Future Tents

March 29

FUTURE TENTS

The future seeps in through the windows, like the dawn stealing across the sky. Once I inhale it, I am out of doors, only the lightest of canvas covering me. The opening flaps in the breeze. The wind of unbidden things echoes off the walls of people shut out from this adventure. I brace myself for the cutting current but am greeted by the softest of zephyrs. I duck out. I stand unfettered. Lonely whispers call but I am isolated. The scene is empty, serene and beautiful. There are other tents, other seekers standing on other hills but they see their own futures from the vantage of their own tents and thankfully I am left to see mine.

Tape a coin to the place you sleep.

*

Catalog of Growth

The right seed in the right season

grows a garden of miracles for me.

I get the food for my table

or the stores for winter.

Sometimes when I’m in a Jack like predicament,

right planted seeds can provide a bean stalk

of escape from my restricted life.

I have a role to play with these wonders.

I must sort the seeds from the pebbles.

I must let the kernels out of my pocket

and into the ground.

I water when I can

and harvest what comes to fruition.

Though the best by far

is the part when I get to share the seeds.

Feelings

March 28

FEELINGS

Getting my feelings back was like a package delivered---not a letter bomb, more like live squid or bait of some kind. It was something to catch me out there. I think overcoming the shock was more or less the small part, though it seemed to loom at the time. The squirming, the writhing of my soul was like a pregnancy following a bad dream. I wondered how this became a part of me. I squandered my days hoping it would leave quietly some night soon. Like all difficult relationships, I attempted to hold my breath through it. Failing this, I tried to offer my feelings a guest wing in my heart and a never-ending supply of tea and cookies. When the reality of life with feelings planted itself firmly in me, I let out my breath, stopped the hostess act and endeavored to roll with it. This worked well. I have since invested in a wet- suit and fins. The squid are much easier to live with when I meet them on their turf.

Sponge off what life flings at you.

*

Yes, Virginia there is a solution

Suspended in the colloid of sobriety

the overly large molecule, which is me,

finds a fix I couldn’t imagine.

I can get better, I do get better,

I have a set of values to substitute into the old equations.

I now live in a mixture where there is one thing in common

and all the rest are variants which ordinarily don’t mix.

The scientific method is entry to homogenous living;

a concept that never made it to the table

in my days as a rogue element.

And with all this on board,

the thing I love the best is that it grows;

what I can do and how I can do it

is an ever widening frame of reference,

Even things which were once outside of my view

are now possible.

I am grateful that there is a solution

I am amazed that it is the solution to everything.

Calibrate Coincidence

March 27

CALIBRATE COINCIDENCE

Do good. Do right. Line up with the next correct movement. Get the universe locked into the sprockets of my desires and make the miracles flow in my direction. Ah, the boy scout merit badge of sobriety. I force spiritual alchemy through the pasta maker of my small life expecting gold. And where is God? Where is the realness of reality? Where is my place in this hairy mess? Well, who knows? Am I the wizard? The Chemist? The mechanic of the galaxy? Though I wish and hope, in truth, I am not the one who calibrates coincidence. I am the receiver of.

Date your recovery.

*

Feelings/Facts

Delay is when I don’t deal with the tack,

don’t deal with the finish nail,

land up with a 12 penny in my heel

and think about waiting for the railroad spike.

Rebellion is when I run through the razor-wire fence

expecting to make a clean get away.

If I don’t socialize my problems when they are puppies

all hope is lost when faced with the big dogs.

Exiting out the fifth story window is suicide in fact,

but in my thinking I am merely rebelling.

Willingness and cooperation make a dynamic duo;

powerful combatants of delay, rebellion,

and many other joy killing, life stealing foes.

A life led with cooperation and willingness

is not necessarily perfection,

but it often feels that way.

The Orphanage of my Heart

March 26

THE ORPHANAGE OF MY HEART

The orphanage of my heart holds many children, children of my past. They gaze at me, fixed in an attempt to draw me near their needs. I scurry, often my head down, eyes averted, not knowing how to offer comfort or consideration to these hapless souls. Fearing the largesse of the poverty, I decline to open my small purse. What could I tender other than a tease? Nearly barren in my heart-broken, disconsolate, inconsolable state, I rarely even obligate myself to extending my hand. This is the pit of my idiocy. These wee ones have the world of hope and strength to give. I am their offertory. I am the place where their gold resides. They live inside me to fill me and bind me to life and light. I flee them in the height of misunderstanding. Disconnected from these inner spirits, I am impoverished and far too weak to grasp their help. Too fogged to see the world within, I starve in the world without.

