KNEE TO KNOW
DAVE WASHER
A Solstice Meditation
• I am Life is A mystery
Every piece I Think I know I set down My heart is calm Love
•
Two words I no longer need Always. Never.
• Life is Changing
Let it all unfold
I am very blessed
I am a beacon of light
I am surrounded by love
I am grateful beyond measure
It is a long beautiful journey to arrive in this moment
I am here right now
I am here now
I am here
I am
•
dear sweet young human we’ve never met but I trust you the world should be in awe of you you are real and alive and it is fucking crazy and insane out there and who can tell you don’t worry hun, it will be all right? this is not that poem who can write sentences that can say all that needs to be said? who dares to say something declared as true when truth is so disguised behind layers and shrouds and veils and empty words by so much so much
loss grief
betrayal misunderstandings
hypocrisies
suffering sorrow who can describe how to find a door that opens to joy
love beauty hope
inspiration light
equanimity
wisdom
who can tell you how to grieve when our hearts are so stretched who says no one has ever died of a broken heart when they can’t see yours and the world you live existential nightmares real and poignant daily headlines of war and climate change our histories of colonization and racism who am I amidst the fires and muck our mind is the proverbial cup overflowing who chose these toxic teas being served Is it procrastinating to just want to take a hit and curl into a fetal ball of emptiness for the rest of your life
How does one person
see a hundred year oak tree and see just another thing brown and green?
While we see it as a habitat for birds light shines through as sacred dappled light leaves fall and decay the rot becomes electrified a network of mycelium connecting the forest the things that live there all the flora and fauna their myriad of languages humans choose not to listen to
It’s not just a metaphorical truth but an indigenous 10,000 year old wisdom that of course, we are all connected as one and the trees, the soil, the rocks, the water the animals, the birds, the insects are all in the conversation and it is our duty to listen to what biodiversity and this oak stand for And in the winter rains when doubt and darkness are everywhere we can visit this forest dig our hands into dark moist living soil feel fecund life feel connected where chanterelles are waiting moist golden rare jewels In this place of mystery and wonder if we could say the word God would that make it easier to say thank you and trust again?
3.
You are here always right here right now
In a place where the human parts the trauma and drama can not touch you It feels sacred leaning into the light in the trees it’s just for you we can hear the trees whisper the birds sing the quail call watching out for their babies the wind off the ocean salty and fresh there it is, a door
It could be this moment early morning dew on the spider web pastel animal clouds reflecting on Tomales Bay the way a hand drops a pebble into placid waters
a surprising splash concentric circles of waves ripple silently towards shore becoming less and less as if by magic
a blade of dew dropped grass moves it is magic
it is sacred
the smallest glimmer in that moment of discovery is magic
Your heart is sacred you are the hand releasing the pebble you are alchemy I can say this you are god there it is, a door Nature is always true nature never lies give voice to the unseen, the unheard the unknown you were meant to tell your story but do not be the story we are always changing always evolving those we have lost are always near goosebumps there it is, that door
These are doors that leave duality behind this is not that poem, not that poster art this is not another adult telling you
you are so brilliant you are so creative you are so beautiful you are so athletic you are so fortunate you can do so much
In a hidden tone of patronization a condescending pat on the back even a compliment is disguised as a judgment
If you can do so much then why aren’t you doing it and don’t forget take out the trash
your essay is due tomorrow! 4.
Maybe this is just a reminder you are not alone there are moments in all the sorrow those gentle hearts, the Shining Stars these people we miss the angels we love our broken hearts our shattered dreams that nothing can ever make right
This small reminder we are a miracle to be in this body on this planet right here right now however you want to say it you are the divine spirit awakened infinite consciousness borrowing a human body
Sometimes
I just need to repeat William Blake poem like a mantra
To see the world in a grain of sand, and heaven in a wild flower
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, and eternity in an hour
6.
It seems like when things happen they all happen all at once my mom had just died a dear friend’s son was getting married another dear friend had just died of ovarian cancer another friend had a baby I was collecting flowers for an arch portal an astrologer told me that I channel from God I said, Okay God lets see what ya got? sitting in a dripping forest near my house
I have goosebumps all things feeling woven together some infinite tapestry this is being in the flow this is where things we can’t explain seem to always happen my mom and Phoebe feel near this poem arrives as one solid piece we arrive as light and we leave as light and in between we share light whenever and with whoever we can add a splash of–– kindness and generosity a pinch of–– wisdom is knowledge with humility
I start my morning here
7.
Once I was bored in my freshman prerequisite biology class we we were studying symbiotic relationships did you know lichen is one of the first living things on this planet and is a combination of algae and fungi?
I thought a good way to impress the girls back in college be sensitive and existential used words like esoteric I doodled mushrooms scribbled esoteric mycorrhizal patterns on a wooden school desk to be or not to be suddenly became to lie like lichen and so I wrote my first living poem
I perform for you
As you perform for me
You the algae
I the fungi
Together we lie like lichen
Making Love
On this rock
never really got a date lot of smiles and validation
I became an English major anyway
We humans need each other we are symbiotically connected we are the lichen connected to our rock our mother, our earth we only need this love inside to save her to save ourselves
8.
Delight in that mystical unknown world
we humans are at our best when we go into the unknown find something that resonates in your heart cultivate presence let inspiration and creativity find you
Doodle, scribble, draw, write, sing, play an instrument, build things, make things, cook good food, make a list take time to breath, take time to enjoy what you’re doing talk deep into the night with someone you love make dreams together on how to save the world, take slow walks in the forests, the beaches the wild rivers, the deserts, the mountains
go find wonder on a granite slab at 12,000 feet stand at the edge of the ocean watching whales breach pelicans flying aligned off the edge of a wave wingtips touching the offshore spray close your eyes and open your arms and scream
I fucking love you
9.
It’s okay to feel the pain it’s okay to dive deep into the well of sorrow
It’s okay to cry and never apologize for the deep unexplainable emotions you are feeling no words can tell your story but it’s okay if you try It takes more courage to be vulnerable and transparent than to be stoic and sure just remember that the root of all these tears is love is love is love love love love not the romantic sexy love, not familial love, not happy hallmark love
Capital L Love
Is the true essence of your self that is the light we carry the dual reality will do everything imaginable in the corners and crossings of life to diminish it impermanence is the traction that reality leans on interconnectedness is the microscopic mycellium and the boundless star threads that connect us to the universe
Love is light you are the sole agent of your world some say God, I say Light in the Trees (a title of a phoebe’s art piece & tattoo on my arm) tears well up as I write these words I feel wonder and awe that under all the sorrow is the deepest reservoir of love those are the tears we cry what a gift it is to be overwhelmed by gratitude
A reminder surrounding you in light surrounding you in love opening a door to find a world filled with hope and wonder may we all open doors for others truly, the only way we can heal ourselves is to help heal others you are the brilliant gift you are revealed as an unlimited infinite being a heart of love you are here
Remember and listen to that silent voice
I am here
I am here
I am here
I am here
I am here
I am here 10.
