Love and understand

Similar stories, in a sushi bistro...on a Tuesday night. Your tattoos tell more about you than you will ever understand. I come from a point of view...obscere....sereine in its extremity. Something I cant understand. Another type of experience. I cannot let myself succumb to you although some parts of me want to all on their own...but you end it yourself....out of guilt you shouldn't have and places you would've been hours ago. You cling to me, and I stutter back, something about my energy....but that's not you. I can see all of this from afar. Letting you in was purely out of boredom. My lack of a Petra dish...led to the containment in a jar. Where will our night take us...people seem to forget the pure potency of a single night. The monetary value of a 16 hour period spent with the most random of character's on a roof in a city. Somewhere...could be anywhere. This scene will play itself out to you. The inspiration is what you come for...maybe you feel it. Maybe you are aware...or maybe you just find yourself there..either way can you argue.You both end up in the same spot. Is there then something to our futures? Not really. Actually ours ends more abruptly than you expected. The morning brings the sun, the realization that I have somewhere to run. The overextended feel of your spirit belongs to no one but you. I don't blame you and I cant judge you, we are all beautiful as we rise to face the world each day. Finding love is all encompassing...dealing with your drama and ignorance each night is trivial and localized. A problem you quickly mask disguise and don't patronize. Some days, I find myself surrounded, others at the north pole. There are things to understand about everyone. The simplest of ticks are the most important, the little things are what sail ships and leave the empty vast.

Green Trees and ten foot giants...

After my teachings in Dharma, I walked on a cloud home...the whole three blocks. My phone which I had left on the bedside table was jumping of course. Missed texts and missed calls all within minutes of my entering the house. How exhausting this little black box is, always ringing at the wrong moment and documenting the texts and messages as it goes.

I am being summoned to the mountain for work it seems....so much for my cloud floating and general state of well-being. Time for work and lots of it, but with a grey heart and a recent peak surge of positive energy I decided to run with it. To the forest, the top of a mountain. To the house of a "friend" we shall call him who in this day and age is in the business of providing greenery to the masses at top notch prices.

California is a strange place, in the midst of what we call the "green gold rush" which is clever terminology for the planting, harvesting and selling of weed. There's alot that goes into that process actually and a whole industry of people working behind the scenes to get that nugget to your pipe so you can smoke it. I am one of the workers behind the scenes. I am a miner in the gold rush...or if you like a farmer on the land.
My job description varies from month to month and week to week. One day I may show up and do nothing but trim the cola buds until my eyes are crossed and my neck is crimped. The next week I may be sent out into the farm land to gather supplies,dig holes or run trash to the dump. Sometimes the sun is shining and the wind is hot and others the rain is pelting down and you cant feel your fingers inside your gardening gloves.
One consistent is the dirt. There is always dirt to be collected...on your person, in your shoes, hair and any other place exposed to the outside. Between the trim dust and the resign sticky blobs regular farm dirt collects. The water is rusty so showering never quite fixes the issue.
There are numerous people on the farm at all times, for security and also because there are numerous jobs to be done immediately at all times. Ever wonder why farmers have ten kids... because there are ten jobs to do that's why. This is no different, sometimes you get along with people and new friends are made. Other times the scene is strange and silences ensue, the general understanding is get your work done and talk later.

I drink matte I smoke pot and I work my ass off and that is my relationship with this farm. A place high in the mountains, far from my daily city life beneath the trees and immersed in silence. Headed by hippies, and passed through the years down on to me.

It was strange at first...I didn't really understand what was going on. My friend was sleeping with the owner of the farm and we were there. Little workers toiling endlessly in the rain and mud. Hauling and scraping and cleaning busting our asses and paying our dues. As time marched on we did too...in between our trips to Thailand,Peru,India and Philippines. I made pilgrimages up the mountain to work and save money for traveling. I sweated in the sun and dug holes in the green house. I pulled weeds and constructed beds for organic produce in the yard. We chased chickens and wrangled dogs. Fought with the neighbors about property lines and through it all harvested and planted and harvested some more.

