The more I learn about the malevolent forces in our universe - the conflicts, cultural misunderstandings, corporate greed, corrupt governments, preventable diseases, force-fed democracy, unsustainability, and rampant poverty - the more deeply I am moved to stand for something. To fight for something honorable with my life.
The more I learn about what is damaging, the more I want to create what is beautiful. I wonder why celebrities become more news-worthy than wars or things that matter, hoping to train myself to subscribe to higher thoughts and deeper things someday. When I look around my beautiful apartment, with rarely-worn clothes hanging in the closet, the only word that comes to mind is 'excess'.
Nights like tonight I find myself wanting to trash the excess, throw away anything with a brand name, give away what is useful, and buy a car that runs on trash. Nights like tonight I wonder at the world and all the bitter mixed with the sweet, and I realize that I am just as much part of the problem as anybody else.
I hope I spend my days learning to become part of a solution instead.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
on september the eighth
Growing up and growing older is funny.
Sometimes it hits me that I am on my own now, that it's been several years since high school, that I am way past the date I always had set in my mind that my life would make sense, or that I would have it all figured out. I think when I was little I always assumed that this age was around 16 or 18. Now, about a month away from 23, all I can do is chuckle knowing that in ten years I will still be growing and smiling at what I thought I knew and understood now.
I don't like moving.
That's not entirely true, because there is something beautiful and mysterious and new about leaving behind the familiar to embrace what is uncomfortable. It changes you. Most of my family and friends know that if anyone is prone to randomly decide to move to a new place on a moment's notice, it is probably me. So, maybe it's not the moving that bothers me. No, it's the packing. It's the memories that flood your senses as you pick up a picture frame or wrap up your history in cardboard and tape.
I chatted with my beautiful mom today for awhile as she packs away our belongings and gets ready to put our house up for sale; the place I have thought of as home for the last seven or eight years. While procrastinating on my homework I wondered at this mystery of life and love and moving on to new things. It's hard sometimes to set those old things on the sidewalk and walk away, and even harder not to look back and wonder if it was okay to just leave them there.
I had time today, for the first time in a few weeks, to just spend some time with myself. To just hang out, me and myself, listen to some beautiful acoustic melodies, play some of my own songs, and dwell on what is good and true in my life. I forget to take these moments for myself often, especially with school, work, my social life, and trying to cram in study sessions at all hours of the night.
It's times like these, when everything is changing and racing forward, that I realize how blessed I am to have those places I have called home. Within four walls can rest more memories than the ocean could hold, and I remember my sister Brittany and I sleeping under the glow of the Christmas tree to try to catch Santa (we were 18). I remember hard nights and tears shed, writing on the walls in our basement, relationships ending, campfires in the backyard, the conversations that changed me on the front porch. I remember my exhaustion and relief when I finally stumbled into the living room after my misadventures this summer to a room that I recognized and faces I love.
Sometimes I get lost in the moment, I freak out about the drama queens (and a couple kings) that dislike me for whatever reason, I worry about finances, or I dwell on things that don't matter. Days like today come along, when I can stand on my porch and watch the clouds changing colors, feel the cool breeze in my face, sip my coffee and feel autumn crashing in around me... and I realize that it's all okay. That I have the brains to ignore the superficial, the gift to write music, friends that are constantly coming into my life to bless me, and ramen in my cupboard to eat.
And I realize that I don't have to know it all. I don't have to have all the answers. I don't have to change the whole world, I just have to keeping working on myself. And home will follow me wherever I go, whether I'm moving or staying still.
Sometimes it hits me that I am on my own now, that it's been several years since high school, that I am way past the date I always had set in my mind that my life would make sense, or that I would have it all figured out. I think when I was little I always assumed that this age was around 16 or 18. Now, about a month away from 23, all I can do is chuckle knowing that in ten years I will still be growing and smiling at what I thought I knew and understood now.
I don't like moving.
That's not entirely true, because there is something beautiful and mysterious and new about leaving behind the familiar to embrace what is uncomfortable. It changes you. Most of my family and friends know that if anyone is prone to randomly decide to move to a new place on a moment's notice, it is probably me. So, maybe it's not the moving that bothers me. No, it's the packing. It's the memories that flood your senses as you pick up a picture frame or wrap up your history in cardboard and tape.