I am here
I am here
As the boat leaves the shore
The light cast shadows across the lagoon
Her eyes squint upwards into the sky
She rows out the harbor towards the infinite horizon
Large monolith rocks shaped jagged like teeth line her route
It’s a windy day in mid April gale force wind warnings
Spring holds hope but today her signals are mixed
She told me she had been hearing voices
At the airport and she almost missed her flight
The veil is thin the voices are more apparent
That is nothing to be afraid of I consoled my eldest daughter
Are the voices saying we are welcoming you Rowing home to where your birth began
Is the falling a leap of faith
That says god will catch you
Or is the falling always an ascension From earth to heaven leaving the body behind
The boat that rows out to sea is her painting That holds the memories of her young life
That moment in April the boat left the shore She felt as light as a feather comfortable to just be
Herself as loved as love can be whispers Returning is not falling I love you she says
The wind is howling and the voices murmur It is okay you’ve done nothing wrong
Death is the hardest for the living And April will never be the same for that
We’re both lost
Our conversation was leading into a delicate place she says, if we go forward as this we change the molecular structure of our relationship life is a journey, I say still I grieve for what we leave behind can I read you a poem? she asks I’m making coffee and stop to listen the poem offers its world, natural and beautiful wonder and paradox, the weirdness of existence my heart is already open today
I cry all the time now, one of those I hate to say a silver-lining gift after traumatic knee surgery
I can’t turn back from the vulnerability the world could always be this gauzy a universe of big fluffy clouds a chiffon curtains all dreamy
I’m lying down
I’m flying
I’m crying it’s all the same here we are both lost in the moment we’re both lost
Her poem casts me into the woods, crying flying lying down I am lost in the forest, tall firs leaning into their shadows brambles underfoot catching our feet, poison oak touching our sleeves, the sun is going down we left my house with her dog and son off-trail hiking leading into drainages halted by large downed trees suddenly everything feels different we feel small I know there is a familiar path but for now we are lost
it is just this feeling that we’re unable to find our way touch that familiar thing that lets us know we are okay, we will be safe it’s just this, that I feel best when I feel lost, witnessing my fear of feeling alone and without compass, transformed by a magnificent forest, beacons of life giving force that nature which has takes such unforgivable beatings from our human hands still just grows and surrounds us and I am happiest when I am lost in this light in the trees, I feel forgiven. I watch the forest and birds outside my window she’s still reading as the trees in the morning light moving softly from an invisible wind everything seems so much bigger than our humanness we will be okay
The mind is a brilliant thing and we’re all going to die
Where did I just set my keys
Do I have fucking long haul Covid brain fog again
That tick bite last month
I’m feeling my heart now
Is it normal for my age
Oh wise men please help me
Buddha Jesus Michelangelo Leonardo da Vinci Aristotle
Darwin Einstein– Oh wait edit that I mean Oh wise women please help me
Madam Curie Malala Yousafzai, Jane Austen Maya Angelo
Pema Choidron Mary Oliver Andrea Gibson Saint Phoebe
I forget the others I know there are more
What books do I love
Is this living in fear
Something is missing
The pain in my body
The falling into darkness
What was your name again
So many people I love are dying
That secrets I can’t tell because I cant remember them
A fall on my head
That overwhelming hum in my ears
That story I can’t let go of
The ads on TV the ads are everywhere
Where was that place
Not enough sleep
Change the world is on me
I cry all the time now
They are missing again
This broken heart
I’m feeling more vulnerable
Her daughter is not eating
Too many drugs
There are always too many wars
Will my knee ever heal
my partner feels lost and anxious
This feeling of aloneness
I try to eat good healthy food
And we’re all going to die
The stillness of arriving
The stories of our lives we share together I feel softer when you make me laugh better when I hear about your day helping young children, you hold me when it is all too much
Too tired, too weak, too disappointed when all the books on shelves make me dizzy, the important papers on my desk are still unopened cast long shadows, I can’t find the something extra to finish the next
Sentence when this body is not my awareness you still hold me when I can’t open my eyes
You know how to be the ground I can always find my way home you are my satellite always be glowing
Stars slowly dimming in a million years from outer space we are still the constant, two magnetic planets revolving in our stellar orbits around our magical gravities when all this human worldliness dissolves, there it is
Only dust and space, I still see a molten translucent golden center within light shades of pink and blue fading to white becoming all light I can find, always find my way then
We are light we are atomic waves and points we are home we are ground we are teachers we are falling
We are rising we are river we are homeless we are silence in the stillness we are laughter in our wisdom we are healing in our kindnesses
It is a sacred open, uncertainty cultivating vast emptiness out there in this field of unknown we are the always in the stillness of arriving together
This is how we will win the fight
a homage to Andrea Gibson
The rapture of being alive
Feeling the thinning of my skin
Making paper doll chains or a great poem
Training my eyes onto the small things
The glitter in the gutter, the dew on the web
My love we are born into astonishment and awe
Be the watcher and the witness as I have heard
Babies don’t form tears in the first two years
Only thing we have control is where we put our intention
The remembering of living is understanding of dying
Right here in this second
Let it overwhelm me
I can live In the divine
It is Liberating to give up control
I then say I just don’t know
I live in curiosity
I will always head towards an expansive place
Focus on your peripheral sight it is not what we see
It is how we see
I feel the most grateful when I was wrong
More than the words
Write because you love it
Joy is our birthright
Everything here
Is a miracle
The world is this incredible thing, fucking beautiful so fight for it
I know the sound of a poem before I know the poem
Speaking a language that is not a language
It is like writing a song that is feeling the emotion
Understand the vibration this is how we will win the fight
Waiting Waiting Waiting
I am seeing the ghosts of war starved children everywhere
Not just the haunting images in the NY Times but the
The raw longing for that which is not there
Waiting for someone or something to reveal itself
I see myself as a this missing boy I always assumed
This white minister’s son’s happy family childhood
Become inverted into something else
Insecure here, shame over there, hiding being around everywhere
But first I land again and again
In my sweet mother’s home
I see her young four year old self on the living room couch
Kneeling facing out a window towards a tree lined street
Looking out into the Texas void waiting waiting waiting
Starved by loneliness in the hot Waco summer
Her single mother ignoring her grading papers in another room
Her raw longing for life erased being abandoned by her father
Her age always changes to the innocent child at eight
The young awkward six foot girl at twelve
The lonely adolescent at seventeen who finally gave up
Longing for the shadow she could never reveal and
In college her body evolved her into tall beautiful Baylor Beauty
A ribbon around her neck, but cast into Andrew Wyatt’s Christina’s World
Her supine exhausted posture in a human desolate Texas isolation
As God as my witness I will never be lonely again
She met my father and said “I’ll travel the world, I want to see it all”
He said yes and they traveled the world but that only disguised her loneliness
The sweet southern drawl of a pretty girl raised her family as a ministers wife
So she left to see the world and left me alone waiting waiting I’m still waiting
Surf Tibet
Once upon a time
I held a hand so softly
Silently asking
Do you need help
That the space between our palms
Was the lightest place
Of not touching touching
A universe beyond measure
Star light sparks synapses connect
For hours the delicate movements
Space between not fingers but time
Flying across a world blue skies
Vast arid deserts
Tibetan Magic
The shamanic Icaros
Wolves howl
The darkness and light at once
Later I will ask
Tell me about the disease
It is fine if I don’t think about it
But I’m dying they say
You will tell me if it changes
Only three people know
I promise I will tell you
We held hands for another moment
And traveled back to those farthest corners
We could return to that world
without signs and nouns
A space between palms
We flew further than time and space
Rain storming in wonder and wind on a skylight recalling ancient drums I could hear her Phoebe has the power to change the weather
I exclaimed to no one but myself I believe!
There is medicine in the night’s mystical power enough to move mountains
So powerful you never need mention to anyone
But are we really that wise they ask me
Most people already are
They just don’t know it yet, I said Electricity between our fingers
Enough light for a small town in Tibet
Once upon a time
I landed in Tibet
I met a man and asked him for light
I walked across the Lhasa tarmac
walking 60 meters to my backpack
Even then a voice seem to be watching over me
We are all on such a solo journey welcome
Elevation enough to make me lightheaded
My limbs burning with needles and pins
Glare of light beads of sweat
Stinging my eyes hard to believe what is real
Dreams at night but never really sleeping
I meet a family they invite a total stranger to sit with them
Water heating over the dried yak dung coals
Poured in casual ceremonial love
I drank the rancid salted yak butter tea
Holding slips of transparent parchment
A daughter continually chants prayers
A grandfather sips from his cup through his scarred smile
And the last remains of broken teeth
I wonder if tortured and beaten are his stories
A tea as foreign as the place I sit the first taste fills my senses
Not of an exotic rancid fatty salted chai but Of sacred yak butter prayer candles
Burning in the few remaining temples
A somatic memory of sacred within and without A history so painful something so illustrious
I did not know how to cry then
I walked counter-clockwise amongst prostrating pilgrims
A large loud crackling fire of burning cedar sensory overload overwhelmed by the ancestral sounds and tastes of caramelized smoke
Wood collected with loving devotion from 400 kilometers away where trees can grow
The most beautiful man I have ever seen gives me a piece of turquoise
I leave before dawn with the Tibetan family freezing in a Russian 1940 open truck they call a bus
A secret trip to help repair a once magnificent Temple
One of six thousand monasteries and holy grounds destroyed
Along with millions of innocent monks and believers.