Now I arrive and sit at the table, I smile and laugh and I find myself with more dignified duties around the farm if there is such a thing. I have friends and Ive seen everyone's "babies" (babies are little grows or plants) I know the layout and Ive heard the secrets. People have come and gone...and new ones continue to pop in and out of the old. Its a community and a family and I am a part. Every time I return I find myself with a lot of time to think. To make decisions about my life and to sit with those decisions for indefinite amounts of undisturbed time. I all to often push aside these thoughts and decisions due to my busy schedule and bustling city life. So In a way its like a little mini travel session to the outskirts of me.

Ive contemplated so many big decisions there on the property...it seems almost like a typical weekend at this point. Everything seems to come to a head and get resolved for me there. Money is being made of course at the bottom of everything I am there to work. The things that happen in between are what make it so interesting.

For example on my return trip this summer... having arrived conflicted about the prospect of leaving for Thailand again possibly without my so called boyfriend that has indeed caused much turmoil these last few months. On the verge of buying that airline ticket or staying safe in the USA behind my desk job miserable. Fresh from the Dharma lecture, and confused as all hell with myself.

I found myself face to face with a huge green house brimming with trees. Sticking out from every side were large tree sized plants. Stretching themselves into the sun, lurching into the harvest. The job at hand was overwhelming. The only way to really navigate this maze of trees was to crawl hand and knee bound through the underbrush. Sitting there on the ground in the middle of the forest stretching 12 to 15 ft high over our heads. My friend and I sat staring upward watching the rays of sun filtering down through the madness above. Our shirts and skin sticking to each leaf and bud as we crumpled up across from each other to talk.
There under the leaves we conversed as if by secret meeting of the minds. Like small children hiding in the barn or up in the tree house. Catching up since I had last been there...speaking about quitting my job and helping again full time. Our dreams of traveling and creating on the front burner. Staring at each other and trying to read the new wrinkles and folds our faces had acquired between our last meetings. "I would never leave you out in the world..my friend" she tells me "we would always bring you home. We need you too much here to leave you somewhere." she shakes her head and stares out over the ledge to our left. Her reassurances aside we still converse about my formulated plan of travel and the fact that I am going to be very much alone. I haven't faced this yet...in fact Ive been avoiding it. The world does not scare me here at the bottom of the forest however and it seems a hidden spot enough that maybe I can hide from my inner questions for quite a while here in the underbrush, twirling a leaf in my hand that has carelessly fallen to the ground. Things are simple...days are short and the time flys by far to fast. The people are smiling and the over all attitude is good.

There is a tiny cabin on the outskirts of the property and I stay there. No bathroom no TV and nothing really but a bed and a portable heater. There are large glass windows on all sides of the cabin so you sometimes feel like you are sleeping directly in the trees. I think alot in there.. and things get real. This weekend was no exception. I tossed and turned all night plagued by strange dreams and self doubt. Sitting up in bed and contemplating my sources of pain, this went on all night. Like an Indian sweat lodge gone wrong...cold and damp instead and alone. Thoughts racing through my mind, "what have I done with my life" "I'm almost thirty and I cant find a mate" "I'm leaving my house, my job, and my business to travel the world ALONE" "what will happen to me?" "am I going to be okay?" "Is this what I want" Is this a dream? who am I? What have I become....what should I do? Is this the right path? How do I know? I am alone now.....I am alone.
The words came pounding in...through the forest at break neck speeds. Infiltrating the walls and covers the glass and wood. Nesting deep within myself. I felt an overwhelming sense of fear, and I cried.
Alone and cold in a cabin on the ridge of a mountain somewhere in this world is a girl, a woman, crying in fear of the unknown. Trying to find an answer the courage and a friend to share it with. Never in my life have I had such and intense horrible introspective trip. All the psychedelic drugs combined all the late nights on cocaine in the mirror wishing my boobs were perkier or my jawline less defined paled in comparison to this night spent in the cabin with myself.

I passed out on myself, at the peak of my fearful episode. Somewhere in between the bouts of fear and self doubt a little voice came out of nowhere and placed a thought in my head. "Have no fear" and the lights went out. Like an invisible switch somewhere inside just flipped off or maxed out. Someone overseeing this whole ordeal must have tired of watching and decided to put me out of my misery. I woke the next morning feeling like I had been through a war. Almost expecting the cabin around me to be in shambles..as a result of the turmoil it harbored inside that night.

