Greener Grass

    The world seems to be engulfed in flames. Plainly and in a metaphorical sense: on fire. Driving down the gloom-riddled streets of home, I wondered where all the good news went. When I learn of a beautiful occurrence, when someone falls in love, a bone heals, why do I find myself with the sense of shock? The two constants of good and bad are but illusions when you hear it from the Buddha and all the others who finally yanked free from their own maya but if all of that is true then why is the Earth ON FIRE?

    I'm not burning up but I can unmistakably feel heat rising all around. People yelling when they could be kissing. That sort of thing. Politics. Politics. Politics. Politics and horror. Will we ever surrender to the wind? Another illusion yet is that I was born in the wrong age. I've always said I would've done better holding a candle in the hallway to get a drink of water from the kitchen. Technology both frightens and delights me. Another sentiment today was one of mourning as I stood frozen in place at my work and realized how much smarter I would be if I never had a phone. Were we actually connected before all of this? We were still killing each other over oil but maybe we looked into each other's eyes more. Maybe some of this was slower. Gentler. 

    The happiest place I can be (subject to change because I haven't been to India yet) is alone in my house. Every light turned off, skin scrubbed clean, wrapped tightly in a loving fabric, with my journal in front of me. Whenever the world is too much and the good news seems to have gotten lost en route, I close my eyes and ask to be shown where the love is. This has become a common visualization practice for me to gain a broader sense of life... because it is still terribly beautiful no matter how atrocious. With eyes closed and my head in the ceiling I saw:

Shiva dancing with one thousand arms, unicorns drinking sugar from a waterfall, towers of rock in Joshua Tree on a wide open plain, the quiet of outer space, my body as complete, a lotus flower opening, a jar of peanut butter, aging and dying. 

    I, a twenty-four year old woman, can not heal the world today. I can not heal the world and it hurts my feelings. What I can always do is understand why density exists. It is something I always seem to write about but only because this is a constant reckoning for me. I find it very confronting no matter how often I look it in the face and say, "I understand". I'm lucky enough to experience it and still believe in greener grass. I will let the density eat me alive but I will never be jaded. I meet lovely people with hope in their eyes everyday. We look to each other and a cord of communion grows. We're all suffering in some way but as my old friend would say, "Goddamn it, the sun's gonna shine. If you can't find yours, you can borrow some of mine."

Tidepool

    My eyebrows are back and the world is different now. I've never been so homesick in my entire life. I missed my blue, shaggy carpet. The feeling of hugging Savannah. Fogging up every window in my house while making hot stew. I make stew like it's the last one I'll ever get to make. The other night I sat at my alter and mediated for a long time. God met me somewhere in the middle and laughed at me, lovingly.

     "Long vacation?"

"I'm sorry it's been so long. I get distracted towards the end of the year. You're still very real to me."

I apologized. It's never been my intention to only commune with God when I am tired and desperate. I want to reach out and touch God at the height of my joy, not when I'm anxious on a plane.

    I am in love and it feels sustainable this time. Like it isn't going anywhere when I turn my back to go write something down. No, it is not some antsy child in constant need of entertainment. It's more like a tidepool. Something with it's own community. With waves of grand elation flooding everything on occasion but mostly with an ecosystem in utter support and serenity. I am no longer struggling to keep dying things breathing. This thing has lungs. 

    Starting this year I find myself broke and yet so spiritually wealthy. I've been wondering if anyone can really reach nirvana on their own accord. The moments in my life where wisdom has punched me in my face have usually been from a friend's mouth unto my ears. I need people to show me God everyday through their laughter and confusion. Through surrender and generosity. 

    Over the holiday I mediated in a moment of shakiness and asked God to show me where the love is. This can be a cruel, shallow place. One where people idealize killing, hurting, breaking what stands in tact. I asked to show me how abundant and glorious my life is outside of this frustrating moment, outside of the noise of desperation. I saw my love and I saying beautiful words to each other, dolphins playing, a secluded cabin in the forest with moss engulfing the roof and front steps. I saw my future bookshelf. The espresso machine at my work. My cat laying in a patch of sun. There is one word for this year and that is: enjoy. There is so much to beam. Let's know what we have.