A secret genocide of a once magical sacred culture
A cultural revolution gone mad
I learn later it would still be years in prison
If caught in this act of treason
Of rebuilding this rubble into hope
Not that long ago it was death by sticks and stones
If caught carrying flowers as the intellectual bourgeoisie
I drove across the high planes of arid emptiness
Toyota Land Cruiser and a confident silent Tibetan driver
We are driving on a road called the Friendship hwy across the great Tibetan high plateau
From Lhasa to Kathmandu
The highest pass in the world
Elevation 6,380 meters
A moon scape of expansiveness
A lonely place with a crest so flat
You can still see the earths curve
Celebrating this monumental height
A thousand years of hands intentionally stacking rocks
With colored prayer flags releasing their wisdom
A frigid wind moving amorphous clouds that shift the sky
Revealing a hundred kilometers to the south
The highest point on our planet
Above the Rongbok glacier
An iconic peak that pierces the atmosphere
Challenging humans to climb her
To breathless death or heroic ascent
Light as sharp as razors
Is there any outpost on any map further than here
I eventually land in the town of Shigatze
The Chinese imposed Panchen Lama resides here
I find myself lost
for 50 years foreign individual travelers
Were banned from entering Tibet
Why I am alone to be here now
I’m not really sure
Small children run towards me like a group of chickens
dark soiled cracked hands
Never have they been washed outstretched
If I could read these palms
I smile and also feel anguish
Begging laughing smiling dark gorgeous eyes
Not for money
Chanting Dalai Lama Dalai Lama
Picture Dalai Lama Dalai Lama
I have arrived prepared
I give them photos of his holiness and Polaroid photos of their trusting smiles
Water is frozen from a hose spigot
A six inch dripping icicle suspended time here is frozen
The day is brilliant clear
The light feels like mirrors
Cutting my skin blinding my eyes
A far away voice from a balcony
A shack set into a faraway cliff
I hear faint indecipherable language but English against the monotone landscapes and white washed pealing stucco buildings dotted with drying yak dung Set against this non-duality landscape a familiar voice
Do you need help he asks
I blink into the sky trying to focus
For a moment I wonder what to say
He is wearing a Mexican sombrero
American not a hippy something else
Perhaps I’m the hippy
A lanky tall white gringo is walking towards me
I almost say no and he senses that
I need a place to sleep I say
There is a restaurant that has benches
I think you can sleep on those
Not a four star hotel but better than nothing he says
In Tibetan he gives clear directions to our driver
You speak Tibetan I ask incredulous
Can I buy you dinner
He knows how to say yes
He says yes
I stow my gear under some hardwood benches
We sit at a small table drinking warm Chinese beer
A plate of tsampa and a bowl of chicken soup is served
With head and feet floating in the broth
I have questions
Who are you
How do you know Tibetan
How did you learn to read Sanskrit
Why are you here
What are these people really feeling
So much grief and loss
What history is real now
We talk into the night we are close to the same age
He is John Newman
He’s studying with the Dalai Lama
To learn Tibetan language and how to read Sanskrit
To better understand the history and messages hidden in the text
He has permission to go into the secret libraries
I sit in awe as our conversation travels
Across the many fields and landscapes
He brings color and knowledge from immersion and experience
Bit by bit we get to know each other
I invite him to California
He’s from California
He went to college in Madison Eastern studies
I went to Sonoma English
He lives in Dharmsala
I live in San Francisco
He is studying the Mystical phenomenology
Vajrayana Buddhist Kalacakra tantra he tells me
I design surf and skate clothing
Surf Tibet I say
Yes he says laughing that’s it exactly
The electricity dims and goes out
We are talking in the dark
I tell him about the hidden Buddhist temple Odiyan
A 100 foot golden stupa only visible
From the ocean on the Mendocino coast
I found while growing pot with a friend
He’s never been to Northern California
He grew up in So Cal
I grew up in in So Cal
He grew up in in Garden Grove
I grew up in in Garden Grove
It’s almost pitch black I can barely see
I tell him I think we need more light
He goes into the kitchen
Brings a lit candle to our table
He went to Garden Grove high school
I moved away by then
I went to the Lincoln elementary school though I say
I did too he says
I lived on Crosby avenue I say
I lived on Sherman avenue he says
Rusty Bostelman, Donny Killenbach, Greg Harrington
Names from the neighborhood
Yes I remember those friends he says
Long long ago from another time
We look at each other in the dim light
Dude you were at my 7 year old birthday party I say
I remember you Dave Washer
I remember you John Newman
We hold out arms clasp hands
Holding palm to palm
First time I feel heat and see small sparks in the space within time
How did we get here along these complex routes
To arrive at this place In this moment
I look up sheepish my life has meaning
I have not learned yet how to look someone in the eyes
He does and holds our gaze
Is this one of those moments when you meet someone
Visions of Ram Das be here now
The Beatles and the Maharishi
is this one of those awakenings
Is this that mystical moment where I find my path
Oh Sidartha, David means beloved stories my mother told me
Life changes and nothing is ever the same
In measures of heart beats awakening arrives and it passes
Yes, but still a spectacular exotic story the voice whispers
I meet his eyes what does this mean I ask
Do I now have to become a Buddhist
Ahh Dave he pauses his eyes holding steady
Most people already are
They just don’t know it yet
John sounds casual as things like this happen all the time
I will never forget these words this moment
We do not exchange addresses we never speak again
I find my bench and a small blanket laid out
Once again I freeze instead of sleep it is a long night
Once upon a time
Light and life
Were swallowed whole
Buried my face into the earth
Swallowing fists full of dirt and grass
Dropped from a plane falling falling all strings cut
Landing in a foreign field
reality was not the same everything everyone became inverted trying to read life forward
Through a mirror backward
There is nothing finite
There is no wisdom nor words
There are no mathematical equations to reconstruct Quantum waves and dots are useless
A friend giving advice I will cut you out forever for that
Life as a spiritual journey is on a need to know basis
But an eldest daughter leaving their human body so early
Is I fucking need to fucking know now reality
No longer knowing a spiritual journey
It is a journey knowing a spirit
Everything else is left behind
Phoebe has secret powers I believe but do not understand that is faith my son the voice says
I’m no longer a father to this saintly angel
I was told early in a night with wolves
There is no right way or wrong way to grieve
No time table on how long we grieve
I was told early by an indigenous elder chief
That in their culture they believe
That those who die young will stay behind to help you heal I was told early by a person by no hint from me found her by name in the ether
Could see her angelic spirit
Explained that phoebe has always been my guide
All in white dancing like curtains in a breeze had important work to do elsewhere
It was over the years that I learned by walking and crawling under shrub and manzanita
Following faint deer trails napping where they had slept
Grief is not about healing to end the grief
Healing is transforming grief
From a place from grief as stomach crunching anguish
To a place as grief into heart opening gratitude
Understanding that the tears we shed
In our deepest sorrow
In the deepest roots
Is a well of deepest love
That is the nudge
Into a faith to believe in
There is more than we could ever possibly fathom
In this world far beyond our philosophies
And physics of time and space
You heal by being the healing for others
Not to find enlightenment but become bodhisattva that hold the door open for others to walk through
There is nothing to say to suffering but validating love
We are all love we have always been love
We just don’t know it yet
Once upon a time
Both my parents died
My Mom eighty eight
Her body and mind like a boat on a lake
A slow coast to her final breath
nine months later
My Dad ninety seven
Just long enough to grieve
Her safe passage home
Was told by his doctor it was okay to die
And three days later he did
Death comes in many ways
It comes as a benevolent friend
It comes as a blasphemous assassin
Both deaths are the same shrouds of myst
Both parents died in the same hospital bed In the living room
Our family home facing west towards the horizon
A view of the ocean and on a clear day
The sleeping feminine outline of Catalina Island
