Chance Meeting

Walking that grey, winding hallway,
I was following unseen,
Only felt
Threads blindly.
I trusted to the pattern
All around me.
I asked a question;
It had no body,

But its form dissolved,
Was taken up into my surrounding
and condensed into you;
an open door in answer

Part 2: Haiku

Boating together, 
But we want deeper water.
Watertight no more. 

Part 1: Poem "Deep Blue"

You start at the surface, 
Of course, 
Clear blue.

But you use it only to begin.
If you see pearls in the depths, 
You work your way deeper.
Boring holes in a water-tight boat,
Enough holes until it begins to sink.

Then, you're under water, 
Swimming in deep pools of thought and experience. 
Occasionally you surface for air, 
Depth is a choice, a struggle at first. 

You begin each time in the shallows, 
Pushing deeper, 
Enticed by the companionship
And intimacy you seek. 

First Love

(inspired by an upcoming Readers Write subject for The SUN Magazine.)
The first few weeks after we broke up I dropped my phone constantly. A gift from him, the act of accidentally letting it slip (hard, smooth case; forgetful mind) from my hands came to represent how I'd accidentally severed the threads of our relationship.
Not my first love, granted, but my first boyfriend, the first who loved me back. The first who loved me back at a time in life when forever was almost possible, but still not quite.
We broke up during a phone call; I overestimated my understanding of him and the strength of our relationship. As we spoke, I could feel things spiraling out of control, but, passive, I did nothing to steer the conversation in any direction. I spilled too many awkward honesties at once using language unfamiliar to me ("I'd like to date other people", "we're going too fast", "but I still want to be your friend") In my rush to be honest, I forgot to be considerate, compassionate, and thoughtful; I forgot to weigh the possible meaning of what I said. There was a fatal flaw in creating girls' minds so different from boys' minds. To him, all of these phrases meant rejection and replacement.
I came to think of that phone call as a sort of clumsy but earnest flailing that ended much differently than I'd intended, but not enough differently for me to take possession of what was slipping past me.
I haven't really regretted breaking up, but I have regretted the circumstances, I feel that I could have done much better with my timing and communication. The past is only the past, though, and maybe someday we can look back on it all as good friends once again, but not, as he says, right now.
It's hard not to sound melancholic, when writing about this, I mean, a metaphor involving a phone given me by my first boyfriend? Cheesy, I'm sure. But I've come back to drafting this narrative in my head many times since that long, gray month.
I continued living. It wasn't like life ever stopped. Over time I managed to stop dropping my phone so frequently. I still have it, and in the ups and down since, I'll drop it increasingly over the course of a week, and struck by the poignance of it- (we'll have spoken in slightly unfriendly terms to one another, or I will feel neglected as a friend)- I will work to master my hands and my feelings once again and do my best not to just throw the whole thing at the wall, smashing it to pieces. 

I am a composite of every person I have held dear, and I am also Myself

I've grown up watching my parents and imitating their actions, tastes, and opinions. This has carried over with other relationships in my life with my siblings and friends, and the people I've worked for. I suppose this is sycophantic, but I like think of it more in the terms of "the best form of flattery is imitation".
I pick up my taste in music from what the people I love listen to. My parents came of age in the eighties, and have exposed us to a lot of alternative new wave and punk bands; The Smiths, The Clash, The Cure, Blondie, Siouxie and the Banshees, Talking Heads, Devo, Madness, and The English Beat among others. I've heard almost everything from the genre, even if I may not immediately be able to name songs or the bands playing them. My friend Raven introduced me to Mountain Man, described as an indian folk rock trio, and The Lumineers, a folk band best-known for their song Hey Ho. My dear friend Yo opened up the world of Les Friction and Led Zeppelin (the former, indirectly) to me. He also brought Ben Howard to my attention, as you well know if you read this silly blog regularly.
I read most of the books my friends and family recommend, and I aspire to read every book on this list compiled by me, my mom, and my dad. I adore JD Salinger, my dad owns every book he's released to the public, and my dad also introduced me to Orson Scott Card through the Alvin Maker series. Three or four of my friends told me I had to read The Hunger Games; I held out pretty long, but Yo finally lent me (or rather, my dad) the first two of the trilogy. I got into the Harry Potter series because my great Aunt told my mom to give it another chance; originally she'd sort of banned it. That's one of the more indirect examples I've written so far, but it does illustrate my point pretty well.
Longboarding is something I decided to learn because of my siblings and Yo, who are all fantastic longboarders. I built my own board with another longboarder friend because I knew I'd be more likely to actually learn it if I had my very own board. (At the time, my siblings shared a few boards given us by the board-building friend.) I'm not very athletically inclined, though I do enjoy climbing trees, hiking, and playing games like tag. But I really would not have picked up boarding were it not for my family and friends.
One of the more abstract examples included in this essay-list; Sometimes, after spending at least half a day with a person, I'll find myself thinking in their voice and syntax. This happened with a southern guy I work for and it happened when I spent the day with my college-age friend a couple Springs ago.

