“At this time and at this period we must avail ourselves of this most great opportunity. We must not sit inactive for one moment; we must sever ourselves from composure, rest, tranquility, goods, property, life and attachment to material things. We must sacrifice everything to His Highness, the Possessor of existence, so that the powers of the Kingdom may show greater penetration and the brilliant effulgence of this New Cycle may illumine the worlds of minds and ideals.”

~ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá

You Haven’t Told Me Anything

In a pearl grey room one afternoon.
One afternoon, what you gonna do?
I hang on your words but there’s nothing new.

You take a beautiful thing, pull off a wing.
Pull of a wing; safety pin.
It'll never shine quite as bright again.

But you haven’t told me anything,
that I didn’t already know.
No you haven’t said a single thing,
that I didn’t already know.

Everything I love’s stuck in the mud.
Stuck in the mud, stuck in a rut.
I’m a piece in your puzzle or a paper cut.

So same time next week, kiss on the cheek,
kiss on the cheek; say after me:
“Everything’s tied up nice and neat.”

But you haven’t told me anything,
that I didn’t already know.
No you haven’t sold me anything,
that I didn’t already own.

I feel for you, I really do.
Nothing adds up like you want it to.
No words can mend this fix I’m in.
Give me your worst I won’t even blink,
right between the eyes I won't feel a thing.

Because you haven’t told me anything,
that I didn’t already know.
No you haven’t said a single thing,
that I didn’t already know.

No you haven’t told me anything...
No you haven’t told me anything...

No you haven’t told me anything...
No you haven’t told me anything...

~ Keane

Vent for the Day

Yelling and screaming is barbaric, really. The most unnatural thing. Even worse, the ear-full I get on the phone. We are so passed that point, really. There isn't enough fuel to run that engine. I will be the bad guy if it makes it easier to let go. But let go you must. Of anger, of pain, of everything. Be calm. Be sane. Be kind. Be human, for Christ's sake. Who the hell has the energy anyway?

For Me

It is 1:47am and not a wink of sleep will be had until surely 3:30am. My new schedule. It doesn't pester me anymore. It just is. A welcoming offer and I accept. Touche my dear little night that won't let go of me. You must really enjoy my company. While everyone else rest peacefully in silence, you beckon me to play, to write, to fumble, to read, to sift, to search. Tonight is for me. The other nights I might have dedicated creativity to the world. But tonight, it is for me. The beginnings of a song emerge. And for the first time in a long time, there is no judging. Is it catchy? Well-paced? Interesting chord progression? Connected message? It is simply a little gem waiting for me in my cut out. Little nugget of truth and life patiently sitting for me to indulge. And I will, tonight.

Quick Pause

At a crossroad. Where will this path lead? Once closer to my dreams? My destiny? To the truth of my purpose on this existent plane, I hope. I move. Movement will attract guidance. The Truth is my guiding compass through the thick of time. Fleeting moments countdown. No room for procrastination here. Must stay open. Must stay open. Must stay open. I must tell myself that. It's all too easy for me to fall off. Both a weakness and a strength. Must stay open. I buckle up. It's the safe thing to do. I grab hold of the handle. It will brace me as I propel. Swelling joy bubbles inside. Bursts through me...yeeeeeehaaaaaw!

Let’s Begin

A shower always brings me back to life. I've come to realize when you work from home strange things can happen. Your days begin to run together. Your routine is lost. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?? I was supposed to have time to make time for everything else. And sure, I'm used to being up the wee hours of the night. It's always been that way. But dang! 4am? 5am? I cannot for the life of me seem to go to bed at a decent hour lately. I've tried staying up all through the night into the next day in the hopes that come 9pm, 10pm, my eyes would start to get heavy and I'd have gathered up enough expounded energy, to close my eyes and sleep soundly through the night. Hasn't worked. When was 3 hours sleep enough for me to function? Don't seem to recall that one. Oh yeah, NEVER, that's when.