Family holding their hands telling the stories
You could feel their spirits leaving
Dad and I created a ritual on my visits
We sat on a bench near the sand watching the ocean
I told dad mom was dying soon I think she’ll send a whale today
Instead a large pod of dolphins hundreds
Came swimming towards us just for us
Breathing the salt air talking about life death and love
Short term memory does not retain breakfast or the superbowl
But we could still go deep on feelings and philosophy no one else in crystal cove saw them
Afternoon golden light small wind chop reflecting like diamonds
We both blinking our tears into the sun
Dad she did it I said yes she did he said
The next morning she died
Even in his short term memory sundowner dementia
He never forgot this moment and as we returned we sat
At her bedside and told thr most elegant love poem
Of their life and love together I have ever heard
After they were both gone
A light was dimmed
A page was turned
An epilogue written at birth
So reverently revealed after death
Phoebe’s sudden fall from the cliff dropped me out of the sky
Both landing in different worlds
Where nothing was real I had to start over Return to Go do not collect things from your past
Mom and dad’s death were softer everything became real
I mourned their deaths for the loss of my self
It is said you are not and adult until your parents die
I felt that truth and wrote their eulogies
Left the paper in my pocket and spoke only from my heart and have ever since To be truly living understands death as a friend
Dissolves the duality of a diverse reality
Non duality is the space within space opposing impermanence
What a fraction of finite time we have to be alive
twenty eighty eight ninety seven are eye blinks as simple time equations
We inhabit these complex human bodies in the shortest measures of time
Consciousness flows we are the river becoming ocean
Why do we hold on so hard to the shame we’ve landed here with
I meditate in this place and close my eyes feeling the sun’s warmth
Things become still breath is slow I feel presence I always do
My head becomes heavy a silent movie begins to unfold
My eyes are shut but I can see clearly I am transported
The screen opens into a world dimensional and infinite
There’s a horizon that seems endless
I am moving barefoot but I don’t see my feet
My closed eyes are the lens of a scanning camera
Something in the distance set against the barren arid moonscape
The lonely Tibetan friendship highway once again appears
Mountains ranges are vector outlined
Curves across the horizons
Instead of piled rocks and prayer flags
There are pastel color slowly revealing
Three larger than life crystalline translucent pillars appear
Each a different color their size is beyond human measure
Yellow pink and blue each one emerging from a pearlescent white mineral
I walk towards them
We are your three saints the angels say
Once upon a time as your Daughter Mother Father
I am wondering I am wandering I am light I hear these words
You dear beloved you are also a saint
You just don’t know it yet
Once upon a time
Something happened
I came to a place where the world
Stopped me in my tracks
And the voice said
Dave Washer we love you
You deserve this life
Have no shame
The world is magic
The world is in chaos
We’re at the tipping point
A call to arms we see you
You are here to do something important
It is all yours you can do anything
My eyes are open hearing this
It feels erotic as my entire body is shimmering
A golden brilliant light surrounds me
sparks igniting around my body
Palms forearms thighs calves chest soles of feet top of head
Sparks like a grinder’s wheel in the night’s shadows
Weightless
Let this be my death
Let this be the door
Let this be my life
You can touch the music
You can hear the silence
We can see the horizon together
We are all god
Each of us a part of the cosmic mycelium web
Love thy neighbor
We are bio-dynamic creatures
Kick ass mother fucker
All returning to earth
Head and feet floating in the broth
I’m all in Infinite ocean mycelium soil
I walk toward you now hold my hand
softly feel the light
We already are making a difference
We just don’t know it yet
When I was just a small boy
When I was just a small boy
Maybe four or five years old
My mom and dad went on a long Extended world tour
Pan Am airlines
The ticket was free as long as you kept Going forward
I knew nothing of this at that time
I remember mom telling me
Nonnie and Grandma would be taking Care of us
Me and my brother just the two of us then
Nonnie took us on a month long trip
Up the California and Oregon coast
She made us keep a scrap book
And it was almost fun but
The driving was stupid boring
But Grandma couldn’t drive and we
Landed home and hours felt like days
Days felt like weeks
Months were years
My grandma was from Germany landed in Scranton
She didn’t have an accent but her voice was rough
she was short and wide
Her temper was short and bare
Wore long threadbare dresses and smelled funny
She looked ancient in a way I didn’t understand
Which is just another way to say scary
Her skin was wrinkles her jowls had layers of folds
She only cooked stew beef potatoes carrots celery
I tried at all times to stay hidden from her
I was convinced my parents were not Coming back home
I was convinced they were not just Normal parents
Something mysterious laid behind
Their disappearance
It could not be explained
I was beyond sad
A state of hopeless and helpless
My world was only my bedroom and dining room where I would hide everyday under the dinner table
The table cloth just long enough
To be safely hidden
I went looking for cues to find more information
Where are my mom and dad
When are they coming back
In my searches I found my dad’s
Blaupunk short wave raidio
It had 6 buttons
First two were FM and AM
But the other four were labeled SW
SW short wave where in between static
I could hear sounds I did not understand
If I tried hard enough I could turn the mobs
And move the antenna enough to make out voices
People mostly men talking
All in different languages or if
English in different accents
Or words that were obviously code
I had discovered access to mom and dad’s hidden world
Secret lives even if I didn’t understand
I could listen for information
For the endless hours
The whereabouts of my lost parents
In my searching for clues I found something
Unexplainable
Something magical
At the top of my mom’s secretary desk
They was a hidden in a small secret drawer
I had to use a chair to get on the desk part
Use other drawers like ladder steps
To reach a tiny door with a drawer
I found a purple velvet pouch
A metal box with pink and turquoise jewels inside
There was a lock on the box but after days
Of searching I found a tiny key in a drawer
My mom kept her pens and letter openers
(Which I also knew were actually weapons )
By this time I was sure my parents were not the
Reverend Dr Washer and his lovely wife
Dawn O’Brien Washer
But truly secret agents on a life threatening
Dangerous top secret mission
I had watched Man from Uncle with my dad
I knew about these things I was
I also had super powers to fight evil
I knew my parents were in trouble
But I didn’t understand the technology
Of how to use the SW buttons
But when I found the hidden box
Everything changed
I went to my hiding place under the table
I slowly opened the box
There were two decks of cards
One turquoise and one a deep purple
An intricate exotic pattern was printed
In solid gold ink against the deep color
The edges of the cards were also gold
Which made them look like solid gold bars
Even now they’re beauty has never been matched
These were obviously a treasure
These were obviously the reason they were gone
The cards had a magnetic force
They were so slippery that they actually Floated off the wooden floor
I began to use the cards as an instruction guide
Tune into the different stations
I developed a technique
I knew then that I was here to help save their lives
My parents had to find their way home
The floating cards had emblems and numbers
Hearts, diamonds, clover and a shovel
I began to realized that by using
The shapes and numbers
With the buttons and the dials
I could find different countries
Different cities
Different languages
Different citizens
Different lives
Different time zones
Different realities
I worked diligently turning nobs
Dialing in the different frequencies
It was a very scary and difficult job
Each button represented a heart or shovel and so on
Each number a station
And underneath it all
I was certain they were dead
But I would never give up
I see this small boy, me hiding from his Grandma
But nostalgic memories still delighted him 2. 3.
Trying to find his assumed dead parents
Who had left him
With a scary human
Desperate to create some kind of technology
To cut through a vast and infinite landscape
To try to resurrect his mom and dad
The faith of a young boy to spend hours in hiding
Turning dials
And looking for portals
A way to see reality further and more clearly
Using magic cards
And some kind of time transport
To find them.
