streaming to you live, from my brain …

Words flood my brain, pouring down my throat, through my tongue and teeth, lost in a search for the usual outlet of my hands. I’m shaking, full of expression. What haven’t I said – I talk and write too much as it is. Words crowd out images, no space left for anything but writing and talk and body language and messages found in silence. This world exhausts me, excites me, enlightens me, enrages me, enamors me, and eats me alive. Living in the moment is surreal. Your purpose? Name it and it will change on you. Evolution of soul is inevitable – rise high or fall below your potential. Example for you. Mr. Ex has been looking for meaning since his divorce, time has found him now clinging to a cause that is close to his heart but Mr. Ex is allowing this to encompass all that he is and does, he is forgetting that there is more than one facet to life. He isn’t living. But then, who am I to judge his happiness, if that is what he has found? I am not he; I am me. I have my own journey to pursue. Ramble on and on, but I can’t separate one thought from another. I call her Sister, she lives in a marriage that is not fulfillment for her and her lover does not live under her roof. Where is she? At home at her husband’s side, or does her soul flee in every spare moment to embrace her lover far away? We used to communicate in writing, now its in dreams. Tell me your story. Another one I call Sister, another I have not met flesh-and-blood, she will soon move further away than she is now and I miss her already. Can I come with you? You always say yes. I need to take accept your yes once and for all and come to visit you. A delicate balance, the necessity of nourishment and this need for freedom from desire. Where do I win? My body and I are finally on speaking terms. I love yoga. My biological sister studing abroad, successful, beautiful, I am so proud of her and yet she will never be so of me. Best of luck to you. I may never see you again, but what would you care? I don’t know anymore if I would or not. Friends in close places, love across the ocean, my teacher and her partner. How do they do it without going mad? Destiny? Never ceases to impress. A man I now call Brother, a previous lover, he has found inspiration and I only wish I could help him more with his endeavours. His inspiration fluctuates so much, I will let him walk alone for now, but I am ever with him. A man I now call Brother, not known so well except in writ, and he is a Survivor, a Poet standing at the bottom of a slowly flooding well, looking up at the light at the top, and swimming, climbing to it endlessly. Amazing, his courage. Chin up, kiddo – you cannot fail. Friends in close places craving a cradle and a baby to call their own. Patience is a virtue, and they are surely Saints. They have saved me time and time again, and I hope I have been able to be a blessing to them in kind. My bicycle in their parents’ backyard. Must collect it soon. Other friends in close places marrying in order to keep the peace in their families and in their relationships with God. God bless, keep and help them. They go on faith. Never forget that. My mother, not by blood but by love, she lives on the opposite side of the world, I am so excited to see her this autumn. She is my best friend. I will return home soon, Mum. Early morning walks, a treasure. Finding solace in talking to a man who is neither here nor there, no ego but very precise individualisation embodied. An ideal person to start my day, a good friend that actually listens, we should have been twins we are so different. Random story, in truth. A cherished friend, different than the one mentioned just previous: we are taking our time to know each other better, I am grateful for the slow pace, it’s change from my norm. But what I would not give to have all the time in the world, in this life and beyond to know each other better and grow together and experience the best and worst side-by-side. Work fills each hour it can, and he fills the rest. He brings me rest, peace, quiet, calm. Apparently, I am his muse and his guru. Interesting, unintended, flattering. Vice versa. Sunrise, different each place I live. Call me Gypsy. Wizened soul with an insaitiable wanderlust rather than being some lusty Scorpio. I still have my moments. My feet, planted in the soil with the trees and the grass, cold wet brown velvet. Sleeping under stars, moon, sky, rain, my skin cold and raw from element exposure. Remembering doing this before. Walking, running, flying with my feet on the water, the waves curl aroud me. Am I to drown, is this my last moment, will my last view of the sky be from underneath this wave, will my body become a part of the kelp the fish the reef the flow of the ocean, a testament to my passion? The wave falls, I fall, alive, adrenaline rush, breathing still, another chance to chase the taste of death and find gratitude for life all over again. The kitten presses her forehead against mine every time I see her, she stares at me like a little Buddha statue, smiling and serene. Where have I seen eyes that green before? Braiding hair absentmindedly, wondering about a boy I know in Bali. When does he return home? I hope he is holding the book of pictures I sent to him closeby. I want to know that it makes him laugh and smile. My brothers, I miss them. Do you miss me, kids? My hair, what colour is it now? So temporary and tempormental. My eyes, at least they’ve finally decided to be green. Still have a lazy eye. Such a sprite, don’t stare. My adopted brother, autistic, I sing to him even though I haven’t seen him for over two years. I miss his brilliance. Words, thoughts, people, emotion – full to the brim. Ending here before there is a storm. Static, fin.

~ by surfhoney on Friday, 1 June 2007.