turmeric

Turmeric Tea

He stays in his crate.
Hot water boils.
Sleep is in air.
It’s quiet, except for cars whizzing like the drone of a white noise machine.

I reuse old tea bags.
Kill me.
Tea warms my chin as I type.
I breathe in the earthy smell of turmeric and ginger.

I am thinking stillness.
I am watching the heart carefully open its windows.
I must remain still, allow Grace to unfold.
Or do I disturb it? Say, “This is me! Look at me!”

Well, how much of that noise is actually me?
What am I feeling?
Ok, I am nervous. Anxious.
Heart palpitating with nerves.
Hey, nerves aren’t bad, they can be the positive side of the coin.

It’s so nice to sit here.
The day has yet to begin…
The possibilities are endless.
Turmeric, ginger, stillness, sleepy dogs, a house asleep.

church

What is your church?

It’s weird when I have Time.
Real Time.
Honest-to-goodness space.
It’s like the day takes longer to work out.
“Work out,” God. It’s like I’m solving a math quiz.
I can’t switch off the active brain, the workhorse brain.
How about this: the day takes longer to evolve and take shape.
Suddenly space gives me Freedom.
Like, wha?
Freedom to choose (imagine that),
To choose what I want to do with myself, this moment, my purpose.
Yeah, those kinda thoughts.

Suddenly, sitting down with my dog is Acceptable.
Letting myself daze and doze off, is Inviting.
Kicking up my feet and chilling is the Norm.

What do you worship?
What do you spend most of your time/energy/resources on?
What God do you bow to?
Is it the God of work, television, working out, hanging out with friends, doing nothing?
Is it the God of negative thoughts, self-deprecating humor, desperation, competition?
What’s your church?

On days like this, it makes me think real thoughts. Important evolutionary ones.
I could get used to this…

why aren’t they flowin’?

FADE IN: two men on a bench.

A: She’s dumping me, man. I can’t fuckin’ believe it. I mean. Where did that come from? I thought we were going strong, you know.

B: I get it/

A: /Two fuckin’ years, man. No, over two fuckin’ years. Like, that’s. I mean, that’s like taking out a car loan and you’re almost done with the payments.

B: Yeah…(?)

A: I mean, a shitty car so the payments are quick, but you get what I’m sayin’. Fuck! I’m never going to do this again, I swear, I’m done.

B: Nah man, don’t say that.

A: No, really! I’m done. I’ve had it. My heart is closing shut from this point on. I feel it happening as we speak. Fuck that bitch.

B: How does that happen? Suddenly your ex-lady’s a bitch.

A: Yeah, she’s a fuckin’ bitch! What part of that do you don’t understand?! Don’t get me riled up, man.

B: It’s just, she had her reasons, man. If you loved her, you would understand.

A cringes like he’s attempting to weep.

A: The tears aren’t flowin’. They’re in there, I can feel them, they’re just not falling out. My heart is broken and closed, all at the same time.

B puts his arm around A.

A tries to weep.

A: Why aren’t my tears flowin’?

B: It’ll happen in its own time.

B holds A.

FADE OUT.

 

 

 

 

loose yourself

Loose Yourself, Hafiz

Leave the familiar for a while.

Let your senses and bodies stretch out

Like a welcomed season
Onto the meadows and shores and hills.

Open up to the Roof.
Make a new water-mark on your excitement
And love.

Like a blooming night flower,
Bestow your vital fragrance of happiness
And giving
Upon our intimate assembly.

Change rooms in your mind for a day.

All the hemispheres in existence
Lie beside an equator
In your heart.

Greet Yourself
In your thousand other forms
As you mount the hidden tide and travel
Back home.

All the hemispheres in heaven
Are sitting around a fire
Chatting

While stitching themselves together
Into the Great Circle inside of
You.

Hafiz

first meet

first meet

I can hear my heart beating.
I can hear myself laughing at his jokes.
I can smell the curly fries from Jack in the Box as we walk to my house
I can feel our hands shaking, as if we were very nervous.
Oh, wait… we are.
It’s the first time he’s coming over for dinner with my family.
I open the gate to my house, slowly and lead him in.
As I slam the gate, leaves fall down from the tree as if like snow; but sadly, it doesn’t snow in LA.
We stop and turn to each other when we arrive at the door.
I can hear my breathing.
I can feel him shaking.
I look into his eyes and say to him, “Ready?”
From where we’re standing I can hear them laughing from the other side of the door.
I squeeze his hand and he squeezes mine.
I pen the door, as I walk in first.
I smell the sweet apples that are in the basket beside the entrance.
And it started with a “hello.”

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First Meet by Angela Hernandez from Before There Were Bars, POPS The Club