They of course were fine and I was so glad
To see them
But this beginning of aloneness I am finding
Still haunts me
Sometimes I feel as if I’ve never left the hiding place
Under that family dining room table
A few weeks before Dad died
I reminded him of this three month
Pan Am around the world vacation
Where my parents left me alone
My short wide wrinkled accent foreboding Grand ma
For three months
How desperate I was to get them home
Using his Blaupunkt radio
Those 4 SW buttons
And a deck of magical Moroccan gold leaf cards
He laughed full heartedly
He had hard short term memory dementia by then
Even painful ones or at least my painful ones
If we took that trip now he said We’d be thrown in jail for child abuse
I had to laugh he was after all trying to be charming We were watching TV
He and mom were always watching TV
Mom had died a few months earlier
Sometimes he’d ask where she was
She’s gone I’d say she’s passed on you know that
A trailer came on for a movie with a VW van
A back drop of an Alaskan mountain range
Into The Wild flashed the title
I saw that movie he said
Really I said not believing him not really his kind of movie I was thinking But then he surprised me
That movie was way to sad for me to watch he said
Ya really I retorted he eats some bad berries
There was that he said but it reminded me of when you came home from your trip
They wheeled you off the plane in a wheelchair
You were so skinny
I really thought you were going to die
I was going to die? I asked
It was traumatic I continued
but I never thought I was going to die
You were in the hospital for a long time
You couldn’t walk some kind of arthritis
Yeah my knee was a mess Reiders Syndrome
Doctor said my spine would fuse up
I’d be a hunchback
one leg would grow shorter
But no one mentioned death to me I laughed
Well now you know he said not laughing
So you should know
I’m writing this poem
If you could call it this a poem
On my iPhone one finger at a time
Not very Jack kerouac
But I like the one letter one finger at a time approach
I haven’t even edited this yet
There’s a fire in the fireplace
Jenny and I are in Elk
New Years Eve is in two days
It rained all day Jenny never got out of her PJs
And bathrobe I got her for Christmas
A perfect day she says
I went out right as it began to rain
I prepped a pork belly with some red spicy dry rub put that with some potatoes in the oven
500 for 15 minutes then down to 275 and left
I forage for mushrooms here I’m only looking for one
Hedgehogs they’re a favorite
And I know a spot
There are not a lot of people who walk these woods
A year can change things and a fallen tree
Lush new growth growing in speed with coastal fog
And El Niño winters
The old road cut used for hauling out lumber
Is overgrown in places as if it never existed
Hedgehogs and Bolettes grow in conifer duff
Chanterelles in the coastal live oak
The rain isn’t bothersome under the conifer
I have to wear a hood to keep the rain off my neck
My knee is wobbly and I walk slow
It is difficult not to trip
Carefully with intention
not just for the hedgehogs
But also this knee of mine is a mystery
Knee replacement western medicine at its best
They don’t tell you it is severe trauma
Amputate the leg spread the tendons and muscles
Attach an implant and glue you back together
Five months in I go in for my six week check up
My knee has been abnormally swollen
Scar tissue is dried blood and it’s numb and ugly
He looks at my knee and says we have a problem
I had walked in feeling good
We’re going to Taos New Mexico in a few days
It’s our vacation can I ride my bike
Your knee cap has slid off
That’s not good
It has to be fixed you can’t heal like this
5.
My leg is a foreign object now I don’t really understand it
In a year I have had four surgeries and have lived in a world of mystery
Not the mystery of wonder which calls me forward as a blissed out child but the mystery of what the fuck is going one with my body
I am not dying of stage 4 cancer so there are many many blessings but I can feel what it is like to see dying
I can ask myself am I afraid of dying
am I afraid of death
My knee feels like a radio with some cosmic antennae attached
yes there must be short wave buttons that I can find 6 year old self again find the channel to what is channeled
Not finished....... work in progress
Everything we lose is a gift
Sweeping leaves around the mediation has pink concrete with deep expansion joints laid out as an exact grid of squares a stark striking contrast that only enhances the randomness of the falling
oak leaves within the mathematical equations of architects and masons who plotted and built this human structural formation
I sweep my broom against the linear patterns with a kind and friendly intention for the mother oak tree Circumscribed within the boundaries of this architecture
light broom strokes that move leaves in a direction and hard quick strokes that dig into crevices and wispy strokes for the mats in front of the door and short strokes that have the rhythm of a metronome and long strokes that sound like a river and staccato strokes that sound like a cuban drum beat
I rake the leaves into small piles that land in the center of a square
A sense of collected randomness in the tight angle geometric pattern
I’m an old yogi sweeping leaves at the monastery
I was a master in my field building exquisite gardens
Habitats of native plants pollinators flowering shrubs trees
I am now
as the other meditation students walk into the hall
A frosty cold morning
Not finished work in progress
To be finished....
The river catches my breath
I am the leaf floating upon the surface the river catches my breath a thin branch dragging its tender weight waves of easy concentric ripples
sunlight moonlight twilight iridescent reflections
I am forever dancing down the currents and eddies rushing, falling, spinning and splashing how many times have I drowned and then been saved smiling
I again I again I another thousand times again
I was the first fish that could swim
I am the minnow in my mother’s belly
I am the river that catches her fearful hidden eye as she pulls me out
perhaps it will be this life’s time that I am the one who will find the courage to break the chains of this human shame and suffering an find my way back to the ocean and the source of this river
Dance class instructions on getting down
hearing the trombones and saxophones and a big bass drum and touch your toes like wind through trees a heart clear of disease we’re singin loudly from the bleachers now
ring the bell on your way down let the birds in and dance like a clown wiggle your nose and smell a rose dance upside down holding your breath shuffle across the floor
slip and fall but don’t hurt yourself sing loudly sugar pop mama move your feet in time with the baby elephants do a waltz with your cat
pretend that you are your favorite animal
find your way into another universe and on the way down find a pair of tweezers and pick some nose hairs who cares waltz in the opposite direction that the birds are flying Sway the way you remember your first kiss dance and groove like you’re wearing skates and its not thin ice
pretend your alive and electric tango with your ghost in the closet well if you do hurt yourself make that the new dance Your knees will forgive you later dance like you were a fish swimming through kelp
stand up stand up reach up to the sky
breath breath breath while you wiggle and giggle jump to the left, jump to the right, dance like there were never any doubts you’ve jumped through all the hoops its time to get down
get down get down your flying now and no one can ever stop you
crawling on my hands and knees
Went into the forest yesterday. Crawling on my hands and knees under the huckleberry in the pine encrusted dark rich fecund soil. I reach my hand in to the depth of it. Smell it, rub it around on my fingers. Dig a little deeper and feel the essence of all that is, all that connects to the planet. I think of Love and I think of how our bodies move through this world. I want to dive into the earth
like I dive into your body, how you give yourself to me. You are such an earth
being. Every part of you tastes of the earth I love much. I love your lips, I love your nipples I love your skin, I love your ass, I love the wet essence between your legs. Diving into the being of you is diving into the most lushest forest. My passion is for something so much larger than just two people making love. It is the passion for loving the flow and magnificence of the natural world and all it’s gifts. In a world that is so divided and so out of sync. What a gift to find we are the a portal to the center of the astral world of pure sublime consciousness.
