Tuesday, December 29, 2015

"The Journey"

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.

// Mary Oliver

For this weather, wellybeans

Say to the sea,
Thus far shall you come, and no farther,
And here shall your proud waves be stayed.

No more. No farther.
(Not swallowed in the sea.)

Who shut in the sea when it burst out...
and prescribed limits for it and set bars and doors?

Daimotsu kaijō no tsuki (LOC)

Say to the sea,
Enough. You have swirled away enough.

Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?

Monday, December 28, 2015


there is no paralysis that You can't forgive away.

Saturday, December 26, 2015

You will love me til the very end

i've seen the world, done it all, had my cake now
diamonds, brilliant, in Bel-Air now
hot summer nights, mid-July, when you and i were forever wild
hot summer days, rock and roll the way you play for me at your show
and all the ways, I got to know Your pretty face and electric soul
the crazy days, city lights, the way you'd play with me like a child

will you still love me when i'm no longer young and beautiful?
will you still love me when i've got nothing but my aching soul?

Father tell me if you can
all that grace, all that body
all that face, makes me wanna party
he's my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds

Monday, December 7, 2015

Anchoring Associations

(just jotting)

When you must dissociate to just survive
the molten chaos you normalize

Muscle through
Teeth grit grind

The bridge over molten chaos seems to require a bit of dissociation to cross.

Because of guh, I've never been friendless in the world. An anchor in reality - or at least the reality that the two of you inhabit together. Validation, perspective check. A compassionate witness that admits your feelings. They were present, engaged, kept their eyes and hearts open.

It helps to have friends who can feel/bear the outrage and heartbreak on your behalf - when you kinda have to swallow or at least normalize it just to get through it and still function.

Someone needs to grieve and recognize the injustice while you're muscling through. You can't afford to feel it all, the abyssal.

I don't want to repress anything.
Loosening grip?

Even when I can talk about what I'm dealing with, SHS says I'm usually pretty disconnected or intellectual about it. Can't afford to feel it all - dissociating a little bit seems necessary for survival. but the sympathy on someone else's face is hugely reorienting. especially in the effort to stay human and not go calloused, I guess.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall of witnesses.

Thursday, December 3, 2015

The Heavy Bear Who Goes with Me

"the withness of the body"

The heavy bear who goes with me
A manifold honey to smear his face,
Clumsy and lumbering here and there, 
The central ton of every place,
The hungry beating brutish one
In love with candy, anger, and sleep,
Crazy factotum, dishevelling all,
Climbs the building, kicks the football,
Boxes his brother in the hate-ridden city. 
Breathing at my side, that heavy animal,
That heavy bear who sleeps with me,
Howls in his sleep for a world of sugar,
A sweetness intimate as the water's clasp,
Howls in his sleep because the tight-rope
Trembles and shows the darkness beneath.
––The strutting show-off is terrified,
Dressed in his dress-suit, bulging his pants,
Trembles to think that his quivering meat
Must finally wince to nothing at all. 
The inescapable animal walks with me,
Has followed me since the black womb held,
Moves where I move, distorting my gesture,
A caricature, a swollen shadow,
A stupid clown of the spirit's motive,
Perplexes and affronts with his own darkness,
The secret life of belly and bone,
Opaque, too near, my private, yet unknown,
Stretches to embrace the very dear
With whom I would walk without him near,
Touches her grossly, although a word
Would bare my heart and make me clear,
Stumbles, flounders, and strives to be fed
Dragging me with him in his mouthing care,
Amid the hundred million of his kind,
The scrimmage of appetite everywhere.

// Delmore Schwartz, 1938