Incubate an idea.

*

New Borne

What happens when you finally get what you want,

what you barely dared to dream?

What happens when you can hardly do more

than drip tears down from smiling eyes?

Where do you go with a future filled with proposed joy?

Heaven is an option if only you believed,

but hell has been such a perennial destination

it’s hard to realize there will be no return trip this year

or possibly ever again.

The work required to change

from an attitude of longing to one of satisfaction

is as real as all the work needed thus far.

Tending love is a host of disciplines

I want to step to, like I have done it all my life,

like I was born to do it

and I was,

Still growth is accompanied

by its own pain and awkwardness

and who am I to deny this treat.

Any new life worth living

is worth the pain to bear it.

The Order

March 25

THE ORDER

I can’t expect delivery if I haven’t placed the order. I never seem to know what I want until after I have accepted something else. I can remember thinking order meant procedure not procurement---set the table, not end my hunger. I focused on rational intent and turned my face from desire. Assailing outcomes leads to disappointments. Asking for a hole to be filled may cause dumping not management or conservation. It’s good to have a plan before signing the requisition. Please help me know who I am, so I will know what I want, so I can make a request and stop accepting orders of attack. Don’t let me order the end while I am still at the beginning.

Self-respect is the gift you bring to everyone.

*

Whirly Gigs

Pivot points and reference points

subtlety disguised as harmless bric-a-brac

escape my comprehension until I either stumble

or land on one or the other and ponder the affect.

Realization that much of my life’s contentment

hinges like a door shocks me,

though I don’t know why it should.

Isn’t it the way of things that it all turns on a whim

or at the very least hangs on fine gauged calculation?

I am not the capricious vixen I accuse myself of;

I am however human

and given to a certain amount of fickle fussy frenzy

which all reckons out given enough perspective and wit.

Paradox of Paradise

March 24

PARADOX OF PARADISE

Paradise is created when I collect paradox and live with it. Paradise is the set of acceptance and suspended disbelief. If anything is possible, accepting what comes is less heart-wrenching. If I arrest my misgivings, gratification in the voluptuousness of now is velvet. Vague consent is a Hell of incapacity. Fighting fiercely for both sides keeps the heart pumping and the mind at bliss. I must work to embrace contradiction and happiness. There is more than one path to take and I must take that one.

When you give time also take time.

*

Two X’s

I play sport at the three X folks

and their still sometimes skewed thinking.

Yet, I attack myself for feeling like a babe in the woods.

Old and wise should be my stock and trade by now though

I find vastness at my door regularly

and confidence struggles to peek in the window.

What in the world will I do if I can’t perfect this stuff soon?

Hopefully nothing as foolish as fretting

or anything as mean spirited as accusation.

Possibly I could try reception.

Truly this only comes in gift wrap and after twenty years

I would hope I had learned to live in the present.

Missing

March 23

MISSING

The good times we never had but should have, the pleasantries I endured waiting for the pleasure. I remembered your potential with fondness. The days, weeks and years I waited for you to grow to me have passed, and yet--- time is what I have, not you. Hope is a wonderful thing until it turns on me and bites. Images I built have tumbled and colors wash from your portrait. I carefully remind myself it’s the idea of you I miss, not you.

Practice your manners on yourself.

*

Water Buddha

The longer on the river I am

the less I fear the river.

I still don’t know what lay ahead,

anything may wait for me

just around the next bend,

but I fear this less and less.

Experience is a great foundation

no matter what you are building

or in which direction.

I’ve gotten my sea-legs,

a sure sign of the mind cooperating

with the realities the body is experiencing.

I have learned to avoid some forms of trouble

and anticipate fortune more often.

Further on could be a waterfall, ocean or dam;

I will contend with any or all, come what may,

for when it comes to riding the river

I have learned the most important thing: I

don’t need to push.