I chatted with my beautiful mom today for awhile as she packs away our belongings and gets ready to put our house up for sale; the place I have thought of as home for the last seven or eight years. While procrastinating on my homework I wondered at this mystery of life and love and moving on to new things. It's hard sometimes to set those old things on the sidewalk and walk away, and even harder not to look back and wonder if it was okay to just leave them there.
I had time today, for the first time in a few weeks, to just spend some time with myself. To just hang out, me and myself, listen to some beautiful acoustic melodies, play some of my own songs, and dwell on what is good and true in my life. I forget to take these moments for myself often, especially with school, work, my social life, and trying to cram in study sessions at all hours of the night.
It's times like these, when everything is changing and racing forward, that I realize how blessed I am to have those places I have called home. Within four walls can rest more memories than the ocean could hold, and I remember my sister Brittany and I sleeping under the glow of the Christmas tree to try to catch Santa (we were 18). I remember hard nights and tears shed, writing on the walls in our basement, relationships ending, campfires in the backyard, the conversations that changed me on the front porch. I remember my exhaustion and relief when I finally stumbled into the living room after my misadventures this summer to a room that I recognized and faces I love.
Sometimes I get lost in the moment, I freak out about the drama queens (and a couple kings) that dislike me for whatever reason, I worry about finances, or I dwell on things that don't matter. Days like today come along, when I can stand on my porch and watch the clouds changing colors, feel the cool breeze in my face, sip my coffee and feel autumn crashing in around me... and I realize that it's all okay. That I have the brains to ignore the superficial, the gift to write music, friends that are constantly coming into my life to bless me, and ramen in my cupboard to eat.
And I realize that I don't have to know it all. I don't have to have all the answers. I don't have to change the whole world, I just have to keeping working on myself. And home will follow me wherever I go, whether I'm moving or staying still.
Monday, August 3, 2009
on missing you
Dear Open Road,
I miss you. I crave you like I crave coffee in the morning. In fact, I may crave you infinately more than that.
I think of you and I smile, as if you were a lover that I had and lost. I miss your beauty and the faces you would bring to my life. I miss traveling without an agenda and every day something and someplace new. I miss feeling like my life was a love affair with myself, finding and discovering a new layers every day... like I was an onion. Or something else with layers. I miss having no money and feeling more rich and full then I have in my life.
I think you are more important than school, and than settling down in Moscow, or than living what most people would call a life of normalcy. I think I could fall asleep on the streets of this world and be happier than anyone with a fancy car and 9 to 5 job. I think people that judge me for thinking that just don't understand and haven't met you yet. They should meet you. I think you would get along with them great. Well, not all of them... it takes a mindset I suppose.
I am planning to see you again, just so you know.
As soon as I can line up my ducks in a semi-straight row, pay off some of my urgent debt, get my license back, and convince my family that I'm not crazy (well, I wouldn't hold my breath for that one), I am setting out to find you. I will sell all my belongings that just end up owning me, I will say goodbye to the friends I love, I will quit my meaningless job, I will declare myself a nomad and kiss your sweet face.
I look around my apartment at everything I own, and I don't want it anymore. An unpacked backpack lingers in the corner of my room and all I want to do is throw it on and go out to meet the world. But I will wait a few months. I will pay my bills. I will be responsible about this whole nomadic thing. Get ready, though.
Because I have one life. One. I have one shot, and that's it. I want to know that if I died tomorrow, I lived for what was most important. Not some stupid materialistic dream, not the accumulation of worldly stuff, not a piece of paper that tells me I can make it on my own. Not those things.
I can't wait to see you again, and I will miss you every moment til I get there.
-Day
I miss you. I crave you like I crave coffee in the morning. In fact, I may crave you infinately more than that.
I think of you and I smile, as if you were a lover that I had and lost. I miss your beauty and the faces you would bring to my life. I miss traveling without an agenda and every day something and someplace new. I miss feeling like my life was a love affair with myself, finding and discovering a new layers every day... like I was an onion. Or something else with layers. I miss having no money and feeling more rich and full then I have in my life.
