Poems and such.

The more aware of your intentions and your experiences you become, the more you will be able to connect the two, and the more you will be able to create the experiences of your life consciously. This is the development of mastery. It is the creation of authentic power.

When my son begins to make a gun with his finger and his thumb I ask Who do you know that plays that way? Where did you learn about shooting? He saysno one plays that way I learned it from my heart when something is dancing hard and fast on my heart it makes that noise peeeew, peeeew, peeeew shooting is like a bowl in my breath. And the next time someone asks me do we carry historical pain from past generations into the next? I answer an unequivocal, yes.

I carry my precarious heart, radiant and already fading, out with me along the tiled corridors into the rest of the world, which thinks it is opaque and hard. I am being very careful. O heart, now that I know your nature, who can I tell?

I need the joy in my life to live outside of my body. I need to see it, to touch it. I need that outside of my body even more than I need the rage, confusion, and sadness on the outside. I know the sadness will always replenish itself. There is no certainty in almost anything else. I don’t know how long I’ll get to hear my wife sing along to pop songs in the car during road trips. I don’t know how much longer I’ll get to talk to my father with him remembering who I am. I don’t know when my dog will be too old to rush towards me with a wagging tail whenever I come back from an especially long trip. I need those things to live in other places. I need to have them outside of me so that I can run into them on the days where I will need to. Surely, each small joy has an expiration date. I have touched the edges of them. I don’t know how to fight against this reality except for to write into these moments with urgency. With fearlessness and hunger.