Nothing but wonder
There is a new voice in your sound how delicious the world smells after this prescient August rain fills our cups the doubts and complex parts drop away like autumn leaves a light wind carrying us is it too early to dream about fall’s release a place we can walk to point at anytime and say I am here take a deep breath exhale and see nothing but wonder in the mystery a song for the future a sound of echo and crickets
If There was a Way
If there was a way
To make it all better
Untangle the yarn
To remember the right word
Rewind the misstep
Always find my keys
If there was a way
To remove all the shame
To be understood
To not feel afraid
To remember every dream
If there was a way
To be healthy and fit
Feel laughter and joy
Find lightning in a bottle
See miracles in a blade of grass
To reach out and always feel love
If there was a way
To talk to the trees
Understand the secrets of the hive
See the webs hidden in the soil
To watch all the animals
Hidden in the forest
Burrowed in the earth
Swimming in our vast waters
And hear all the secrets they hold
Say hello to the wild life
And hear them answer me back
Good morning dear human
We endure you
We still love you
If there was a way
To soar across sunsets
On the wings of a raptor
To discuss philosophy with a raven
To take a nap with a deer
Run on a trail with a coyote
Listen to the secrets of a puma
Meditate with a fox
Become the sound of a creek
It is in the wild nature
Of the self
I loose myself
And step into the unknown
I remind this human body
It’s okay
It is not lost
To wander
It is not wrong to feel fear
To be human Is tiresome
so easy to forget
feeling uplifted by joy
so hard to release
falling into sorrow
Even in the most courageous moments
We can reside in humility
Even in the most tired feelings of retreat
We can reside in courage
And then I find my self
In the wild nature of being
Oh yes you were there all the time
In the Night
There is a Haiku in every moment
The sound of opening
A jar
The taste of water on your lips
And the closing
Of a lid
My daughter has the power to change the weather
And it rained all night
The sound of rain drops on the sky light
P i t t e r p a t
Finally falling asleep after a beautiful night with plant medicine and icaros
I think I stole your pillow
looking for something
You’ll find it in the morning
One Small Feather
There are so many layers and realms to this world
There are languages that have no nouns
There are intelligences that have no brain yet can make decisions that can change a forest
These five senses are only the tip of an iceberg Which is its own tragic cliche metaphorical noun
There is so much more to all this
Our planet is the most beautiful place
This blue green jewel within an infinite solar system
This living breathing god of wonder unto itself
Humans were once so amazing and magical
And if we hold still can still yes we are
A time of cultivating life and balance
I wonder how did we come to this place
Of separation from spirit
And being stewards of earth
Watching the 6 year old grand daughters
Learn to hold the new pouletts
I tell them how to whisper love words
Rustled and scared then calmed to a presence
Holding the young hen softly in innocent arms
Telling their tiny egg laying friends
I love you trust me
In your arms they trust you
So now feel the trust in your self
This sweet animal cultivating connection
Without holding onto her
Feel her calmness and trust
This is how we save the world
Settling life feeling trust one small feather at a time
But then the next morning
The dog gets into the paddock
Sweet natured pet turned blood thirsty animal
Chases the chicken into the goat pen
Snarling and swinging the hen by it’s neck
Chaos and feathers
I rush in and separate the dog and pull her away
We count the hens Stella sees it first
Fuscia is gone she’s the one who lays blue eggs she cry’s
Fuscia is my favorite she can’t be gone she has to be here
Her blue egg sister Elsie sits on a perch clucking her sadness
EL Rey our Rooster crows loudly mourning for her return
Stella and Junie knew their chickens
Had names for each one and loved them
Race home to be with them
We look everywhere for hours Fuscia is gone
Their sadness is unbearable not just the girls but the hens and Rey
She can’t be gone I know she’s here says Junie
Just before dark Fuscia came running home
Straight to her sister in the hen house clucking loudly Kids she’s back I yell proud and relieved I always believed she would come back Stella cry’s out loudly
El Rey and the other hens all returned to the coop Junie the youngest exclaims–– all the hens
And El Rey knew she was gone!
They really were all so sad and missed her and They all called her home
They really talked to her
Stella says quietly––I’m glad she came home so all the chickens can go to sleep happy tonight
That is the faith of understanding
Believing Fuscia will make it back home to safety
Also the world can be scary without closure
Is it the benefit of understanding
Or is it the faith in believing
Is it the noble truth that anything can happen and will
The quiet dog goes mad
Returning back to it’s it’s pack nature
Trying to kill a small feathered friend
There is the quiet sense
Of being a part of nature
Holding witness to it’s beauty and its profane
To be human
And understand you cannot hold onto life
But the quiet sense of being
A part of something bigger than all the flocks
Holding witness one feather at a time
It is change one feather at a time
Infinite Forgiveness
Where do we touch the sun
And do not return
The wax wings melting
Above an ocean of intolerance
We build our ships and fences
Things with measure and security
Thinking forever is the time we can hold something
Onto the journey
Onto the flying towards the sun
It is not hubris to believe in light
To see from this distance
The river’s bends and turns
Eroding its way through the darkest crevices
Riparian life growing without despair
Reaching out towards the air
When we do melt and when do we succumb
Even Cancer can be a gift
Shouting FUCK CANCER
At our loss and despair
And it may be something you might never see again
Looking downward
Or is it upward
From this dizzying height
It is the ocean we become
Infinite forgiveness where time no longer exists
When time starts again
Light is revealed in your wisdom
Where truth is hidden in a breeze
Worms curling through earth are the heart’s door
I stumble past the nouns to make it all clear
Where love is the river
And the starlings fly as a dappled murmuration cloud
In play with earth flying random and synchronized
Thank you for showing me how the world is always alive
Against the cool golden sun low in the sky
Where truth is hidden in the reeds
Her eyes say she knows more
Skipping verbs from the shore like they were pebbles
Look to the west
The puma watches it all hidden in sword ferns against the oak
Surfing backside flow across the river
Tears show up like random rain
Even if you’re hungry tired and cross
A teary smile as a rainbow appears over the hill and a junco picks at a seed
And it may be something you never see again
In the Waters of the Sublime
In the waters of the sublime
I rest my weary legs
Amputation and lack of sleep
Have rendered me into a world
I am helpless to understand
All I have ever known
Has left me on this shore
I have waded in ankle deep
I am wobbly
my knee is week
Yet there is this electrical current glowing brighter as if an angel from another realm only seen in dreams
Blows on it like a flame
Ever shining and more luminous
The ocean and the stars are the infinite
And my feet in the sand
Are the last vestiges
Of a human hour glass dissolving
Our mathematical universe into a fungi network
I have sat in wet decomposing leaves
Under the oaks and pondered this moment
Endlessly, as if on my own death bed
Darling, how can I feel so much alone
Surrounded by so much love
That every molecule in my universe
Is ignited by a source we all share
When I hold this war torn human experience
I can see half of humanity
I can see half of death
But from this sublime place on the shore
I am the pebble dropped from the sky
Intoxicating mysterious wondrous
All I can breath are waves of love
As I splash into the sea
Yes we have this in common
Oh yes that secret power you and I share That thing that goes straight to the core Sees the wounds and wiring can parse out the hopes and dreams can absorb the loss can revel in the joy can tell at a moments glance what is your favorite color
That they just bought that new blouse
That new bike, that new flair pen or those glasses or that haircut
This is not that flirtty fluffy complement to see the cute boy or girl swoon this is the insightful message that sees the rare ore—
that no one has ever mined that secret sauce in their walk that hidden creativity, that unspoken dream that open heart that wants to cry
I love you that open heart that just wants to curl up and cry I’m lost it’s seeing the first day of a new journey
its understanding how big of an accomplishment they just completed understanding what eyes hold expansion or contraction between a breath or how an imperceptible sigh lands understanding the subtle sacredness in the feeling of gratitude that is hidden under years and years of an old story pealed back for the first time in the grocery line
In a world where complements sound like a patronizing pat on the back, or the I’m okay is actually a cry for help help me please or that I’m great is really something so spectacular and Oh yes lets catch miracles while they are happening right before your eyes baby its okay to cry in gratitude
it’s understanding that when they say I’m alright and their eyes reflect the subtle light differently a dear animal they have slept with the last 12 years has just died or their mom was just diagnosed with cancer or witnessing a kindred spirit who shares a unique language without words
Two sister angels who have been waiting for a millennium to say hello so you say lets have coffee together and it is like you have known each other for ever and of course you have known each other for 10,000 life times There is never-ever a moment when hello is just a hello good is just a good or a goodbye is just a goodbye
We are all fellow travelers
Star lights living on a planet made of dreams
A moment when a person steps back and looks forward there are goosebumps, there is fire in your arms and legs suddenly there is nothing but wonder and love instantly transforming into inspiration and joy
They look back at you as tears begin to well and you say yes please feel free to cry you hold them in your arms they lean into you say thank you no one has ever said that to me before I haven’t been able to cry in 15 years since….