I think you are more important than school, and than settling down in Moscow, or than living what most people would call a life of normalcy. I think I could fall asleep on the streets of this world and be happier than anyone with a fancy car and 9 to 5 job. I think people that judge me for thinking that just don't understand and haven't met you yet. They should meet you. I think you would get along with them great. Well, not all of them... it takes a mindset I suppose.
I am planning to see you again, just so you know.
As soon as I can line up my ducks in a semi-straight row, pay off some of my urgent debt, get my license back, and convince my family that I'm not crazy (well, I wouldn't hold my breath for that one), I am setting out to find you. I will sell all my belongings that just end up owning me, I will say goodbye to the friends I love, I will quit my meaningless job, I will declare myself a nomad and kiss your sweet face.
I look around my apartment at everything I own, and I don't want it anymore. An unpacked backpack lingers in the corner of my room and all I want to do is throw it on and go out to meet the world. But I will wait a few months. I will pay my bills. I will be responsible about this whole nomadic thing. Get ready, though.
Because I have one life. One. I have one shot, and that's it. I want to know that if I died tomorrow, I lived for what was most important. Not some stupid materialistic dream, not the accumulation of worldly stuff, not a piece of paper that tells me I can make it on my own. Not those things.
I can't wait to see you again, and I will miss you every moment til I get there.
-Day
Thursday, July 16, 2009
on love and the end of the open road
My eyes are getting heavy.
It is 3:26, and not in the afternoon, and it seems as though all my waking thoughts and dreams are of travel and what I have learned and am learning. I have been sedentary for only five days, and the open road is already teasing me with sunsets and mile marker signs glowing brightly in my mind.
I have loved this last month. It has moved me and made me dance, and sometimes it has made me question everything. Not just question everything. But Everything, with a capital ‘E.’ In fact, just for dramatic emphasis, you can capitalize the rest of the word as well. EVERYTHING. Because I feel that the weight of this statement is still vastly misunderstood, I will also ask that you add an exclamation point at the end. EVERYTHING!
It becomes easy to question everything (capitalized-with-an-added-exclamation) when you begin to realize that really you know nothing. Despite our best efforts; despite how full of fervor some of our conversations or debates have been; despite how we often feel that our way of living is the way it should be… we don’t know everything, and we haven’t even scratched the surface. You think you have been open-minded? Yeah, I did too.
No matter how often we volunteer our time or money, regardless of how we may be studying to make a difference in this world, despite how we avoid Starbucks to make sure farmers get a Fair Trade price for what they grow, and even though we insist that we are NOT the center of the universe…. we still struggle with looking beyond ourselves and just LOVING. No agenda, no conditions, just love.
I write this now as if I have learned the secret to life, but the truth actually lies in some split-second a week from now when I will be the one honking at the car in front of me for not moving the instant that red turns to green. It becomes evident in the way that we judge strangers instead of hugging them, assuming that what the world sees as beauty, is in fact beauty. It is in every day, when we forget that other people exist and need us to notice that they exist. In the midst of trying to find love, we forget that others are looking as well.
In everything that I have been questioning, this has turned into my new mission in life.
I don’t give a damn whether I have a degree, pay all my bills, am dating anyone, travel the world over… if I have not loved and lived well, none of it will matter in the long run. So for the first time in a very long time, my mission is only to love. Wherever I’m living, whatever I’m doing… Love.
I have no doubt that I will spend a long time figuring out exactly what that means.
And that’s okay.
It is 3:26, and not in the afternoon, and it seems as though all my waking thoughts and dreams are of travel and what I have learned and am learning. I have been sedentary for only five days, and the open road is already teasing me with sunsets and mile marker signs glowing brightly in my mind.
I have loved this last month. It has moved me and made me dance, and sometimes it has made me question everything. Not just question everything. But Everything, with a capital ‘E.’ In fact, just for dramatic emphasis, you can capitalize the rest of the word as well. EVERYTHING. Because I feel that the weight of this statement is still vastly misunderstood, I will also ask that you add an exclamation point at the end. EVERYTHING!