Dear Stranger,

Do something impavid today. Be heroic and grand. Or simple and quiet. Get the shit kicked out of you. Or better, get your heart broken. Pick up the phone and call someone you keep meaning to. Turn the tv off. Play a song in a different key. Send an email out of the blue. Listen to a random station. Wish someone a happy birthday and be months off. Open a book anywhere in the middle and find some meaning in it. Be scared and face it. Seek rejection and relish in its lesson. Regroup. Rethink. Refeel. Relive. Then, live anew. 

pa•tience –noun

1. the quality of being patient, as bearing of provocation, annoyance, misfortune, or pain, without complaint, loss of temper, irritation, or the like.

2. an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay: to have patience with a slow learner.

3. quiet steady perseverance; even-tempered care; diligence: to work with patience.

4. bearing pains or trials calmly or without complaint

5. manifesting forbearance under provocation or strain

6. not hasty or impetuous

7. steadfast despite opposition, difficulty, or adversity

8. able or willing to bear

This

The human touch is something you don't realize you miss until it's gone. However, this is not the touch I am so compelled to describe. No, not just any touch. The touch. I witnessed it for the first time with this guy and girl at the airport a couple days ago. They were dressed in what might be classified as the ‟unkempt hippie look” and I proceeded to categorize them as organic food-eating, anti-soap, anti-establishment, anti-anything modern world individuals, something I reluctantly admit now. And while they very well may have been those things, it was not for me to unravel or judge. What is the need man has to box things in? This must be eliminated. Anyways, what really struck me the most about them was their exchange with one another. It was shocking, really. Not because it was coming from them, but the act itself would've shocked most observant individuals. The exchange didn't involve an overt display of tongue or a rubdown that might merit a ‟get a room” rebuttal. No, this exchange was so clear. So pure. So subtle. She was sitting across from him at a table situated in front of the bistro stand at gate 37. He spoke and between sentences would occasionally drop his head boyishly and look up at her with grinning admiration from beneath his perfectly round spectacles. He looked at her as though she were a majestic sunset, with utter devotion and contemplation. I am always moved when a man can do this. Women often display gestures of this nature easily. But I so adore this sentiment coming from a man. She grinned back at him. Some words were exchanged. I imagined it was something to the effect of “I'll go get it. You stay here.” And then it happened. The exchange. She stood to her feet and before she parted to the vending machine or snack stand to get whatever had created this moment, she walked over to him. She sat softly on the edge of his lap, and gave him the most endearing kiss on the cheek and then, the warmest embrace I've ever witnessed between two people was shared. When she hugged him, her hands did not merely gather around his neck. She slowly grabbed the back of his head and intertwined her fingers around it. He gently brushed the strands of hair behind her ear. She cupped his cheek in her hand while hers met the other side of his face. He nestled his head in the warmth curvature of her neck and gave her a gentle kiss. It was breathtaking. Something I've never before seen. Yes, one sees people hug and kiss everyday. We are bombarded daily by images and characters of romance and love, lust and sex. But this was something else. Something different. Something of another kind. Perhaps not ever captured in even the most romantic of movies or pictures. It was enchantment. The kind of uninhibited embrace. At one moment it was unclear if she would return. Perhaps they were taking two separate flights and this was the final goodbye before she walked to her own gate. Yet, the beauty was in that this was not a last goodbye. No two-flight-farewell. Just simplicity. For the only reason. There was peace and calm between them. A love that beamed. I was listening to ‟Black Tables” by Other Lives at that moment and it became a soundtrack for the love story I was witnessing. The water began to swell. Lost in their romance. It was clear to me that one mustn't settle for anything less. Yes, I want the service partner, the pioneer companion, the best friend, the lover, and...this.

Day 348

Writing a song can sometimes come easily and sometimes not so much. Most of the time not so much! I've been stashed away in my apartment the last two weeks trying to write (mind you, I almost work from home now, so it's much easier to fall off). I've closed myself to the world outside in an effort to focus on the world inside, and tap into whatever emotions therein lie. It's a daunting challenge, so I take breaks every so often. Go out into the world, attend and participate in community activities, live life a bit, observe people, and then come back and lock myself up once more to process. I haven't this down to any science yet by no means. Yet, I am experimenting in an effort to find the science. It's interesting. Lonely too. I haven't given up the thought though that if I can get just one good song out of this, it will be worth it. Perhaps one good song becomes the foundation of the album which to build the rest around? So shall we see what is written.

