January 2, 2021
Just Hang On! I'm Ready to Let Go
As long as I keep this up
And it’s not that I don’t want to
Because I love you
I do, I do, you know
I do. It’s just that
As long as I pretend
Someday I could love you as
You love me
I keep us both from becoming
Who we’re meant to be.
All I can tell you is this, child, the old woman said.
Love is the only thing that matters.
And there’s a certain kind of love for everyone
There’s the right type to give to the right person at the right time.
Real Love can’t be pretend, no matter what kind it is.
Pretend doesn’t work when it comes to Love.
You can’t fool the heart, child, no you cannot.
So the trick, first, is to be able to Love
Love and love and love and love, wild, and open, gushing like you’ll never run out.
And as you grow, you begin to refine and to feel and to choose, to sense
Which Love is best for which circumstance.
You’ll spend a long time thinking you have control of this —
That you can change the type of Love that is born between you and
Anything else. Sure, there isn’t anything else
Besides Love, but that’s what this life is all about:
Experiencing every side of Love as if it was a million different things
And not just One. The trick is to accept them all
And allow them to come through as they will.
You cannot will the type of love reflected between two
Seemingly different things to change. Our whole assignment here
Is to accept the Love that is, as it is, and not try to change it.
Also to be honest about it.
Love is the only thing that matters, and you
Will be getting down to the bottom of the matter
Once you figure out you’re not so much the master
As the messenger.
Iron and me
It is a great irony, no?
That we cannot find anything for which we are looking
Looking from a state of loss, all is lost.
Only in the state of completion does that which completes
Comply. Arrive. Intertwine seamlessly into our lives.
I only find what I already have found.
The wind blows, howls, whines in cracks between weather seal and door frame.
One real candle burns, Carolina Sugar Cane Mist, a salty blue pool of wax
Amongst three battery powered candle beams.
The loft is a safe place and when I am here I can be
Above anything that keeps me down
Writing while no one else is around
Far enough to fall to get hurt if I hit the ground.
I’m not afraid to fall, you know.
That’s why I come up here, to fly, to die
To whatever threatens to push in, I pull myself up
And up, and up, rung by rung, til I am here,
In the peaceful place where I can let go.
I don’t want to, exactly, you know.
There have been so many wonderful places we said we’d go
And we did. We went! We did it. And yet.
Here I am, alone. But not alone at all, really
A kitty tries to lay on my chest but I’m not ready to put the keyboard to rest.
It’s best, I realize, and mean it: all for the best
All is well in my life; everything is happening for my highest good, including this
Echoes Louise Hay in my mind on replay. And I know it’s true
I do, but I still miss you and I still wish you
Might have been the real flame
Not just circuits and wires casting shadows and playing games.
Thank you for everything. Thank you for exactly where I am. Thank you for this beautiful night and my heavy blinking eyes, thank you for all that seems known but is really a surprise. Thank you for the chance to stop pretending that I know what’s going to happen next, or really where I’m even going at all. In the midst of this ride (where you drive) I am pulled to and fro, back and forth, first here, now there, just like the tide.