Preoccupied, I grasp at air trying to halt the passage of time the sickening, consistent tick, tick, tick that makes my heartbeat quicken tearing me away from where I am now I want to be so fully present that I can use these moments as patches to protect me in that future I fear collecting up all my small treasures to remind me this life has been a blessing There is no avoiding human suffering and I haven't yet had my fair share I have to learn to carry this cringing resistance while still enjoying the sticky leaves of spring while still soaking up love and sunlight The best preparation is practicing peace and expanding my capacity for gratitude with every sip of precious cool water resting in the sweet stirrings among the trees and observing the cyclical life of the hillsides
nature
Long Walks in Spring
There is a healing, humming hush that rustles through the tall grass on long walks along the littered roadside The rising vibration of returning life as we circle back toward the outstretched arms of the sun that has kept us waiting with held breath Bringing inspiration that flows in with the warm air through the open window's billowing white curtains lifting old dust motes out of corners and into the light This soft atmosphere makes it easy to forgive and gently set aside the harsh bleak days of December making space for the fresh growth of wonder and wildflowers
Spring Release
Sweet, sinful secrets grow stale kept away from the spring light urgent longing to release bleeding tongues bound with twine Something stirring deep beneath the rolling hillside breeze the tense, stagnant feeling in the air right before the downpour Trembling, tender buds on the cusp of a new season those brave first days of nature defying a few more morning frosts Honeysuckle blossoms spattered with dirt alongside the highway the smell of fresh pavement challenging earth's resilience Perpetual ascension, futile suppression thick air soon breaks into thunderstorms paint the dark earth with the wretched truth this land has lessons, it does not lie
Feral
I am just a wild animal a fully feral little freak no different than the glowing eyes that flash under the full moon No more pretending that some part of me will find fulfillment in oppressive systems all human aspirations are cages that cannot hold me anymore Stop asking me what I want to be a garden snake has no goals only the visceral vindication of connection with earthly sensations can satiate me The gritty coolness of the dark soil the sudden heat of the sun that sends shivers I refuse to delude myself with foolish endeavors I reject this false notion called human
Rising Up
Lost between pages and piles of distractions ever droning engine drum of artificial escape limp, moth-eaten mannequin limbs propped against restless birds inside ribcages scattering feathers There is no anesthetic strong enough to obliterate this deep green, groaning forest that continues to grow impossible to silence the crashing violence of the sea enclosed in a stainless steel container half its size There is an holy thunder cloud that will surely rise from beneath the writhing mass of the overwhelmed a fearsome force of almighty nature to burst upon the scorched earth arrogance of mankind's oppression The twitching frustration of pinprick impatience is just energy building like static electricity the tickling sensation of all the insects scattering in anticipation before the entire sky bursts open
The Death of Beauty
There is a sad, humbling peace beneath the soft pain of realizing I am as helpless as the trees to prevent the age old forests from being torn down in one day for the filth stained greed that most others foolishly believe is a benefit to my species but we are not the same breed I am just another animal left homeless in the wreckage forced to watch the endless rape of our most holy mother earth as I tremble with the reeds bearing witness to the pain pulsating through all of nature is the only gesture I can offer to lie down alongside my fellow woodland creatures beneath the brutal, blood-soaked wheels of industry as we watch the death of beauty the end of everything
The Ocean Breathes
Serenity resides beside the seashore beneath the salty breath of the ocean the rhythmic humming of the heavy tide reminds me to breathe deeply The liquid lungs of this sacred planet the dark, watery womb of all life releasing oxygen into the atmosphere while it sways against the weight of the moon The crashing exhale of massive waves chases away all fears of letting go hypnotized by the back and forth of forces far greater than I The awe-inspiring grandeur of the undulating sea brings a deep sense of peace I've been holding my breath
Manifest
Early morning cracks us open a plump, orange yolk perched upon the rolling expanse of open acres the symphony of dawn begins beneath a veil of cool, dissipating mist The earth awakens and unfurls in an instant with interwoven, simultaneous, upbeat bustling as hundreds of intricate beings of all sizes emerge to dutifully begin their humble daily tasks unwittingly weaving the world together for one another The swollen present swallows us completely enveloped in the electric energy currents of pulsating life rushing through creek beds and rustling vibrant leaves a soothing, faithful hum that echoes inside and out intoxicated by the sweet nectar of undulating harmony Each moment overflowing with the simple joy of right now lapping up the soft waters of where we belong indistinguishable elements of the intricate, lush landscape synchronizing ourselves to the cadence of all creation every instant ripe with it's own inherent meaning
Shit Town
Heaps of firewood and artful hedge mazes sharp accents and aging illiterate eyes bars and churches are the only buildings breaking up vast expanses of breathtaking nature nothing to interfere with the majesty of the deep night sky A common thread of rolling country and the dozens of roaming dogs that were discarded back to the open land by careless hands, whipped clean, and well satisfied with their clever plan for casting off other beings A city nestles behind the hillside a few hours away and it's inhabitants keep the questions coming, "Haven't you ever thought of moving?" with an earnestness that is surprising as much as it is saddening Who would ever think of abandoning Eden? this heaven hidden among the worst kinds of humans harbors worlds of its own within the intricate moss lattice knit across acres of expanding woodlands behind rustling leaves and a chorus of melded chirrups The knowledge that so many lives haven't had the privilege to know the earth so intimately stings my heart in a way I can't put into words even more animals kept in cages away from the sweet medicine of sun and soil My answer is no, I will never leave this place even while I watch filthy industry moving in my very essence is intertwined with these forests I will fall with the trees and be burned up like mere raw material with their lumber if I must
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-eight years spent in the same place that felt like a prison when I was sixteen It once seemed like failure not escaping to surroundings exciting and unfamiliar somewhere far away But now I see it as a blessing to grow where you are planted to traverse the same worn paths through friendly trees in summer To sit upon the same faithful earth that holds mementos of my childhood and watch the slow changes in myself reflected back by the whispering hillsides Sharing secrets with the soiled river that has always known me more deeply than anyone could through words alone as it runs alongside my inner life The quiet protection of the thick woods softly urging me onward in time tiny hands searching for fish hook treasures among steep, rocky shores just outside of town The awesome unfurling of a life and a land intertwined the profoundly soothing resonance of a home that's greater than home