A drip-drop of sweat.
And then — crash!
Like a coin in water, the ripples explode and then — stop.
I look at it.
A flash —
All the healthy eats
Sun rays and tree shades from Jackie walks
Arguments with lover (not fights, don’t call them that)
Gluten-free organic ice cream
7am wakes and late night meetings
Freeway-traffic-pondering’s and —
Shazaam’ing music that glitters the soul.
This drip-drop comes loaded.
It leaves the body, rich with substance and prana
only to die, stained here on this cycling bike.
Don’t you know? —
This drip comes from a machine of a woman.
A warrior, with super-sonic strength;
metal armor to shield her from doubt,
and a heavy burdened crown, a reward of perseverance.
This drip-drop is evidence of
elbow grease soaked in thick, raw passion.
Well, now you know.
It is tense, concerned and contracted.
It’s early, the air asleep.
We got broken into. The garage.
Jackie thinks, bonus! everyone’s up.
Dude, I don’t want to take you out for pee.
I don’t want to pick up your poo.
I don’t want to feed you.
I want to breathe.
Give me a second.
What the fuck happened?
Holes in the skin, I feel violated.
Like a car crash.
Thank God it wasn’t the car.
Valuables, inventory, a guessing game of what was.
Jackie’s diarrhea is at the ready.
He paces in circles, tail anxious.
Come on people, he wants to say.
It’s on us, all of it.
Hard not to point fingers.
But who fuckin’ cares?
Damage is done.
The lesson came too late.
Diarrhea out. Next step: food.
Jackie circles us expecting the normal routine.
We stand like fixtures
Scratching our heads.
A fog in the brain.
The day has come.
My man returns.
Like a marathoner, I have ripped through the silk ribbon finale.
Ok, now give me my medallion.
The fear of going at this kid alone.
The fear of having to entertain, maintain, and remain a diligent parent –
The fear of him take, take, taking from me –
It lives larger in my head.
When are you gonna realize, he’s a good boy.
A kind, generous, loving, boy.
No high maintenance here.
And yet, I keep thinking he’ll take, take, take from me.
Continue reading “take take take”
A pain so sharp, it cuts.
Senses are lost in a fog, come back soon.
And there’s a void.
A real one.
Why did he have to go?
Heart beats heavy sighs and legs demand a slower pace.
It takes a million years for arms to move this way and that.
Three weeks is a very long time..
And yet, benign.
I think of those who’ve passed.
Like the pictures of Ron Heren, taped to the fatal pole, the one that ended his life.
A corner where Jackie and I must wait for the lights to change.
Leaving your loved one is like a death.
And yet, so benign.
Continue reading “tomorrow”
I ache for silence.
I yearn for space, for quiet.
The A/C blares, this’ll help for now.
I push the Creator up and out, write!
Hurray! We don’t have time.
An old voice.
Late night indecision based on waiting up for love and hoping to finish that podcast.
Jackie, quiet and sleepy.
Thank God. I feel tension release when I see this.
Continue reading “explode like a motherfucker”
Jackie the dog…was brought to the ashram when he was very young. He never mixed with other dogs, nor did he play much. Instead, he lived the life of a sadhu. He would sit in front of Bhagavan [Sri Ramana Maharshi] on an orange cloth that had been provided by a devotee and stare intently at Bhagavan’s eye. Because Bhagavan had a lot of love for him, and because he always behaved in such an exemplary fashion, he was always very well looked after… Whenever prasad [food that has been offered to God in a ceremony, then distributed to devotees] was distributed, Jackie would not eat until Bhagavan began to eat his own portion. On such occasions, he would watch Bhagavan’s face intently. As soon as Bhagavan put a morsel into his mouth, Jackie would start to eat his own portion.
I remember one incident concerning Jackie that occurred while Bhagavan was sitting by the well, surrounded by devotees. Jackie was sitting with the devotees, looking intently at Bhagavan, when a stray dog entered the ashram through the back gate. Jackie, distracted by the newcomer, began to bark.
Bhagavan gently chided him by saying, ‘You just close your eyes. You just close your eyes. You just close your eyes. If you do this you will not be able to see the dog.’
Jackie obeyed at once but some of the rest of us continued to look at the stray dog.
When I saw what was happening I laughed and remarked, ‘This is a good teaching. It is not only for Jackie, it is for everyone.’
– David Godman from Living by the Words of Bhagavan
1. Full of play or fun; sportive; frolicsome.
2. Pleasantly humorous or jesting: a playful remark.
Playfulness scares the shit outta me.
It is now my word for 2017.
Playfulness is the fizz in champagne.
It is youth, primary colors and real listening; it is teamwork, instincts and responsiveness; it is fearlessness and the lack thereof to know the Bitter End; it reminds me of a smile or a jovial smirk. It is confidence, it is three dimensional…
It is the fizz in champagne.
In a hot steamy room full of yogis this week the teacher asked, “Are you OK to be playful today?” Great question. “Are you OK” signifies do you have it in you to take on a challenge such as this? Are you OK means do you have room in your busy, serious brains to make space for something different? “To be,” signifies “Now” as in here, this moment and then this moment. And “playful today” signifies zero commitments; it is more like a teaser, a sample, a taste, a wooing of sorts that lures you in for more. Playful attracts Curiosity. Why, of course, it is Playful’s best friend.
They are the fizz in champagne.
Continue reading “fizz in champagne”