Building a Dream

The new year approaches. Of the prospect I'm grateful, for it offers much: travel, adventure, grown-up life. Marc embarks on a mission to serve the world, to give it a cup of something so good that the drinker need never eat or drink again. And I, I begin a journey of sorts.

In heaven I thought earth life would be immediate excitement, immediate mountain moving. I didn't like being a baby as I was way past ready to learn and do great things, way past ready to live a vision and become a Goddess. Or so I thought.

Every day--no, every breath--that I live unaligned with the great life I know I must live, I feel a deep sorrow surround and over take me. So to give heed to the counsel of everything holy inside, I focus on the vision and the vision emanates joy so bright and so gorgeous that to bask in it would mean heaven and to turn away from it, hell itself. An unauthentic life would mean no life at all.

So I'm building a dream that envelopes art and service, writing and public speaking, travel and leadership. I see foreign lands and white tents and construction projects and globes of the earth and many books. I see digging irrigation, smiling children, and bottles of water. I see hope and peace and working out problems and making communities better than they were found.

And a red suit.

I'm building a dream.

Playing with Winter

People I Greatly Admire

The past few months I've felt lost in a quiet bus. The world passes me in a soundless blurr and I cannot reach its flashing strokes, cannot touch its painted chaos.

In the bus I find no adventure. To stop it and join the busy, purposeful paradigm I glimpse but cannot touch would be ideal and is my only longing.

"It wasn't so much changing the world but becoming a part of it that drove my ambitions," says some unknown Kindred. How I wish to step into the sun that college vainly promised me--or that I had imagined it to promise me.

"Next year, next year.." the spirit whispers. I know I must be grateful. Grateful for a together family, for my beloved boy, for all my needs so close, convenient, easy.

But that's just the source of discontent. I crave a cause, a challenge, and a red suit.

"Patience, patience.." says he once more. All you have is all you need. Moreover, all you have is all you really want.

NO! I'd like a black jetta too. And I wish to, at the end of the day, find satisfaction in all my endeavors.

The bus will stop. Meanwhile, enjoy the ride I must, and the wondrous impression of speed.

THINGS hold beauty sometimes: the ebb of a teaspoon, the shape of a faucet, the sillouette of a baby bottle.

Ordinary life holds little glories.

I think the play of light on a tired wall can be enough to celebrate--or a multitude of bubbles in one's palm.

Life means lines. Shapes. Vibrating color. Imagine a logical world. What a horrible mess that would be! I hope to find love for the illogical, the wild, the dreadfully beautiful.

I have hairy arms and usually dirt edges my finger nails with subtle presence. And I'm glad. The unshaven leg holds some mystery and the blemish, some shamefully intriguing poison.

Bring on flaws, for Earth looks better with a crooked nose.