You just fucking made my day they say And all you say it’s all love darling its all love Thank you for reminding me that you are a gift you are so beautiful and its as if the word beautiful arrives for the first time as an authentic act of being
This moment has never occurred before This sacred magic moment was not created it always existed and it took this one small secret loving nudge a brilliant booming blooming blossom surprise of light Oh what awesome secret powers of validations we can share
Yes we all have this in common
This Changes Everything
Where is that tangled tender thread
I know the question is always changing
Is it our world and this planet
Is it that you might not love me
There are no absolutes answers are meaningless
Even when love and beauty surrounds me
I can look so comfortable
Suddenly I feel the knot in my gut
For no apparent reason
Who knows where love and grief hides
Is it the death of a friend
Or your friend or you
Even in the most blissful moment
Tigerlily, dad, mom, phoebe
The reminder of how much
a wave of sorrow
Can be a belt that just tightens
A constricting darkness across my ribs
And by the time I finish writing this
Something will change
Moment by moment
Breath by breath
Equanimity
Is the Silence Of understanding emptiness
If I could will this poem
To be anything
It would be to fill
You with the expansion Of love
Boy Breaking Glass
Truth is hard to come by I wake up often to countless illusions
At a point far down a path I never go, a town I do not know there is broken glass everywhere along this road
Along the way the sage appears and asks me
Why do you travel with so many breakable things
They are all the memories of everything I care about I say
They are useless they are meaningless they have no value here he says
The street is lined with glass windows
Behind the glass store fronts are glass jars and glass boxes
Inside the glass containers are small glass specimens of a life
Inside a life are quantum particles of my life which is really just light with edges
This is your moment that you let it all go the sage says
All the pieces you’ve held so strong and disguised
All the pieces of your hidden parts are now shards of broken glass
All the pieces breaking apart shattering around you
You were just a boy when they began to tell you who you were—
Who you can be, how to be strong and brave, don’t do it wrong,
Flirt with the girls, be a good dad, buy a new car, pay your bills
Work so hard, learn how to be seen and be don’t forget be significant
Love yourself and loose all the things the sage said
Lighten your load old man start fresh today before you die
Break the glass and just be light with edges
Go back just be that boy breaking glass
Enter the river let the water softens all the broken edges
Dissolve back into sand returning to the ocean
Standing there with your feet in the water
No edges only light you are a beacon of love returning
It is the Angels
And just saying that aloud is enough
It is the first thing we can see
Unravel old memory one thread at a time
Just stops you right there and gasp
Is it the angels that change the weather and stop traffic
It is more about how do we split the notion of time and space to spit the gauze
Oh Guides
Some moments rearrange all the living parts
Even though it seems like it is all just so random
It’s okay to cross now
Love is the only reason we are here Angels do not necessarily have wings
Oh God
It’s like we’re all here for a reason
And there we are all standing at a traffic light
Waiting for something to happen
The angels just want us to hang out together again
Learning over and over it’s all love that’s all it is big awesome love
Oh Sweet Soulmates
We carry light with us, Some may call this light others might call it divine
I love you my dear for all the lifetimes we’ve crossed paths dear soul mate meet me at 6:00 lets have hot sex tonight so the angels can talk behind our backs again
Oh Devoted Angels
You allow the other curtains
To be pulled back like a beautiful dream at christmas in chicago
Thank you
I really mean it I really do
Thank you
Oh Sometimes
I don’t understand any of this
It’s not about us humans
We are all god together
They say wait
I’ve been waiting
So long to see you again
Oh you Saints
Just as I was about to step off the curb
Witness love as it touches
The back of my neck
Minding my own business mind you
There’s your hand on my shoulder
You don’t have to
Believe in me you whisper
I believe in you
That’s all that matters
I can believe in that
all is love A Poem for my Son
Never be afraid to love
Always let inspiration swallow you whole
It’s okay to cry in moments of joy
It’s okay to cry in moments of sorrow
It’s okay to cry in moments of profound gratitude
They are all the same thing
It’s not that I want more
It’s that I want to be clearer
It’s that simple
Who Faces Death
who faces death and asks who am I who looks into the soil between their fingers and is flown away to vast ancestral memories who introduces themselves with their name and says and I am dying who were you before you were born
who can remember their face before they were told who they were who can look back and say not what I did but how did I feel who holds a sacred lotus flower knowing it is a mushroom in disguise who can count all the stars and find the answer in the leafs in the forest who can count the grains of sand and see them as the stars in the galaxy
when can you be the child and the old human as you sing along to bird songs when did you stop asking questions that have nothing to do with good or bad when is being love ever a bad thing
when can you be something that is yourself that has no meaning who can dance in the shadows and their sparks light up the sky
who can sing with such sweet love and innocence with one tear could change the world
who sees magic and understands if you say it it renders it forever gone who faces death and says yes I am not afraid of you
So Fucking Magical
When something is just so
So fucking magical
Knowing that something this so
S o mind blowing beautiful infinite love forever expanding rainbow unicorn starlight kiss sweet angel singing lullaby move mountains medicine of unfolding ancestral lifetimes sparks out of my head
Never needs to be spoken of
Just look at each other and nod
I am Still Alive
I awake to dark rumors that are unheard
They are ambiguous bubbles as my mind shifts
From a peaceful unknown to a gnawing doubt waiting
I am moored as a listless boat on the bay
The water lapping against mussels as an incessant voice
The wind agonizing apologizing
chattering shrouds slapping against the mast
Clanking clanking clanking as an incessant voice
I remember as young boy
Opening my mother’s secretary desk drawer
Opening old letters written in peacock blue ink a script
What secret messages of her broken heart I cannot read
I remember my second grade teacher’s complimentary voice
A young boy who describes the blue dress she holds My hand is still raised all these years later, waving with an answer what is a word that describes
The blue dress is tattered the young boy answers
The dress the boy the sound of a word the light
In ms Diablo’s enthusiastic smile, what a creative wonderful word sweet boy she says
And in all the chaos and uncertainty of a long and not always easy life
this one smile of admiration one small validation
Is all I ever really needed to remind me
I am still alive
Winter’s Approach
Winter’s approach
on this rainy morning
The water’s metronome drip drip drip
Somewhere out there invisible
Counting out life in rhythmic measures
How wonderful to bathe
In this moment
A child splashes rain boots at a preschool
A ballerina carefully ties her shoes
Somewhere out there a silent sound
A crying mother’s approach
In her raining mourning
holding her child
We are bound
In the brilliance and the darkness
There’s a war in Gauza
Her baby wrapped in a soiled shroud
A gauzy world behind the grey mist
her tears are in the waters
drip drip drip
In the sorrow and the love
drip drip drip
A sound
Were there’s is no place
To find
The answers to the echo
So we listen
So we love
So we listen
So we love
NoThe becoming of ocean
Receiving rivers as I
Am the totality
As the confluence of streams
I do not suffer this as loss
As the lost path is my body
As the lost light is my love
As the lost bird is the forest
As the lost wholeness is my clarity
And so what then becomes of death
When everything we lose
Becomes our greatest gift
I can remove one pebble from one path so
The fence that has weathered all the seasons
Returns back to earthiness and mycorrhizal threads
How is this entropic moment when time slows slow slowly becomes a sound like stopping and space just marches on infinitely
By no other road do we travel
How is it always us who hold sorrow and anguish gratitude and joy as they become pressed into our bones while death is there waiting
How is this the secret
All the magic scattered across eons
All the miracles never seen We have been told not to listen
How it whispers within each breath
I wake up instead
Is it just a nightmare
Leaning towards it
Another night without sleep
I have no answer but anxiety
Call 911
A close friend is in my dream and shows me their wound
Is it me
Sometimes I just have to be okay
Watching every full moon
Merry go round and round
Mary Oliver touching death again
Was the last thing I read Innocence so far away
How can they survive
I can’t look away
A sleepless night
Wisdom even further
A dark hole inside our ribs
Feeling lost and slipping
More than stitches
We are all just so human
Longing for a kiss
Dangling like a gold ring
Death beside me this morning
I saw the wound
just out of reach
I wake up instead
Snow Globe
It’s still snowing outside
We FaceTime once a week, once a month
Hey there how have you been I haven’t been able to speak
For almost two weeks she says
But you can speak today
are you cold you’re all bundled up I ask her
We have heat but we can’t turn it on
Just for four lights our electric bill was $350
It’s better to wrap ourselves in blankets
It’s not so bad really once you get used to it
I don’t’ leave my house everything is so far away
I’m losing my grip she’s says
What can I do to help I ask
It’s nice to know someone cares
Can you get a job I ask
They don’t let people like me work
What about your art are you still painting
One night a week there’s a class I have a big canvas
I am painting on that you should see it I like it
What are you painting I ask
Geometric patterns I’m using bright colors
Concentric interlocking nesting shapes
I don’t live close enough to make it there
It’s the only place I can see myself
I’m too tired to write she says
What can I do to help
There is nothing you can do
Well I need to go soon
Okay you should go then
Is there someone I can call
There is no one you can call
Is there some way I could send you money
I don’t want your money
I could never pay it back
You can pay it back I trust you
You’ve had paintings in the Tate
You stood on stage and rapped a two act play
That you wrote about the sadness of the moon
You were the youngest women to ever be tennis champion of England
We went to a pub and you beat the guy holding the table all night
And that was the first time you ever held a cue stick
You can read minds
You love dogs and all dogs stop and want to be with you
You stood in front of 10,000 people and spoke confident
what it was like to be neuro-divergent living in eleven different dysfunctional foster homes
because your father killed himself after trying to murder you and your mom died in prison
You are brilliant and a year ago you shined like a star
I’m a snow globe she said People just want to shake me up
See how special I am
So they can show to themselves
See we are still good people and feel better
About themselves when they go to sleep at night
Ahhh so so pretty snow sweet snow globe
And then they just put me back on the shelf
Then the connection was lost and when I woke up
When I was just a small boy
Normal parents 1.
