Saturday, February 28, 2009

The Measure

I've always had this great fear of dropping a pebble of self into this vast ocean and rippling it in a direction contrary to where it need go. The ticking clock and limited time on this earthly plane call for decisive action and purposeful steps. I know nothing of my place in it all, only that at times I feel like disappearing into backgrounds and fading into gray, allowing no trace of self to exist. To cleanse of all attachment and prepare the journey toward a deliberate and conscious life. I take action now. Action...the great bearer of truth and attractor of guidance. Words vacant of action are absent of meaning.

Friday, February 20, 2009

(part one)

Dear Friend,
In desperate moments, when all hope seems lost,
you make everything better.
And dear, you're right. No matter how alone we feel,
we are never alone.
You are a tower of strength when all else crumbles.
And dear, I think I'm good enough now.
Sifting through the aftermath, this unrecognizable reflection,
you remember who I am.
And dear, your ocean seems limitless.
Reparation is slow, and yet you stomach the journey.
And dear, my love for you is endless.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

My Africa

I sit in this white limo parked in front of the church, dressed in all black. Beyond the tinted calm is a sea of people shifting with hello's and goodbye's. Beautiful ebony people. They are my people. My family. Old faces, new faces. I want to know them, know their lives. The love I have for them seeks a thundering voice. Such grace and poise they have, each dressed in elegant shiny suits, elaborate hats decorated with folds of fabric and sequence. My, if I could be like them. My africa. Inside the church the heavenly sound of organ and voices raise in praise of the Lord, yielding thanks and honor to the life of Emma Jean Anderson. I am humbled to be here and to witness such a moment.

Monday, February 09, 2009

Dear Friend,

I see myself in you. I want to tell you what I wish you had told me many years ago....."wait."

Friday, February 06, 2009

Emma Jean Anderson, 1920-2009

With heavy breathing and tears flowing I listened to my mother utter the words on the other end of the phone tonight. I knew it was coming, we all did. But no matter how far reaching my vision into the future has been, I wasn't ready to hear these words.

When I sat next to you in the hospice two months ago, I studied your face. Traced the contours of your hands. Whispered in your ear that I loved you. I asked, "How are you doing Mema?" You answered with faint breath, "Not too bad." I thanked you for your wisdom, support and patience. For your love and strength. Wiped the sweat from your brow with a damp cloth. All the while imagining your life—my God, what it must've been like. How something you did had allowed my mother to seek. And how my mother seeking had led her to find Baha'u'llah. And how finding Him had changed her forever. And how her change had been implanted in me. And how that implanting has blessed me with recognition. And how the blessing of recognizing Him, has ignited in me a love so great it consumes me to tears and aches my chest. You, this one precious soul, have saved my life. I am blessed solely because of you.

I never heard you complain...ever. You never spoke an ill word about anyone. You were ever giving. You are the definition of pure and utter self-effacement and love. You are the purest love and I love you Mema.

Monday, February 02, 2009

Sutton

I've been sleeping on the couch for the last 8 or 9 weeks. It's not like I don't have a bed. I've got a very comfy bed in fact. One of those tempurpedic mattresses. After reading, I like to watch a bit of TV before going to sleep. It keeps me company when I need a break from the silence. And sleeping in front of it is like having a warm body to sleep next to.

Sunday, February 01, 2009

Once

I lost myself in a world of work and stress and my blog went by the waste side. Unused. Underappreciated. A once fervent interest has given way to new distractions in the form of Facebook and Craigslist. But no distraction can change the fact that I'm lonely today. My blog is a comfort. Alone. Yes, I am alone. More alone than I've ever been or felt. Alone with my thoughts. Alone with my feelings. It's scary. It's thrilling. I like it. No...I love it! I love the peace. The silence. The loneliness. I like reading again. I like discovering my interests once more. My imagination is giving way to creation in the form of art. I love my time alone. Yes, I love the aloneness. I often wonder if it is possible for someone to live in this aloneness with me. Can someone? Someone to trust, to open one's self up to completely? My heart urges me.