writing that feels like you’re having a deep convo with someone, very honest and sad and silly and familiar.
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I have many Ideas. I ponder over them like an obsessive collector; organizing, re-organizing, packing them into words so the meaning is captured, transferable. Most of my transformative experiences are unexplainable - how does one capture the depth of a still, silent night? The whispering of leaves in warm summer breezes. Vague feelings of wholism while sitting in the grass, photosynthesizing like plant ancestors - a fish swims without direction. Many call it god but the church is alienating; the word massacred and butchered beyond the recognition of what it once meant.
One idea I have kept unmolested by the opinions of others, is that these holistic experiences in nature, with friends, live music shows, where the pulse of life beats strongly, are everything. An anchor point for a life well lived. It’s not enough to just be in nature, alchemizing the circumstance missing the key ingredient. A couple of friends and I went on a trip to where the ocean went on forever, unbroken horizon. We were down by the water, sunset and glistening, warmth of the sun and sand beneath my feet. But it was nothing more than looking. I did not have access to this other way of being - locked out, truthfully, by being eaten alive by the stress of exams and stewing in the feelings of being unlovable. It is somehow within you; the trees and ocean reflect it back to me. A quality of self brought out by sincerity and solitude. It’s everything, reflected in everything worthwhile.
Apr 17, 2024
a few years back, i met a wandering poet in new orleans. after talking for a bit, he wrote this for me. to this day, it is still one of my most treasured possessions.
it’s strange how connected we all are. the human experience is not so singular or unique. and that is kind of comforting.
Jan 20, 2025
In my most vulnerable moments (intoxicated, 3am, on an airplane, etc.), I remember all of my “love you”s; each person I’ve held tenderly in my heart and body; each friend I’ve shared late nights and soul secrets with. Do they know that they still hold a piece of me, that I still hold a piece of them? Do they know that the hum of a song, or the smell of backwoods, or the words on a page conjure their being in my mind? Do they know how often I think of them, how often I jog my mind back a few months or years to our casual and frequent visits? Our traditions? What comes of these faded soul ties; do I fumble with the frays and let go? Do I memorialize them in some kind of journal, a photo, an occasional phone call? How do I say goodbye to all of my ”love you”s?
Jan 4, 2025
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You would think this would be sensory overload but it’s not it’s just delight after delight. Currently my beverage rotation in the morning includes water, orange juice, a lemon-honey-apple-cider-vinegar drink, and iced coffee. Not necessarily in that order but coffee always last. And apple cider vinegar usually first.
Apr 9, 2024