I stepped out into the morning light a bit confused but with no energy to fight or process fearful thoughts. I receded back into myself and just went about the day. I smiled and laughed and played the game at the farm. When Sunday came to an end and it was time to go home, I ended up in the car with my mother driving through the last light of the day. Over the orange bridge to my blue house in my little colored by number life. I sat down in my room exhausted and decided two things, one I would not attend my office job tomorrow. Secondly that instead I would buy my ticket and take a ride into the unknown...and live by the words that came in the night..."have no fear." something is out there for me...and its calling.

Sometimes the hardest thing to do is simply follow through with your desires. To grab onto what you want and take all the steps to getting there without second guessing your path. Sometimes the person you hate most is you standing there with a huge bag of reasons to not take the next step. The dragon sized doubt cloud surrounds you...and you spend the night fighting. Sometimes its those nights that make us just that much stronger for the journey.

Times they be a changing

"be a simple kind of man...wont you do this for me son if you can."


Things have started riling up for take off...I cant wait to be on a plane flying far away from all that has happened here in the last year. To clean the slate and get on with my life. The last year has been one long winding confusing road with all the pitfalls of vietcong jungle during the height of the war.

I cant wait till an ocean and half the world is between me and everything here. Unfortunately the thing Im running from is following me, bringing baggage and bullshit along with him. While I cannot change that he bought a ticket and has an agenda that no longer includes me. He still insists that " of course we will meet up" and as those words come out.. I find myself cringing in the corner. There is no love or romance for me there. Just empty words loaded with uncertainty.

How much eight months can change a person. Make you feel older, more confused or more certain. Less of one thing and more of another, all in contrast. Im glad I took the Dharma training classes I have taken during these eight months. Ive learned to passively over look people and their hurtful bullshit. Coming back to the I cannot hold onto things you love teachings and that my actions are all I have. Follow your heart and nothing else...you can do this baby...if you try.

I cant wait for the beach, the sand, and the heat. My heart will have to hide for the time being in my caved chest tattered and torn the fuck up. I really don't see stitches holding it together at this point. Maybe some staples and a blowtorch are in order.

Dharma on a sunday afternoon

Last week was a long one, riddled with quirks and undertows. Speckled with tears and long hours of sleep. I lost about seven pounds, my self respect, a bottle of wine and my will to live. In the end, I drug myself to work every day, I even entertained people and fooled them into thinking I was okay at some point.

Thursday I had a fashion show in which I was supposed to arrive, show my collection and appear well adjusted and network. Im horrible at networking, I always arrive focus on the collection and getting the models dressed and when it comes to the time when the networking is supposed to be happening, I lose interest. I know I supposed to puppet myself around the room posing for pics with all the models and handing out fake hellos and hugs like business cards...but for some reason I cant ever seem to make this stick. Instead I want to vomit violently.

This show was no exception. The people were vapid the room was too well lit, and the "vampires" were out in full force. I hadn't eaten in days at this point, four bananas and two apples was no exaggeration of my food intake total in the week up to that point. Needless to say I was not drinking...no one wants to watch me go from barely holding it together to crying mess on the floor in five seconds. I got to watch the whole show unfold completely sober and as if I was detached from my body. Floating around a shell person.

The dressing room or lack there of, was stank. Even from the beginning a hallway in front of the venues bathroom was never a good spot for dressing and fitting models. The stench of bathroom was in the air, combine with the 20 or so models all trying to scamper in and out of changes. Soon body odor and that strange vagina smell permeated the air. Sweat was trickling down our backs, foreheads and ankles. A beer was spilled and the whole area became a swamp, further adding to the cornucopia of smells and sights in the backstage area.

I watch the lights flash, as the models walk one after another. Stark blasting white light, flash after flash, cataloging this night, these people and the whole strange event. Posted later on every social networking sight for everyone to judge and mis judge and opinion form on.

