Thursday, May 14, 2015

Meaningless measurements of time

An anniversary of an event seems like a pale and silly thing, in light of you and your LIGHT--the person you are and have been, which pervaded and transformed everything. And certainly all that I am. Not an event, just you. You who lived in such beauty and intention, I would not dishonor you by focusing on the unintentional. No, I wrap myself about all the other times, and the timeless... How do you make an anniversary of an eternity, anyway? (And so many exquisite eternities we shared.) Short answer... you do not. You just love, and remember, always. 

 There is not a single moment that I do not

Thursday, May 7, 2015


"Maybe we should think of memory itself as a work of art--and a work of art is never finished, only abandoned."

From The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

I'm relating to so much of these that it makes me wonder how neurotic I really am.  Such as:


n. the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it—whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness—which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.

Check it out... it's a rabbit hole.  I support whole-heartedly the effort of naming the minor melancholies that we all feel but don't often have the proper poetry to give voice to...

Sunday, May 3, 2015

Maiuma 2015

On the night of the Maiuma, a festival to commemorate the joining of Dionysos and Aphrodite… A night of love, passion, revelry and baptism...

I shouldn’t be surprised… that one of my favorite bands are playing the same night.

I shouldn’t be surprised… that the singer of the band tells me that she thinks of my husband often, even though she only met him twice, and we speak in depth of love and death.

I shouldn’t be surprised.... that a total stranger asks me to talk about sexuality and the nature of unconditional love as I’m sipping strawberry beer.

I shouldn’t be surprised… that being the only person dancing on the dance floor is still worth it.

I shouldn’t be surprised… that another stranger tells me my dancing made the night even better for him.

I shouldn’t be surprised… that the band ends up playing 2 ½ sets because the other two bands cancel at the last minute.

I shouldn’t be surprised… that the night smells like rain and nostalgia.

I shouldn’t be surprised… that my mom remembered to buy me strawberries so I could make something special for a feast.

I shouldn’t be surprised… that wine and cider make a lovely combination.

I shouldn’t be surprised… that hot baths still make my heart pound.

I shouldn’t be surprised… that I have tears left to cry, though they are not happy or sad, but something else.

I shouldn’t be surprised… that the three red candles on the altar haven’t burnt out yet.


I shouldn’t be surprised… that I can still be surprised at all.  But I hope I never stop.