Memorial Day Weekend Extravaganza
Beach Weekend
Fist Let Us Go
In yoga today, my teacher was discussing impermanence—she was feeling blue about how all the snow would melt before she got to play in it. That got her thinking about how attached we all get to plans, ideas, activities, daily routine, our body’s performance, etc. And how showing up on your mat is the first step toward learning to let all those expectations go…because our body is where it is that day, and every day it’s different.
I am regularly slapped in the face with this very concept. And you know what? I like my plans. I look forward to them. I have matured enough, granted, to understand that fundamentally I am “OK” regardless of what comes through or not. But I am not Zen enough to be above outcomes. I want what I want. I want to win. But I want to work on this. I think I’ll spend my whole life on this particular tail. Rather, losing the tail and being cool with it.
I want to believe this is a bravery that won’t wear out.
Airplanes Are New Eyes
Nowadays flying is old hat to most of us. Worse than that, it’s unpleasant. Post-9/11 air travel is an exercise in patience, pain, and endless strings of irritations. But as Louis C.K. reminded me the other day: I am sitting in a chair blasting through the sky without even a hair ruffled. I should probably shut the hell up and look around more!
I’ve always been super poet-y about my view out the window of an airplane. Writing frantic epistles at 30,000 feet about love and distance and the meaning of life, etc. It’s pretty amazing that high up. Being above the mountains? Witnessing cataclysmic lightning storms that make me think god is around somewhere using the Clapper? Yes please!
So, in that vein, here’s a photo I took flying from Orlando to Dallas. If you squint really hard, you can see the Moon. The freaking Moon. Clouds are the new ground. Moon is the new Sun. Sun is for people on the other side of the moving vehicle. And for people that don’t live in Oregon.
New poems in NOÖ Journal!
I’ve got some hybrid poem/plays up from my manuscript Mephistopheles Hotel. This journal is great—prose, poems, pictures, thoughtfulness. Check out and enjoy!
Crocodile attack!