When I was just a small boy
Maybe four or five years old
My mom and dad went on a long Extended world tour
Pan Am airlines
The ticket was free as long as you kept Going forward
I knew nothing of this at that time
I remember mom telling me
Nonnie and Grandma would be taking Care of us
Me and my brother just the two of us then
Nonnie took us on a month long trip
Up the California and Oregon coast
She made us keep a scrap book
And it was almost fun but
The driving was stupid boring
But Grandma couldn’t drive and we
Landed home and hours felt like days
Days felt like weeks
Months were years
My grandma was from Germany landed in Scranton
She didn’t have an accent but her voice was rough
she was short and wide
Her temper was short and bare
Wore long threadbare dresses and smelled funny
She looked ancient in a way I didn’t understand
Which is just another way to say scary
Her skin was wrinkles her jowls had layers of folds
She only cooked stew beef potatoes carrots celery
I tried at all times to stay hidden from her
I was convinced my parents were not Coming back home
I was convinced they were not just
Something mysterious laid behind
Their disappearance
It could not be explained
I was beyond sad
A state of hopeless and helpless
My world was only my bedroom and dining room where I would hide everyday under the dinner table
The table cloth just long enough
To be safely hidden
I went looking for cues to find more information
Where are my mom and dad
When are they coming back
In my searches I found my dad’s
Blaupunk short wave raidio
It had 6 buttons
First two were FM and AM
But the other four were labeled SW
SW short wave where in between static
I could hear sounds I did not understand
If I tried hard enough I could turn the mobs
And move the antenna enough to make out voices
People mostly men talking
All in different languages or if English in different accents
Or words that were obviously code
I had discovered access to mom and dad’s hidden world
Secret lives even if I didn’t understand
I could listen for information
For the endless hours
The whereabouts of my lost parents
In my searching for clues I found something
Unexplainable
Something magical
At the top of my mom’s secretary desk
They was a hidden in a small secret drawer
I had to use a chair to get on the desk part
Use other drawers like ladder steps
To reach a tiny door with a drawer
I found a purple velvet pouch
A metal box with pink and turquoise jewels inside
There was a lock on the box but after days
Of searching I found a tiny key in a drawer
My mom kept her pens and letter openers
(Which I also knew were actually weapons )
By this time I was sure my parents were not the
Reverend Dr Washer and his lovely wife
Dawn O’Brien Washer
But truly secret agents on a life threatening
Dangerous top secret mission
I had watched Man from Uncle with my dad
I knew about these things I was
I also had super powers to fight evil
I knew my parents were in trouble
But I didn’t understand the technology
Of how to use the SW buttons
But when I found the hidden box
Everything changed
I went to my hiding place under the table
I slowly opened the box
There were two decks of cards
One turquoise and one a deep purple
An intricate exotic pattern was printed
In solid gold ink against the deep color
The edges of the cards were also gold
Which made them look like solid gold bars
Even now they’re beauty has never been matched
These were obviously a treasure
These were obviously the reason they were gone
The cards had a magnetic force
They were so slippery that they actually
Floated off the wooden floor
I began to use the cards as an instruction guide
Tune into the different stations
I developed a technique
I knew then that I was here to help save their lives
My parents had to find their way home
The floating cards had emblems and numbers
Hearts, diamonds, clover and a shovel
I began to realized that by using
The shapes and numbers
With the buttons and the dials
I could find different countries
Different cities
Different languages
Different citizens
Different lives
Different time zones
Different realities
I worked diligently turning nobs
Dialing in the different frequencies
It was a very scary and difficult job
Each button represented a heart or shovel and so on
Each number a station
And underneath it all
I was certain they were dead
But I would never give up
I see this small boy, me hiding from his Grandma
Trying to find his assumed dead parents
Who had left him
With a scary human
Desperate to create some kind of technology
To cut through a vast and infinite landscape
To try to resurrect his mom and dad
The faith of a young boy to spend hours in hiding
Turning dials
And looking for portals
A way to see reality further and more clearly
Using magic cards
And some kind of time transport
To find them.
They of course were fine and I was so glad
To see them
But this beginning of aloneness I am finding
Still haunts me
Sometimes
I feel as if I’ve never left the hiding place
Under that family dining room table
But then he surprised me 3.
A few weeks before Dad died
I reminded him of this three month
Pan Am around the world vacation
Where my parents left me alone
My short wide wrinkled accent foreboding Grand ma
For three months
How desperate I was to get them home
Using his Blaupunkt radio
Those 4 SW buttons
And a deck of magical Moroccan gold leaf cards
He laughed full heartedly
He had hard short term memory dementia by then
But nostalgic memories still delighted him
Even painful ones or at least my painful ones
If we took that trip now he said
We’d be thrown in jail for child abuse
I had to laugh he was after all trying to be charming
We were watching TV
He and mom were always watching TV
Mom had died a few months earlier
Sometimes he’d ask where she was
She’s gone I’d say she’s passed on you know that
A trailer came on for a movie with a VW van
A back drop of an Alaskan mountain range
Into The Wild flashed the title
I saw that movie he said
Really I said not believing him
not really his kind of movie I was thinking
That movie was way too sad for me to watch
Yah really I say dad is eating berries
some fall in his lap he doesn’t notice
So sad but it really reminds me of when you came home from your trip to Mexico
They wheeled you off the plane in a wheelchair
You were so skinny
We took you straight to the hospital
They didn’t know what was wrong
I really thought you were going to die
I was going to die? I asked shocked
dad it might have been traumatic
I never thought I was going to die
You were in the hospital for a long time
You couldn’t walk you had kind of arthritis
Yeah my knee was a mess
Doctor said my spine would fuse up
I’d be a hunchback
one leg would grow shorter
But no one mentioned death to me I laughed
Well now you know he said not laughing
So you should know
I’m writing this poem
If you could call it this a poem
On my iPhone one finger at a time
Not very Jack keroackian
But I like the one letter at a time approach
There’s a fire in the fireplace
Jenny and I are in Elk
New Years Eve is in two days
It rained all day Jenny never got out of her PJs
And bathrobe I got her for Christmas
A perfect day she says
I went out right as it began to rain
I prepped a pork belly with some red spicy dry rub put that with some potatoes in the oven
500 for 15 minutes then down to 275 and left
I forage for mushrooms here I’m only looking for one
Hedgehogs they’re a favorite
And I know a spot
There are not a lot of people who walk these woods
A year can change things and a fallen tree
Lush new growth growing in speed with coastal fog
And El Niño winters
The old road cut used for hauling out lumber
Is overgrown in places as if it never existed
Hedgehogs and Bolettes grow in conifer duff
Chanterelles in the coastal live oak
The rain isn’t bothersome under the conifer
I have to wear a hood to keep the rain off my neck
My knee is wobbly and I walk slow
It is difficult not to trip
Carefully with intention
not just for the hedgehogs
But also this knee of mine is a mystery
Knee replacement western medicine at its best
They don’t tell you it is severe trauma
Amputate the leg spread the tendons and muscles
Attach an implant and glue you back together
Five months in I go in for my six week check up
My knee has been abnormally swollen
Scar tissue is dried blood and it’s numb and ugly
He looks at my knee and says we have a problem
I had walked in feeling good
We’re going to Taos New Mexico in a few days
Your knee cap has slid off
That’s not good
It has to be fixed you can’t heal like this
poem not finished a Work in Progress