Truly

My life decides to take these turns and bends, this trip. Sometimes easy. Sometimes messy. And I am thankful for ever bit of it. The passing moment. The quiet moment. The silence. The loneliness. The company. The laughter. The music. Oh...the music! I love technology. How we can all be miles and miles from physical nearness and yet be connected through these advancements. And how much more through the spirit! I am thankful for my not-so-new friend. He makes me laugh a lot, and I am thankful for his dimples too. How they literally bestow satisfaction just looking at them. Beauty marks. I am thankful for being in “no more bullshit” mode. Finding some ground within myself and being comfortable therein. Coming to accept my weaknesses. Reaching the end of something. Creating newness in every conscious thought. I am thankful for rejection, and even more thankful for liking it. Recognizing the great teacher. I am thankful for these surrounding masses of cells, organic molecules, of pulsating life, of spiritual existence called family. I am thankful for lasting friendships. I am thankful for cats. I am thankful for the enchantment of discovery and creative power. I am thankful for being moved to tears. For possessing a tender heart. I am thankful for Him. I am thankful for you and me. For us. For them. For we. And I am thankful for time. The passage of time. For having too much, and not having enough. I am thankful for love. And thankful for loving. For being loved. I am thankful for this honor. For humility. I am thankful for a song. For more than one. For realizing a calling. For signs and guidance. For protection and mercy. For forgiveness, and second chances...sometimes thirds. I am thankful. Simply. Profoundly. Truly.

Restless

I tell myself everything will be okay today. Everything will work out. And yet everything is out of my hands, beyond my grasp, free of my understanding. I am completely at His Mercy. And so, I will repose tonight while my mind scurries about with frightening thoughts. Then I will stop myself from the raging storm and place it in His Hands once more. How it eases to make the conscious effort to turn it over to Him, yet it is He Who always has the Power and has no need for it to be relinquished.

My thought of you for the day:

I am blessed to have loved you, independent of what you have or have not felt for me. And when I'm old and gray and lying on my death bed, after all the humbling thoughts of regret that will seep in about what I failed to accomplish for this great and mighty Cause, and after thoughts of praise and gratitude, for life, for family, for friends, I am certain I will recall you and the love I have felt for you in my life. I will think back to how lucky I have been to have known you at such a young age. Yes, my first love at 12. And that love will still be there. It might change and transform, but it will always be. So I thank you, for being you. For living and breathing. For being exactly what you want and should be in this life of yours. You are destined for greatness and I hope you will love someone in your life, beyond any doubt, the way that I have loved you.

Danny Wayland Seals (Danny Horse), 1948-2009

I cannot contain my thoughts of you. It's as though you've split into an infinite number of pieces and scattered throughout the world your essence, sprinkling each us of with a touch of your love. Your spirit is felt more than ever and reverberates inside each of us. In truth, you make me want to be a better person and I thank God for your very existence. May you rejoice in the Abha Kingdom, as we rejoice in having known your precious soul. You are pure love and I love you.

The Scientist

Come up to meet you,
Tell you I'm sorry,
You don't know how lovely you are.

I had to find you,
Tell you I need you,
Tell you I set you apart.

Tell me your secrets,
And ask me your questions,
Oh let's go back to the start.

Runnin' in circles,
Comin' in tails,
Heads on a science apart.

Nobody said it was easy,
It's such a shame for us to part.
Nobody said it was easy,
No one ever said it would be this hard.
Oh take me back to the start.

I was just guessin',
At numbers and figures,
Pullin' the puzzles apart.

Questions of science,
Science and progress,
Do not speak as loud as my heart.

Tell me you love me,
Come back and haunt me,
Oh, what a rush to the start.

Runnin' in circles,
Chasin' tails,
Comin' back as we are.

Nobody said it was easy,
Oh it's such a shame for us to part.
Nobody said it was easy,
No one ever said it would be so hard.
I'm goin' back to the start.

~ Coldplay

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.

(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.

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.

Dear Friend,

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

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.