From 7/17

One of the most unexpectedly nice nights happened last night when my swedish, couch surfing friend, Otto came over and we slept under the stars and saw 10 shooting stars! Amazing how cool it gets at night in NM in July and how beneficial body warmth is. I'm fairly tired today though. The hyena sounding coyotes didn't keep quiet last night and Riley dog didn't miss a chance to bark at them. Now I'm in Albuquerque waiting on the front steps for a friend to get home.

Where is my poetry state of mind? 

There go the ants around my feet.

They were there this morning at 850 C Chamisa too.

Its fun to watch them going busily back and forth

With an intensity of seemingly aimless direction.

Back to last night. We took the couch cushions outside.

And the white down comforter.

And the soft, auburn agora blanket. 

Spread them out. 

And we told stories. What to tell about?

Talk about a time when you came close to death?

A time you fell in love while traveling?

The most memorable person you met on a trip?

And then we wound up on the topic of friends.

How sometimes the friendship stays,

and sometimes it fades afterwards.

How sometimes you feel that chemistry

and sometimes you don't.

How sometimes someone else loves you

And you don't love them back.

Or the other way around.

Before saying good night, he offered,

And remember, if you get cold, you can hug me.

Woke up in the middle of the night to being held

Coyotes yipping eerily, in the arroyo just to our right.

That surprise when someone touches you in the dark,

And you feel it an instant before you feel it.

Such a deep beauty in touch - platonic or romantic and

Sometimes, we don't enjoy it enough in this world.

This is the story from last night. 

Its good to have this time to write. Make the time for creativity and it will come. Create the space for peace and it will arrive. Be open for abundance, believe you are worthy, and it will appear. 

Drove so speedy down highway 25. To Arrive. Only to wait. Now I have this unexpected time to sit on the porch and write until my friend comes home to unlock the door.

From 7/4/09

Matt Costa on Pandora radio right now. Sun shining through my window. A cup of hot ginger tea and David Sedaris "When you are Engulfed by Flames" by my side. Happy Freedom Day. And I'm house sitting free to do as I please. Can I believe this is where I'm staying? It seems to come in waves, the eb and flow of abundance. I love the community of friends here. Sometimes I can be so reckless and risky. Sometimes I can go so fast. Its good to just be quiet and write in this big, beautiful home.

I am floating.

This music is carrying me

To the faraway nearby

Lying on a pillow on the floor

Of someone else's living room

On the Fourth of July

Someone else's stereo 

Feeding my Macbook Pro.

No signal states the T.V. Screen.

No signal is my signal is it?

Piano notes, wish I could play.

Not right now, but someday.

good morning

from 7/3/09

Look at the blue sky. So beautiful. A few little birds are hopping around the garden hose.

observation

I think partly why last summer was sooo rich and full was because I did not check my email and internet very often. I did not have it reliably at my house then. Now I do. I am going to make an effort never to have it be the first thing I habitually do in the morning. It burns a lot of minutes before I know it - and its not healthy when it becomes like that. I think meditation will be a better way to start the day.

house sitting

From 6/28

How am I here in this beautiful space? Quiet, except for trees rustling outside. In a huge room full of philosophical books, elegant furniture. I am sitting on a high southwestern bed commanded by a red/black/grey Pendleton wool blanket and 8 pillows. Fine art photography. A bathroom with new mexican style tile sink and walls. A basket of soaps from hotels around the planet. Warm, chestnut-toned vigas creaking with every sweep of wind. How am I here? I am unbelievably grateful to be here. It hardly seems real. Why the slight sadness? Is it because of the awareness of how ephemeral and fleeting this time is? Enjoy being here. There is nothing but the present moment. I'm excited to house sit for Ted and Wendy next week, a house to myself another time. I'm excited for my dad to visit. I am saying yes to life.

Exchanges

Tonight, I went to a potluck/gathering/party. I was talking to a Peruvian woman, whose child played limbo with other children in the living room. She asked me, "How old are you?" For kicks, I asked, "How old do you think I am?" She replied, "mid-twenties, 24 or 25." "Close, I'm 26." 

"I can tell you are young. You still have a light in your eyes."

"I do? You mean it will go away? Does it always go away?"

"Yes, it goes away."

"But, you still have a light in your eyes." I said.

"No, no. I only have it sometimes when I'm with the kids. You have that light still, where every thing is new." She replied.

"You're right about that, there is so much that is new to me." I know that light that's she's talking about. I know I've lost it sometimes in my life. I also know that light doesn't go away just because you reach a certain age. I know ancient people who still have it. It doesn't have to go away. Its a mindset thing and a life style thing. It made me very happy to know that someone commented on the light in my eyes. 

Child.

Later, at the same party, I was talking to my new swedish friend, Otto, whom I met through couchsurfing. We were talking about how we like to be around people, but we also need space to recharge. And we were talking about what kind of people we did and didn't like to be around. I said, "At least there are some guys here this time for you to talk to." The previous times we'd met, he had hung out with me and my friends, who happened to be all girls those times.

"No, its okay really. I'm used to being in groups with women. If there's at least one woman in a group of men, they'll be okay. Otherwise they don't show their emotions. And I do. They want to appear tough. I don't."

"Is it the same way in the U.S. as Sweden do you think? So far?" (He's only been in the states 3 weeks). I wanted to know his opinion.

"Yes, so far, I think yes."

"Well, that's great you already figured that out and that you are so comfortable with yourself." To myself, I was thinking, he is so unself-conscious. It is my goal to be more like that. Then I added, "I think men can become less tough, maybe as they become older. I mean, my dad is not like that."

"Yes," Otto agreed. "As we become more comfortable with ourselves."

Wise child.

What is something nearly everyone has tried, but hardly anyone know what it tastes like?

David Sedaris spoke for an hour at Collected Works, a book store in down town Santa Fe, on Thursday, free. I listened. I think everyone felt highly entertained. He is fantastically funny. And thought-provoking. Ordinary and mundane to extra-ordinary. There you go.

The theme of this book tour, he said, is breast milk. He's been collecting and retelling the stories people come up and share with him. It occurred to me (when he first embarked on this subject) that breast milk is a substance that nearly everyone has tried, but hardly anyone knows how it tastes. Strange huh? 

As he kept telling stories, I realized more people than I thought did know what it tastes like, including David Sedaris himself who obliged a fan when she brought him a glass.

What surprised me more than trying breast milk, was the audience's reaction to the stories of women putting it in their coffee or the their pancakes. Upon hearing about trying breast milk, so much of the audience portrayed looks of disgust, wrinkled noses, murmurs of Ew and shaking of heads. I didn't expect this in Santa Fe. 

How is it that we drink cow milk and dairy queen soft serve (and corn syrup) and we think breast milk is gross? When our children drink it and we drank it? Its not any more natural to drink cow or goat milk. We are the only species that drink milk as adults - besides pigs who will consume nearly anything.