How a string of moments flows by and then we look back up stream and see the rapids and the swirling pools and wonder just how we survived all the craziness.

How could it be that this choice in this drop of time set loose the events of tomorrow?

Wouldn’t it be great if we matured rather than turned sour? Bitter. Aged to perfection not prediction…..you know fine wine as opposed to great vinegar?

Stay tuned…

A striving storm, of swirling wind…

Steel-eyed for havens,

We gasp-wrap ourselves in dungeons away.

Still His storm shrilly screams ,

Fearing danger in dustily designs

Shifting our shrouds we stay.

Shelters are snatched…

Secrets slain bare.

Are our arched glances safe?

No shelter withstands it…

No heart secludes it.

We are wrapped in collapsible shame.

His storm,

Perfect in dissections pain.

Shatters life stable and sane.

Yet  whispered in days to come…

promised calms,

understandings sweet.

Leaves and sticks-acorns and bark
Piles of debris
Long shucked from life,
flotsam.

Midst spring rain,TORRENTS!!
Cascades
of monsoons descend.

Downspout silent….clogged.
While hostas beaten, drowned, float away.

My gutters cleaned?
My heart’s a smooth flowing depository of seasonal rain…
accountability.

Too late for hostas…
for me?

I am struggling with procrastination…which means that I probably should just dive in….then again….as a private person….how do I legitimately just write what is on my soul…for a crowd of well wishers to read and comment on? Maybe my best bet is to stay a dinosaur and not enter the age of bloggage??

Neurosis aside…

I am supposed to be connecting deeper with folks this year….

New Year’s Resolution: good for body and soul to be open and transparent!

And blogging definitely can and should allow for a greater degree of transparency. So I dive in!

Met with a mobilizer yesterday. Nice guy.  Busy…but very much committed to dealing with the crisis that I dumped on his doorstep…ready to rally public opinion to take up my cause. That seemed pretty simple…just a basic sense that if he calls….they will come….and my problem will be solved. I liked that confidence.  If you are older than 35…you might remember Tarzan or George of the Jungle who would stand on the tree branch give the infamous “Ahhhhhhhheeeeeeahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” and the jungle would awake with birds and elephants and lions all rushing to the scene….Really, really liked that confidence. 

My heart on the other hand immediately goes to “but what if I call them….and no body shows!?!” 

Maybe that is why he is mobilizer and I am a visionary? 

So…tune in next time….

Re-entry does wild things….anger geysers up hot and spewing…and then fades as quickly into deep pools of loneliness. Am I losing my mind in this process…oh no, it is only week 3 of re-entry! Nothing too serious…except for the poor souls slain in my wake!

So why so volatile? Why so sporadic? Why so?

Crossing cultures, living outside of my comfort, the eating ox knees….these events tend to not fit into routine American life. So as I lived from one snowy pass to another…my heart stored up fear, stored up incredulous experiences, could only process a bit here or there…and now, when my days are slower…my routine more “normal”….my brain is going back through the events and cataloging them…no Dewey decimals for the heart!! I just have to give my internal computer time to file away the memories that broke my heart….then I will be able to pull them up and once again weep intelligibly….perhaps.

But today…the stacks are not filed….and so whatever comes to the top of the pile…emotes! Boy, does it ever emote.

Week 3….come on over and try it out…..please do not  loan me weapons!