Where Am I?

Without needing to ask
Could you figure out why
I called you tonight?
No? Good, neither can I.
Without direction, sometimes
Poetry takes you places
You don't wish to visit.
Starting with one idea,
but finding another
Before pen even meets paper
Anger, pain, sadness, joy
All flow without prejudice or price
Words arrive, thoughts left open
For interpretation, for misuse
A poet's gift is also a curse
Lacking definition, words undefined
Can be twisted
And in the end
You look back
And can't seem to find
The path you intended
To Travel.

Wet Word Play

There is grace in the world,
Lying unseen in the clouds
Flowing in channels underground
Like floodwaters, rising unexpectedly
Sometimes threatening to drown us
Second chances pour from the sky
Confused, you stumble
Searching for a source, a cause
A reason
Knee deep in forgiveness, you start to swim
Powerless, you are carried onward by the current
Minutes, hours, days later
You find your footing
Standing, you look around.
The hills glow, soaking in the beauty
Rained down upon them
Smile cracks, and you begin to laugh.
You run, you dive into the current
And let yourself be carried away
By grace

Life is not the Movies

Life isn't like the movies. Stuff doesn't always happen as part of some master plan. Stuff doesn't blow up as you walk away from it. Things aren't always black and white and sometimes there isn't a happy ending. Sad things happen to all of us, but they don't have to detract from the good things that happen. For my Movie/Life, something sad happened recently. (Full disclosure: it was entirely my fault.) But things aren't all sad in this moment. I have come out of it with a wonderful best friend. So there is a good that has not been lessened by a bad. My movie doesn't end with a dramatic explosion or with a romantic kiss in the rain. Mine ended on a porch, on a calm night. No explosions. And now the cast is free to work on another project.

Happy Llama Time

The Captain has Turned on the "Fasten Seatbelts" Sign

One of the coolest things about flying is that you can see shadows from the clouds. Most of the time, we don't even notice them, but from 24,000 feet they are easy to spot. It's a neat metaphor for changing perspectives. When you travel, no matter how much of yourself you bring along in your bubble, you still encounter new things. Sometimes travel can be good because it helps "open your eyes to new possibilities." That sounds like something on an ad for a travel company, but it has some truth to it. For me it doesn't mean that just because I flew across the county I will have an entirely new outlook on life. It might for you, who knows, right? But for me the travel gives me some space, both physically and mentally. Space can be good. While being close to a topic can make it easier to understand, space and time is needed to process and reflect on things. For me, two weeks in California away from almost all civilization has been really helpful in reflecting on my past three years. Now I feel (a little) more prepared to dive into my college essays. Hopefully 24,000 feet is enough space for me.

Posted from 24,000 Feet above Colorado

An Evening in the Orchard

This may be the last time I get any real rest for the next few days. Tomorrow, my mom's entire family will descend in force on my current retreat, my grandpa's wonderful house hidden away in the hills of southern California. There will be over 15 people living here by this time tomorrow and my current living space, a small trailer in the orchard, will have to be shared with my brother. Oh joy. It's nice to be disconnected from the world for a change. I must admit, I'm not totally of the grid (as this post certainly attests to. But I only check my email and Facebook once in the evening, and overall try to spend very little time online. It has been nice to just enjoy the pool, and the peace, and the satellite television. I should probably start working on some of my college essays and finish up my summer reading while I am here, but so far the willpower to do so has escaped me. Maybe the influx of people, and the anticipated denial of the T.V. that will surely come with it, will be enough to force me to write or read.

May your night bring you rest and your dreams, joy.

Requiescat in pace

Death is cliche
Even that is cliche
It's all been said
Whispered in hushed tones
Grief and sorror mingle indiscriminately
With happy memories
It comes to us all
Life's great cliche
We all die in the end
It's hard to separate Death from Morbid
Death, while sad
Carries with it some happiness
Remember man that you are dust
And unto dust you shall return
To be blown about as joyous thoughts
And smiling memories
Through endless years and on countless tongues
Person to thought
Unending

Requiescat in pace
Uncle Norb