It becomes easy to question everything (capitalized-with-an-added-exclamation) when you begin to realize that really you know nothing. Despite our best efforts; despite how full of fervor some of our conversations or debates have been; despite how we often feel that our way of living is the way it should be… we don’t know everything, and we haven’t even scratched the surface. You think you have been open-minded? Yeah, I did too.
No matter how often we volunteer our time or money, regardless of how we may be studying to make a difference in this world, despite how we avoid Starbucks to make sure farmers get a Fair Trade price for what they grow, and even though we insist that we are NOT the center of the universe…. we still struggle with looking beyond ourselves and just LOVING. No agenda, no conditions, just love.
I write this now as if I have learned the secret to life, but the truth actually lies in some split-second a week from now when I will be the one honking at the car in front of me for not moving the instant that red turns to green. It becomes evident in the way that we judge strangers instead of hugging them, assuming that what the world sees as beauty, is in fact beauty. It is in every day, when we forget that other people exist and need us to notice that they exist. In the midst of trying to find love, we forget that others are looking as well.
In everything that I have been questioning, this has turned into my new mission in life.
I don’t give a damn whether I have a degree, pay all my bills, am dating anyone, travel the world over… if I have not loved and lived well, none of it will matter in the long run. So for the first time in a very long time, my mission is only to love. Wherever I’m living, whatever I’m doing… Love.
I have no doubt that I will spend a long time figuring out exactly what that means.
And that’s okay.
on the open road part IV
It has been a month now since I set out on the road. 35 days, to be exact.
It all started at a local CouchSurfing barbecue, when my new CS friend Josh and I decided we needed to pack our bags and set out. All we knew is that we wanted to utilize CouchSurfing to meet as many amazing people as possible in as many places as we could afford, and that we needed to attend Tentsurf 2009 in Colorado. I have to say, quite honestly, that my life was changed.
I had some expectations, not a whole lot of money, no idea what awaited, and just carried the hope that this trip would be everything I wanted it to be. Now that I am sitting peacefully in my parent’s living room here in Seattle - the day after leaving the open road - I finally have the chance to piece together all that this month has meant to me.
There was camping at Tentsurf 2009 with a few hundred other surfers from around the world, where I was blessed enough to get to know at least a dozen people very well, and dozens more by their face and their smile. Within that event was a community like I had never seen… the sharing of food, water, and life stories. It was like nothing and everything belonged to me at the same time. There were community breakfasts with more than twenty people, conversations that changed me, and friends that I have no doubt will be in my life for years to come. There were drum circles around an open fire, thanks to Coyote Dave and his open heart and willingness to share the instruments that he makes. There was a wedding between two surfers, Anthony and Niven, and we were blessed enough to participate in it as friends and campers. There was a conversation between Houston’s CS City Ambassador Taryn and I that lasted hours on end, comparing and contrasting the roads of our lives and where we came from. Most of all, and most moving, there was deep and unconditional love, fueled by our spirit of surfing and our passion for our global community.
I spent the next three weeks visiting new hosts, and meeting up again with those I had come to know at the CS campout in Colorado. From having dinner at the monthly Salt Lake City meetup, to laughing on the front porch in Portland with Ben and Holly, to live music on the beach with my host Kasondra in Santa Cruz, to a barbecue with our host Rose Marie in Montana, to watching live jazz in the park and pub crawling with the local Denver group, it was entirely a CS trip.
What I walked away with, most of all, was a more important understanding of what CouchSurfing really is… the opportunity to know others and have others know you. The real you. The chance to learn to be and fall in love with who you are, unapologetically, and encounter others who love the person you are as well.
I have only been CouchSurfing since January, but I can safely say that I am a surfer for life. I can only hope that I get the chance to host - even more than I already have! - in my humble abode in Idaho! Forget the free place to crash… I have made friends for life on this trip.
And the world is welcome on my doorstep any time.
It all started at a local CouchSurfing barbecue, when my new CS friend Josh and I decided we needed to pack our bags and set out. All we knew is that we wanted to utilize CouchSurfing to meet as many amazing people as possible in as many places as we could afford, and that we needed to attend Tentsurf 2009 in Colorado. I have to say, quite honestly, that my life was changed.