I've grown up closely watching my parents and imitating them. Along the way I've also learned a lot of things and acquired likes and interests from my friends and the people I've admired. I haven't neglected my own innate tendencies or tastes in all of this; I am fairly discerning in what I copy from other people. I don't pick up everything my friends do or enjoy; I know very much who I am, changeable as that may be.

The best sunset in a while

Subject: Lovely Town & Good Company 
Monday the 10th of March, 2014
Walking and running down the street with my sister, the sun setting gloriously brilliant in the West as we anticipated walking the chocolate chip dog.

Not So Far Away: Sincerely Reaching Out In This Time Of Tech

It may no longer be the season of holidays, nor 2001, but this post by the coolest man I've ever met rings true even as the glove of winter slips from the slender hand of the year of our lord 2014.

Every-day Meditations

I
Bread dough--
rough polish on my nails

--Sometimes I forget every-day meditations
for the ethereal allure of cocooned spiritual practice
and living

--But the idealistic future
lives no where--
except the present,

if you'll let it


II
My heart is made of galaxies
but it's also grown over,
twisted through
winding ropes of knuckle-kneaded
bread dough-
and my prayers, my meditations
are grounded in

The hugs of little children
"Goodmorning!" sung from a friend across the valley
Sunrises
Kisses
Simple poetry
Incense lit on my dresser
My native landscape
and
You

One way to do one of those "looking back over the year" things...

Subject: Bridging the gaps of an evolving heart
After watching "DMT: the spirit molecule", having finished, started, and finished two crochet projects of the prettiest color. 10/10/12

This morning was lovely in so many ways, as I lay here, listening to "Secret on the moors" by David Arkenstone and remembering hanging out with Starchild and Yo at Starchild's apartment, I am happy. 10/23/12

Sledding at the cabin, underneath the full moon with my siblings. Everything so bright and beautiful and happy. December 28th 2012

Subject: The smell, sound, feel of rain. Utter bliss with siblings.
Running around the block, bare feet and socks slapping on the wet asphalt, one of my brothers took his shoes off at the start of the third black, barely in the faint orange light of the lamppost. Torthadiel, Erumeren, Hammer head and me. 4/1/13

Sigur Ros Untitiled No. 3 in my room, dark from the overcast sky outside. I am working on my bacterium story, happy to write unreigned, unrestrained. The song turned up as high as it can go, humming in my bones, sweet in my throat and loud in my ears, my heart rejoicing. 5/17/13

Subject: Contact from very dear old friends 3/28/13
Receiving an email forwarded by dad from our dear friends -- They say they have internet now and they'd like to skype with us!

Namaste y mae govannen to every and all

• Beauty in everyday life, spontaneous and immediate. If you wait, it will always come, heartbreaking and eye-opening. I am always a little bit less blind than I was before. 
• Yo, my best friend and love.
• My lovely, still growing family.
• Every single one of my siblings, adopted, blood, and soul-relatives.
• All of my friends, which usually translates into siblings.
• Fantastic food and teamwork.
• Snow.
• Music, musicians, and musical instruments. Also, the music of the natural world in all senses.
• Memory. 
• Writing.
• Doctor Who, in all of it's complexity and simplicity, intertwined duality. Funny, beautiful, heartbreaking.
• Enlightenment and transcendence, the unattainable, ever-won quest and weave. 
• Emotion and expression, creativity and god.
• Skin.
• The space between the ears, all at once infinite and perfectly encapsulated. 
• Life, always

Letters Blog: May 31st, 2012. Thursday

To him

Dear lonely candle flame,
I guess you'll never really get what I mean when I say "I miss
you", but then again, I barely get it myself.
I don't really know how to explain it, everything sounds silly
and wishful, as if I were making up some sort of a trite story,
but that's not it at all.
Maybe some of it is, in a way, a story. But only because I can't
really come up with a better way of explaining it, even just to
myself. However whimsical and imaginative, even impossible it
might seem, that is the story I tell myself every once in a while.