The heat is making me dizzy, or maybe that was the lack of food? My broken heart poking at my insides? All of these combine? Who will ever know. I puppet myself up to the front of the room and plaster on the best "I'm totally awesome" smile I can muster. Smile for the cameras and escape from stage as soon as possible.
Back into the side rooms and back space to collect up my art and whats left of myself and make my escape from this hot cramped smelly area back into my life.

The night air is cool, and the smells are muted by a sea breeze blowing fog and damp out over the city. All I can think of is let the ocean wash me off, and take these empty insides with it. Would I even feel the cold sting of the sub zero ocean at this point? Would anyone even care, I feel so alone. Floating.

Friday goes and comes, Im still numb. Waiting to get home to sleep it off....wondering how much longer I will be here waiting and pacing in my own head. Unable to stir myself out of this. The phone does not ring, there is no sign of life from the outside world. The fog sets in and takes hold of my rotting brain and body. Time has stopped for me. I curl up in a ball and watch Hunter S Thompson on the TV screen and try to get excited. For some reason I always find myself reading, watching or otherwise listening to him in low times in my life. Its like a phenomenon I have no control over. Like the world is trying to show me there are people, out there just as depraved and strange... you cant be the only lone fucked up tiger in this box. Get weird and get outta here.

Saturday dawns, and a strange foreign thought pops into my head. Like a long lost message in a bottle. It floats to the shore of my mind, dusty and covered in sludge. A few weeks ago I had been in such a good place I wanted to seek out a more structured mediation practice for myself. I had already gone through the trouble of looking up the times and dates for introduction and had nothing left to do but arrive. Coincidentally Saturday morning at 830am was the time to arrive. I woke up at 730 with just enough time to pull it together and walk the two blocks to the Center.

I have no idea what to expect, I'm lost and alone and lets be honest on the verge of suicide at this point. I haven't eaten, I have slept to much, Ive been crying on my bathroom floor as an after work hobbie for the last four days. To say the least I was up for anything at this point that just wasn't any of those activities.

I wished I was back two weeks ago in happy health and clear mind. Wizzing from task to task happily singing love songs under my breathe, but I was where I was.. and I went.
The door was locked and the entrance was menacing. Red brick with opaque glass windows. Institution whitewashed wood and black rot iron handrails, I almost gave up and went home. When out of nowhere a surprisingly normal looking lady walked right past me and unlocked the door. "here for the meditation?" she asked. I was able to get the word "yes" some how over my suddenly parched lips. It sounded like I hadn't spoken in years.

Inside there was a table with the usual sign in book and flower arrangements. Stereotypical ZEN items placed in the corners. Buddah statue in the middle of the wall space. The greeter/door unlocker motioned for me to sit in the cozy window bench area, and then disappeared. As I sat people fluttered in, confused and disoriented. Or inquisitive and overbearing. Some in high priced yoga wear others in sweats. The room began to fill up. Two piping hot tea pots appeared in front of me with a perfectly lined row of cups.

I wandered into the outside courtyard as more people filled up the entry way. I watched in silence the goldfish in the fountain front and center of the courtyard. Marveled at the simple beauty of the water plants unaffected by me or anyone else. Bells were chiming from somewhere deep within this temple. Robed figures moved quietly down the halls and walkways. Somewhere pots and pans were being cleaned as every so often a bang or chang would break the peace and quiet.
Somewhere around this time a bald sprite of a woman in black robes made her way to the front entrance. I heard the commotion and moved back to the entry to listen. Apparently the introduction to meditation really didn't involve a whole lot of meditation at all.

Mostly we walked through the halls, learned that the bells we ring and why how to bring people to meditation and where to deposit your shoes before entering the meditation chamber. At the end we were led back upstairs for 10 minutes of meditation in the main room. Feet in lotus position, eyes open sitting, thoughtless and quiet. This is what I came for ....things settled.. and the energy wound around me and washed away all that confusion like a dry eraser on a white board. I stayed for a dharma lecture and kept the words in my heart for a month after. Let go of all the pain and thought I had been given the tools to move on. I wish my heart would listen and follow I wish it would stay in a center point and leave me alone with its fluttering.