I had some expectations, not a whole lot of money, no idea what awaited, and just carried the hope that this trip would be everything I wanted it to be. Now that I am sitting peacefully in my parent’s living room here in Seattle - the day after leaving the open road - I finally have the chance to piece together all that this month has meant to me.
There was camping at Tentsurf 2009 with a few hundred other surfers from around the world, where I was blessed enough to get to know at least a dozen people very well, and dozens more by their face and their smile. Within that event was a community like I had never seen… the sharing of food, water, and life stories. It was like nothing and everything belonged to me at the same time. There were community breakfasts with more than twenty people, conversations that changed me, and friends that I have no doubt will be in my life for years to come. There were drum circles around an open fire, thanks to Coyote Dave and his open heart and willingness to share the instruments that he makes. There was a wedding between two surfers, Anthony and Niven, and we were blessed enough to participate in it as friends and campers. There was a conversation between Houston’s CS City Ambassador Taryn and I that lasted hours on end, comparing and contrasting the roads of our lives and where we came from. Most of all, and most moving, there was deep and unconditional love, fueled by our spirit of surfing and our passion for our global community.
I spent the next three weeks visiting new hosts, and meeting up again with those I had come to know at the CS campout in Colorado. From having dinner at the monthly Salt Lake City meetup, to laughing on the front porch in Portland with Ben and Holly, to live music on the beach with my host Kasondra in Santa Cruz, to a barbecue with our host Rose Marie in Montana, to watching live jazz in the park and pub crawling with the local Denver group, it was entirely a CS trip.
What I walked away with, most of all, was a more important understanding of what CouchSurfing really is… the opportunity to know others and have others know you. The real you. The chance to learn to be and fall in love with who you are, unapologetically, and encounter others who love the person you are as well.
I have only been CouchSurfing since January, but I can safely say that I am a surfer for life. I can only hope that I get the chance to host - even more than I already have! - in my humble abode in Idaho! Forget the free place to crash… I have made friends for life on this trip.
And the world is welcome on my doorstep any time.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
on the open road part III (or on sleeping on the couches of strangers)
I just walked back inside through the screen door of this brilliantly-Californian evening. I took a stroll down a lane lined with palm trees, took off my sunglasses and let the sun hit my face. I stepped foward. I gave myself a moment to inhale slowly, to look around, and fully realize how beautiful I have allowed my life become.
It is beautiful, isn't it?
The last few weeks have been a montage of amazing memories that all seem to flow into one lovely chapter of my life... a chapter I have no desire to put a conclusion to. So I won't. It can only continue. People dream of travel and far-off places, of Italy, Brasil, Morocco... and being one of those dreamers myself, I can understand. But I'm starting to realize the depth and beauty of what is not so far-off in the first place. Who knew so many amazing people were within this half of the U.S.? And ones that wanted to meet me? And that I want to meet too? Who knew I would feel like such a dramatically different and free woman after only three or four weeks on the road? Who knew that I would find friends and relationships that would change me, would challenge me, would move me and that would provide for me when life on the road got rough?
The deeper I delve into CouchSurfing, the more I find how much of a family we are, how connected we all are. The reason? Most people aren't okay with that type of openness, that type of trust and adventure. Most people get uncomfortable with newness or with accepting how safe something like this could be if you use it with caution and correctly. As a result? Most people on CouchSurfing are some of the most amazing and experienced that you will ever meet. All the ones that wouldn't fit are weeded out by default. Which is not to say there isn't diversity within the community. I have met mothers, fathers, elderly, the newly-graduated, the homeless, the rich, the well-travelled, the well-read, the uneducated, the wise... the list goes on. I have met atheists,Protestants, liberals, conservatives, introverts and extroverts. I have partied hearty with hosts and I have just as happily rested in silence.
