keeps me close to people, and close to the things that really matter in the end.
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