A body in motion

Blog

  • WAITING

    Waiting

    for the girl to invite you to play

    for the boy to look at you

    For your parents to see you

    for the man to invite you into his circle 

    for the professor to select you as their favorite

    for something to take you to the place where it will all begin 

    for another man to see you

    for a better man to see you

    for your talents to be realized 

    For someone to recognize your dreams

    to make money 

    for a proposal

    for your real life 

    for him to show up because he says you are his favorite person 

    again, to be seen

    to start writing in your journal and to start writing your blog 

    to start writing your novel

    for the results 

    for the signal that you have made it to your real life 

    Waiting for life while meeting death

  • cinnamon rolls

    I wake up to the sound of my cat breathing loudly. How does she make that noise? Is that normal? No. No way is that a normal cat sound.  What a strange snorting bed hog, curled up contentedly and snuggling in the exact middle of the mattress. 

    I am craving a cinnamon roll. Ah, it was one of those nights. Once again I traveled the lit up highway of my brain to the smaller world that reflects inside my eyes.  I spend all night in the familiar place I visit while my body rests. This one is on the other side of my eyes and inside my cells. A smaller but equally cyclical world full of repetitive problems and sweet treats. 

    For some reason I have the belief  from others or movies or books that dreams are metaphors providing one with clues about what they should do next. As a child my mom had a dream book on the family bookshelf. It was like a mysterious dictionary where the words translated into ghost-like apparitions that pointed in a direction that seemed solid but then crumbled upon a good solid stare. In my memory many of the definitions insinuated that my dream had something to do with sex, which I did not understand. Are my nightly cinnamon rolls trying to tell me something?

    This dream book and countless friends and influences tell me that the mind is the all knowing wizard laying down artsy hints in the form of dreams for the dumb consciousness to follow. Or it’s like the super computer inside that is secretly optimized for happiness but is playing coy and holding back like an evil narrator. 

    At some point my mind started to serve me up a world complete with a sometimes haunted, sometimes perfect home and a city full of secret bakeries. It is as real of a place as this is and I have since spent countless nights on a break from my literal dream job looking for the most amazing underground bakery that my dream city has to offer. It is always the same, complete with a long line and a selection of yeasty treats waiting to be decided upon.

  • walking meditation

    You walk down the street and the cold air is all that you feel and the moon is all that you see. You look to the right and into an open window with a nice mid-century lamp and a fireplace in view. You become an orange glow.

    You float down to the next block and realize that this night walk is the only time you feel present all day. You took this walk in order to look for yourself. Until a few blocks in you have been surrounded by what you can only describe as a terrible sand storm shaped like your own head. You start to wonder if senses and feelings are the same thing. The cold on your face is an antidote to the hot heat of that earlier flash of anger and the moon a bright antidote to shrink the hopelessness you felt when brushing your teeth this morning. 

    It was only yesterday that you noticed the sandstorm that has been following you, getting stronger every day. You finally caught it in the mirror when you looked upside down and backwards. It is sneaky but you are learning. You wonder if this is what will kill you. You wonder if you should call your mom and ask her if she has one. If so, what the hell does she do to keep it from growing?

    Your storm is comfortable on most days but it clouds your vision from seeing anything new. Everything yesterday and the day before you already did. You thought it already and you took those steps already and thought those things about that person already and made that judgment already and forgot your dreams already,  just as always. 

    Your walk becomes longer and longer as you realize you can’t stop without risking death. You walk most of the night. Until your shoes rub your toes into blisters and the feeling of pain in your legs replaces the fear of stopping. You go home and get into bed and you do not wake up in the morning.