The point is that I am learning to be me, to be Dayna. To embracing this adventure without plans, without much money, without an agenda of where to go or see things... and it is completely changing me. To being okay with things and knowing it will work out when your ride takes off, or you're stuck in San Francisco, or you run out of money in Santa Cruz. To shedding things that I don't need and that don't define me. Who needs materialism and cute clothes that were made in Indonesia by sweatshop kids anyway? Who needs to spend an hour getting ready to know they are beautiful? (Not to say that I don't love cute clothes or going out and looking nice, but I am just realizing I can survive without it WAY more easily than I thought possible.) I am finding freedom in letting go, in realizing how little I need to get by, how easy it is to give away or recycle clothes that just make your backpack heavier along the way anyway, and might make somebody's day. You never know til you try.
What I'm learning most, even if you can't tell from this post, is that I know nothing. I know nothing! I thought I knew a lot. But I know what I know, which is so little. I thought I needed to travel the world to feel this content (not that I still don't want to, I'm stoked to be abroad again). I thought I needed to go to far-off lands to satisfy my thirst for travel and new faces. But let's hop back to one thing I said earlier: "fully realize how beautiful I have ALLOWED my life to become."
Allowed. It is up to me, and has always been up to me. It's always been up to me to wake up in the morning and say "this may just be the best day of my life, so I'm going to make sure I do my best to let that happen." Doesn't always work. But it almost always makes me grin in knowing it's quite possible, and if I try to MAKE it possible, it's way more likely to happen. If there is rain, dance in it. If there is a headache, curse at it but know it will go away soon. If there is sunshine, take a walk in it. If there is lightning, check out how crazy beautiful it is (then run away). Take Today and breathe in it, spit on it, swim in it, fall in love with it... just be there.
Be present in your own life. Be THE factor that decides if your day is going to be wonderful and good. That's not to say hard days won't come, or times won't get rough. But if there is one thing I was meant to learn - and have learned - on this trip, it is that.
Feeling very accomplished with this novel, I am signing out. Presently. Ha.
It is beautiful, isn't it?
The last few weeks have been a montage of amazing memories that all seem to flow into one lovely chapter of my life... a chapter I have no desire to put a conclusion to. So I won't. It can only continue. People dream of travel and far-off places, of Italy, Brasil, Morocco... and being one of those dreamers myself, I can understand. But I'm starting to realize the depth and beauty of what is not so far-off in the first place. Who knew so many amazing people were within this half of the U.S.? And ones that wanted to meet me? And that I want to meet too? Who knew I would feel like such a dramatically different and free woman after only three or four weeks on the road? Who knew that I would find friends and relationships that would change me, would challenge me, would move me and that would provide for me when life on the road got rough?
The deeper I delve into CouchSurfing, the more I find how much of a family we are, how connected we all are. The reason? Most people aren't okay with that type of openness, that type of trust and adventure. Most people get uncomfortable with newness or with accepting how safe something like this could be if you use it with caution and correctly. As a result? Most people on CouchSurfing are some of the most amazing and experienced that you will ever meet. All the ones that wouldn't fit are weeded out by default. Which is not to say there isn't diversity within the community. I have met mothers, fathers, elderly, the newly-graduated, the homeless, the rich, the well-travelled, the well-read, the uneducated, the wise... the list goes on. I have met atheists,Protestants, liberals, conservatives, introverts and extroverts. I have partied hearty with hosts and I have just as happily rested in silence.
The point is that I am learning to be me, to be Dayna. To embracing this adventure without plans, without much money, without an agenda of where to go or see things... and it is completely changing me. To being okay with things and knowing it will work out when your ride takes off, or you're stuck in San Francisco, or you run out of money in Santa Cruz. To shedding things that I don't need and that don't define me. Who needs materialism and cute clothes that were made in Indonesia by sweatshop kids anyway? Who needs to spend an hour getting ready to know they are beautiful? (Not to say that I don't love cute clothes or going out and looking nice, but I am just realizing I can survive without it WAY more easily than I thought possible.) I am finding freedom in letting go, in realizing how little I need to get by, how easy it is to give away or recycle clothes that just make your backpack heavier along the way anyway, and might make somebody's day. You never know til you try.