I miss you; I miss your presence, even though I've never even
met you in person. I miss talking with you face to face, even
though I don't even know what you look like. I miss your voice
and your facial expressions.
I miss you.
My light matches yours,
Amoniel

Rain

It's raining!

It's raining!

Yes, it's raining, and earlier it was very windy and overcast, my favorite kind of weather. Wind makes me gloriously happy, I don't know why, but something in me rises to meet and match the power of the wind blowing before rain.
I went to walk the Chocolate Chip dog right as all of this was starting up, and I took my little sisters with me. I walked them back to the adopted sister's house after we got Chocolate Chip, though, the wind was a little too crazy for little girls in summery clothing and bare feet.
It was a nice walk, though short.

I love wind and I love rain, I love walking and running and playing in it. It would be nice if we got more of it, but I guess that makes it all the sweeter. 

Movement

There, I'll just leave these here because my voice is buried and I'm too weary to dig it out today. 

Happy box thoughts

Subject: The smell, sound, feel of rain. Utter bliss with siblings.
4/1/13
Running around the block, bare feet and socks slapping on the wet asphalt. Jesse took his shoes off at the start of the third block, barely in the faint orange light of a lamppost. Jm, Torthadiel, TE  and me.

Subject: Wet cloth and fur under gray skies.
Running through the rain with the Chocolate Chip dog, her leash in one hand, my umbrella flapping in the air in the other. Elation, wet, wonderful happiness.
5/7/13

Subject: Easter
Mar/31/13
Hiding eggs around the yard with B and the big kids and then watching the little kids dart to and fro, spotting the eggs in the high places, seizing the ones in the low.

The Key to the Universe (Imagination and Seeds)

(A sort of game I played with my little friend while we walked her dog.)

What if everything had a magical key that unlocked extraordinary powers?;

A key to a dog that allows it to be understood.

A key to a tree that causes all of the branches to draw up into a protective bubble, a living treehouse. Or a key that would unlock its original Entish nature, roots would pull from the ground as a long-forgotten face would bloom into a slow smile and very un-hastily, the newly woken Ent would greet you.

A key to the sidewalk that would make it sink into the ground and be swallowed up by grass and flowers, or turn it into stairs that would spiral up, on and on into the clouds.

A key to a butterfly that would cause it to follow you around, your own small companion.


The key to the universe in a beautiful, entirely significant, scaly pine-cone.

Just a Thought on a Holiday Long Past

I really like the spanish translation for Valentines day in my textbook, "el día del amor y la amistad", in English, "the day of love and friendship."
This better fits my personal interpretation of Valentines day, that it's also for friend and familial love; not just for romance, but for the recognition and appreciation of ALL the people in your heart and life.

Haitian benefit concert

Last night i went to a benefit concert for Haiti at Snow college. It was fantastic! All of the performers did an amazing job, it was the best concert i have ever been to, albeit i haven't been to very many ;) I think what made it all the more special was that i recognized many of the people who performed. My Dad knows the Greenalghs, I've been introduced, but i haven't gotten to know them very well yet. I know Sherry Boekweg, and i know Eve Martin personally. I also recognized some of the people in the high school choir, although when i said hi to one of them, she didn't seem to recognize me.
The song performed by Mayu, Benson and Terry Greenalgh was by far my favorite musically, I thought i was going to lift up and fly as i was listening. I finally understand what makes live rock concerts so special.
My favorite performance visually was Alex Boye. Hi-larious! He got the audience very involved. I laughed and danced and clapped to my heart's content.
The concert wasn't all music, they also had some speakers in between performances. The speakers were pretty neat, although i forget their names, and they didn't have any of the speakers listed in the program.
By far, I am glad i was able to go. It was beautiful, heartbreaking, uplifting, and educational. I learned quite a lot about the situation in Haiti. I am glad I had the opportunity to attend the concert and donate money to Haiti. All of the money from the tickets the organizers sold went to these two charities that are helping out in Haiti, IASK, and, Healing hands for Haiti. Snow College even donated the performance center free of charge! Doesn't that make you all warm and fuzzy inside? It sure made me feel that way.