where to begin?

i have once again been entranced by the onset of fall
the neverendingly enticing blue shadow evening of the west
beckoning me
sending thunder beings out in search of
me in search of myself

why this again?
every year brings with it these shadows

i can only welcome them.

and remember that i find comfort in the still hot smell of juniper thick in my nostrils in the desert
and the new familiar chill that brings the aspen trees their yellow gift to give
and the far away thought of winter and snow
and hunkering.

it is time to let the autumnal waters do their healing
wash away flakes of heart that have been around too long

no more resistance

where to begin?

ode to mary oliver

some day that will be the title of a poem i write
but for now i share a poem that was read in my presence
and struck a heart chord for me:

West Wind #2

You are young.  So you know everything.  You leap

into the boat and begin rowing.  But listen to me.

Without fanfare, without embarrassment, without

any doubt, I talk directly to your soul.  Listen to me.

Lift the oars from the water, let your arms rest, and

your heart, and heart’s little intelligence, and listen to

me.  There is life without love.  It is not worth a bent

penny, or a scuffed shoe.  It is not worth the body of a

dead dog nine days unburied.  When you hear, a mile

away and still out of sight, the churn of the water

as it begins to swirl and roil, fretting around the

sharp rocks – when you hear that unmistakable

pounding – when you feel the mist on your mouth

and sense ahead the embattlement, the long falls

plunging and steaming – then row, row for your life

toward it.

~ Mary Oliver ~

love for yourself can be rowing with all your might towards the storm? i like it.

another untitled rather personal poem i wanted to share

how can i be like the mountain?
one of the only things in this world i have gotten down on my knees and bowed to
how can i be like the lake that just
is
and sparkles when
it rains and
lets it all flow in then flow out

how can i be like the wind that sets a chill
down my bones as it
carresses my cheeks then
is off on its merry way again?

how can i be like the yellow on this
hillside-the autumnal fading
of the skunk cabbage in the high country-
only to die, and grow again
fed by stark and shadowy
winter?

how can i be like the thunder
sending its dance through the valley
always following the light-
ning

how can i be like the summer time-
green, lush, moist with the earthy kiss
always leaving
always coming back

how can i welcome the chills all over my body
the pit at the center of my stomach
the looming storm
how can i welcome winter back
year after year
and always expect summer
and welcome back love
and moist dirt earthy kisses

how can i sit in the rain
and know when it is time to stop
sitting in the rain?

how do i know when i have sat in the rain long enough?

another almost rainy day in durango

not to say that this happens frequently by any means in a place like durango, but the past two days have been one of the 60 non-days of sunshine in a while.  i can't say i mind it- it matches my own familiar melancholy, and i appreciate the excuse it gives me to sit in a coffee shop and drink a good pour over house blend, and write.  lil miss lori cheever explained to me the other day that my blog was like a quick glance on the inner workings of my mind- i am not so sure how i feel about that, but i do know that it is turning into quite the lil hobby and that being real and relatively vulnerable in most of my endeavors is kind of how i work.  it doesn't always work out in my best interest, but i think i am starting to get the hang of it more and more... allowing it to be my greatest gift and NOT my greatest demise. 
i have been trying to think of a way that i can hone in my blog a little bit more...
i want to be able to offer something to people who read this, other than lil pieces of my heart that someone might nor really want or feel awkward about recieving.  but that might mean i have to learn a skill or trade or topic to cover like knitting, or baking pies, or canning food, or politics, or sex, well enough to be able to teach it... and i dont quite have the time for that at the moment seeing as i am about to be single and moving to hawaii.  although, there are a plethora of skills and trades and knowings of the world that i would love to explore and share and know well enough to teach (politics maybe not so much... but i do need to work on my naivete of the subject).  ok moving on from my incessant rambling.. i do have something i wanted to offer to anybody who comes across this post.
 it has to do with the melancholy of this almost rainy day, and the soft footsteps of autumn approaching-the slightly less vibrantly green trees, the way the day looks like it posseses a bite of chill to it, but really it is just a kiss, the fact that we can ride phil's world in the mid-day sun, and find a parking spot on main on a saturday, the little hole in my heart that has begun to form in the absense of summer sweat, and watching my friends and loved ones go through new cycles, endings to form new beginnings, closing doors to open new ones, times they are a-changing... so here is a little prayer... for anyone and everyone experiencing transition, little and larger holes in the heart, endings for beginnings, the bite of loneliness instead of the kiss of partnership... someday i will write my own, for now i borrow the words of Rabbi Rami M. Shapiro:

Life and death,
a twisted vine sharing a single root.

A water bright green
stretching to top a twisted yellow
only to wither itself
as another green unfolds overhead.

One leaf atop another
yet under the next;
a vibrant tapestry of arcs and falls
all in the act of becoming.

Death is the passing of life.
And life
is the stringing together of so many little passings. 

coffee steak and tears

i think jack kerouac could maybe have taken this on a bit better than me, but nonetheless i am going to give it a shot- my writing tends to take on the form of stream of consciousness, and when i just let my mind relax into, it my hands can truly become an extension of my heart even if they are typing and creating and translating onto a screen although i do prefer a ball-point pen and acid-free paper.  poetry is sometimes the easier venue, and sometimes a just ramble will do the trick...maybe a bit of both- 

the feeling of coffee in my gut right now actually brings me back to that wet tuesday morning among the ponderosa pines, the lone woman (of which there is no doubt i am proud) amongst my tears and the tears of 6 men.  its not very often that a sacred experience such as that invites you to sit in on its sacred circle.
how lucky we are, the thought and truth of all of us present in that extended moment.  i walked in on a cloud of smoke from the grill upon which steaks were being prepared for a hardy last breakfast with derek daley.  it is also the last time i will sit in that circle next to the cabin with my love, evan, and trusty co-workers/friends billy, hunter, karl, wes... we are all embarking on transition, the edge of newness, the extenstion of our boundaries and comfort zones-the feeding frenzy for the soul- the image of each of us riding into the sunset on a trusty steed was planted in my head yesterday as hunter composed his version of coffee steak and tears, and the fact that we were all given a willow spirit horse, a little gift, a little common token of gratitude and connection. 
it all started in circles, for all of us as we began our journey at open sky.  different circles at different times, and we all communed together "a community from within" in this one circle, the pinnacle of our time at open sky, the opening of our hearts, the relaxation of our indigenous wild spirits in the place they are most welcome.  i speak for everyone in this moment because this was my genuine experience of this particular circle, and i come back to speaking only for myself.

how lucky am i?
to be a raw witness and
witness the raw, and
be a seeker of truth among
other truth seekers

and walk a path paved
by orion himself in the
delaying darkness of a tuesday
dew morning

and be on the brink of
change
and watch changing
men walking
the path paved by the setting
sun and rising
smoke

keep accepting the
invitation to
sit in circles

keep pushing your
boundaries and
exploring the
feeding frenzy of the soul

open your eyes to tears

open your ears to the breeze

i love you all.
thank you for sharing yourselves with me.