What I'm learning most, even if you can't tell from this post, is that I know nothing. I know nothing! I thought I knew a lot. But I know what I know, which is so little. I thought I needed to travel the world to feel this content (not that I still don't want to, I'm stoked to be abroad again). I thought I needed to go to far-off lands to satisfy my thirst for travel and new faces. But let's hop back to one thing I said earlier: "fully realize how beautiful I have ALLOWED my life to become."
Allowed. It is up to me, and has always been up to me. It's always been up to me to wake up in the morning and say "this may just be the best day of my life, so I'm going to make sure I do my best to let that happen." Doesn't always work. But it almost always makes me grin in knowing it's quite possible, and if I try to MAKE it possible, it's way more likely to happen. If there is rain, dance in it. If there is a headache, curse at it but know it will go away soon. If there is sunshine, take a walk in it. If there is lightning, check out how crazy beautiful it is (then run away). Take Today and breathe in it, spit on it, swim in it, fall in love with it... just be there.
Be present in your own life. Be THE factor that decides if your day is going to be wonderful and good. That's not to say hard days won't come, or times won't get rough. But if there is one thing I was meant to learn - and have learned - on this trip, it is that.
Feeling very accomplished with this novel, I am signing out. Presently. Ha.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
on kurt and saying goodbye
You are deeper than the sea.
More complex, more God damn difficult,
more full of mystery and more profound
than words could ever know.
I like it that way. I do.
You drive with your eyes unfocused
until I steal a smile
when you catch me staring.
Your tattoo peeks at me from under your sleeve,
your arm tanned from our day on the beach
and the drive from Reno.
I like to look at you when you are serious
when I know you are thinking
-and likely worrying-
about money or your next pack of cigarettes
or where we will sleep tonight.
You are one of the few, you know.
One of the few that is real and true,
one who doesn’t waste words like so many people do.
You pick and choose, you don’t fill empty space with empty ideas,
and you aren’t afraid or intimidated by Silence.
Your New York accent draws a smile in the morning,
and I twirl your hair in my fingers and repeat after you.
It’s not coffee. It’s caw-fee.
You wince.
I’ll be missing you, but I think you know that.
I will miss your eyes, and the way they shine green
like emeralds.
Or something green like that.
I will miss looking left from the passenger side
and tracing your profile with mountains as backdrops
and open roads ahead.
But this is life, and life is an open road in itself.
Open roads are what connected us to begin with,
winding their way through our claustrophobic souls
until we screamed out loud to be nomads,
to live nowhere and everywhere;
to dumpster diving in Santa Cruz
and dreaming of painting curbsides in black numbers.
You will always have the road, and the road
could always lead you back to me.
Regardless, it led you TO me.
It is what it is.
For that, and for you, I am thankful.
More complex, more God damn difficult,
more full of mystery and more profound
than words could ever know.
I like it that way. I do.
You drive with your eyes unfocused
until I steal a smile
when you catch me staring.
Your tattoo peeks at me from under your sleeve,
your arm tanned from our day on the beach
and the drive from Reno.
I like to look at you when you are serious
when I know you are thinking
-and likely worrying-
about money or your next pack of cigarettes
or where we will sleep tonight.
You are one of the few, you know.
One of the few that is real and true,
one who doesn’t waste words like so many people do.
You pick and choose, you don’t fill empty space with empty ideas,
and you aren’t afraid or intimidated by Silence.
Your New York accent draws a smile in the morning,
and I twirl your hair in my fingers and repeat after you.
It’s not coffee. It’s caw-fee.
You wince.
I’ll be missing you, but I think you know that.
I will miss your eyes, and the way they shine green
like emeralds.
Or something green like that.
I will miss looking left from the passenger side
and tracing your profile with mountains as backdrops
and open roads ahead.
But this is life, and life is an open road in itself.
Open roads are what connected us to begin with,
winding their way through our claustrophobic souls
until we screamed out loud to be nomads,
to live nowhere and everywhere;
to dumpster diving in Santa Cruz
and dreaming of painting curbsides in black numbers.
You will always have the road, and the road
could always lead you back to me.
Regardless, it led you TO me.
It is what it is.
For that, and for you, I am thankful.
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