The Dock

I'm hoping, that when all this
comes to a close,
that I'll be free to walk
till I reach the dock where
the water became air and air became lungs
and lungs became words and words were stopped
by lips; lips that were warm like soft wool coats.
I'm hoping that when everything stops,
I'll come back to the place where
we were the fog, and
no one was there to see us go.

Hermano de mi alma.

For Mark, on his birthday. 

With every foot, stepping-
forest fires, gulping seas. 
      And life begins again. 
With every word to me, ironed into a flat
     sheet to cover more ground,
      Life begins again.
With every beam of light
      (each its very own. 
          never before seen,
          felt, or heard crashing into
          the stones of the earth),
That gets caught in the shadows of trees,
    struggling to push through, to reach you.
                                      Life begins again. 
And you are the trees; the ones lost and the ones found 
Roots that spreaaaad
    further, as seeds becoming natives, 
    tumbling over most every human.

Each new morning, each new glimpse, your very Steady breath 
resonates in the rocks,
Life begins again- 
       And the Wild echoes,
       calling to their Brother. 

From Liz Gilbert

"Dear Ones — I wanted to repost this essay I wrote from last year, because the question came up again (as it always will) just the other day...hope it's helpful!

QUESTION OF THE DAY: IS IT SELFISH TO GO ON A SPIRITUAL JOURNEY?

Somebody asked me this the other day and it made me smile, because it reminded me of the years between 2006 and 2010 (what I call "The Eat Pray Love Years") when somebody (often a reporter or interviewer) would ask me this question EVERY SINGLE DAY.

It's been a while since I've had to answer it, so I will take a trip down memory lane here, and answer it once more.

The answer is: No.

No, it is not selfish to go on a spiritual journey. For that matter, it is not selfish to go a vision quest, or to embark on therapeutic/psychological self-examination, or to go on a pilgrimage, or to devote yourself to prayer and meditation, or to take any sort of creative or healing or investigative voyage into the self whatsoever.

Because:

1) It is your divine and intrinsic right as a human being to discover who you are, and who God is, and what your purpose is, and what your talents are, and where your joy is to be found, and how to ease your own suffering and the suffering of others. (In fact, seriously: What else are you going to spend your life doing, if not, at some point, taking a bit of time to try answering even one of those questions?)

2) Going on a true journey of self-exploration should not be confused with going to a spa for a weekend. It is not a way of spoiling yourself. It is not a luxury. It is not a mani-pedi for the soul. Nor is it a relaxing endeavor — as anyone who has gone deep into meditation or self-examination can attest. We don't necessarily take on the central questions of self and divinity (Who am I? Who is God?) because it's FUN. Often we are driven toward those questions by great suffering, and can only work our way through those hard questions with tremendous courage. Sometimes we don't even want to ask those questions, but simply must. What's more, these questions can be asked at any moment, from any place in the world, in the midst of any situation. These are not questions for the rich or the privileged only. You don't need a plane ticket anywhere to explore this stuff. I have a friend who is investigating these questions from within a prison cell right now — and trust me, even from within his seven-by-ten-foot cage, he is ON A JOURNEY.

3) Going on a journey toward the self is actually a public service. You know why? Because until you get to the bottom of yourself — until you humbly investigate the roots of your own suffering and nonsense and misery and destructive patterns — you will just keep causing mayhem, misery and trouble...not only for yourself, but for others. A friend of mine who has been savagely unhappy for years finally started therapy a few months ago, and he said to me, "It's super helpful, but I just feel so selfish, spending this much time and money on myself..." To which I replied, "Trust me, dude. It is benefiting ALL OF US." (His wife and children most of all. But seriously — all of us win whenever a loved one gets helped or healed.)

4) I was once told that in Mandarin there are two words that both translate into "SELFISH" in English. One means "Doing something that benefits you." The other means, "Doing something that benefits you at the expense of others." In English, we don't have this distinction. But there is a recognition in Chinese that these are two different notions — that it is not necessarily true that anything you do for yourself harms others. Sometimes you can do wonderful and important things for yourself without taking a thing away from another human being. This is the difference between self-care and greed. Self-care = GOOD. Greed = BAD. They are critically different. Never forget it.

5) THE END."

-From Elizabeth Gilbert

quiet time + open space

This is my new yoga space :). 
Come over!

letting go of squirrels; people too.

We found a ground squirrel in Yosemite last week, on the stone steps up to Vernal Falls. His legs weren't doing what legs are supposed to do and Nick picked him up, snuggled him into my sweater. His little body relaxed, his back legs spread out like how my dog does when he is trying to cool off on the kitchen floor. I know nature will be nature, but we hoped to give him a fighting chance. Especially because when I put him back on the ground to see if he'd scurry away, he laid very tired and drunk in pain over the top of my shoe. I ran my finger softly over his spine and he breathed slow with no fear.

The staff at the nature center told us they don't care for injured wildlife, and I understood. We walked down a path, stepped over a barrier, and Nick laid the squirrel under a big tree where no one could see him. Just a tiny ball of fuzz under towering cathedrals of granite. Nick poured a little water into a piece of bark, and every drop of water I had in my body started coming out my eyes as we walked away. "I can't believe we're leaving him here," I said.

And I think he died, slipped away quietly. There are a lot of ground squirrels in Yosemite, though. There are a lot of people in the world, too. Sometimes, you're the one being left under the tree. Other times, you walk away hurting and guilty. Either way, we're all just the wildlife of this world and nature will be nature.

roots and rabbits.

My brother David is wild like many animals you can't trap in the wilderness. 
Completely illusive. Completely too fast. Completely free. 
And who has searched for his identity is many places I don't know exist. 
He has walked around the planet and with nothing on his back. 

We were kids and we were rabbits once; free.
And for years, I've watched him dodge the trappers and the predators,
The hopelessness that seeks to crush tiny bones. 
Somewhere along a trail, I tripped over my own roots and watched his heels disappear into the distant sun.
The sound his feet made echoed for miles.
Sometime I sit in this cell made for innocent people and
I wait to hear the shuffle of his feather light movements, 
Asking me to follow him, running back into the wilderness.
I swear I'd break every last window here, abandon every ship I've failed to sail.
We would always be rabbits,
never never never coming back. 

walla.

My town is full of ghosts. 

There are roads I've driven down, different each time.

The fields are never the same

and the ditches widen with every rush of winter water.

Full of shadows of people who were truly kind.

And people who smoked their cigarettes around the corner;

it bled into the bedroom window.

Street blocks frame pictures of dead days.

Mailboxes we graffiti'd.

Rooms we filled with music and kisses and homemade meals.

There were animals who ran away to new families, after the fireworks.

I wonder who else has stood in the doorways of our old place on College Avenue. 

Maybe also who wept there. 

Have they found the things I lost there?

My town is full of ghosts, 

And homes I've built and will never return to. 

But it is still my town.