There are many places to go. There are many scenes to see. They unfetter your eyes and allow you to see the whole journey. The horizon is tantalizingly laid out in front of us. Yet it is also clouded by a mist. As you keep moving, there is always more.
Perceive the motions in every moment. If you choose to, live in solitude. Bypass the noise of the outside. Find your life inside you, “My what a view!” Dig deeper and deeper as you mine the marsh of your mind.
Right now, we are all here. We don’t know for how long we will be here. We are all in this grass field. We are incubated by the sun. We are all flowers; white and purple and pink and yellow. We grow and are nourished by the sun and rain. There are no weeds. We are all present in grace, arched up as we face the great creator.
We are never aware of how long it will be. It could end now. We could go to seed and rejoin the universe. Our essences could drift into new experiences. I write it out, and feel the breeze. Take each season as it is. Each contributes to grace. As the sun warms you, take notice so for in that moment when your body rejoins the earth, your soul will ascend to be with the wind, sweet and fresh and nourished.
As for me, I am accepting many things about my journey. I am accepting that there will perhaps be little engagement of the social or sexual kind for me. I have had a few experiences, and they were just moments of lust taking full force. The lustful experiences left me feeling sullied, and somehow wasted. I don’t mean this in any moralistic sinful way; I mean it in a way that speaks to the deepest seeds of true passionate fulfillment deep in me. Encounters only satisfy a stifled surface urge, that once satisfied seem like wasted exertions of energy. Encounters bring only sadness and exhaustion.
I write and as I write I become aware of the progress I have made in my life. My diction has become stronger as I have refined my ability to observe and experience existence. I have developed my vocabulary naturally. It’s 12:12 time to make a wish...
Just last night I was at an open-mic series of performances in downtown St John’s. One guy got up at the very end of the show and began reading out of his travel journal. He would read bits and pieces and then say “Nope, nope” as he moved past parts that were illegible or that he didn’t want to read. This travel journal was a work in progress. It captured experiences he had not even two weeks ago up until that very night. He traveled from Boston up through New Brunswick, PEI, Nova Scotia and arrived in St John’s NL. He stood up there on the dim stage with his little pen size flashlight reading excerpts from his journey.
It was late at night. I was tired, getting ready to leave soon. I was touched by the rawness of his experience as life lived. I remember saying that life is not the final polished form found in poetry books or refined novels, life is the experience of living and expressing that living and sharing it.
I enjoy meditating with like minded souls and sharing cookies and tea afterwards. I have a meditation group I go to, and after our sitting we sit in the kitchen and drink tea and eat cookies. The cookies are sometimes Jam-Jams, sometimes Oreos, or sometimes fudge cookies. I enjoy eating the cookies, piled up so abundantly in a big bowl, and dipping them into my Tetley tea. I enjoy finding crumbled and soggy remains of the cookie at the bottom of the teacup and scraping them out with the spoon. These little bits taste best of all because they are saturated with all the wonderful tastes of the evening. One of my spiritual sisters said that this is meditation Newfoundland style, where we all sit around for a chat with tea and cookies after meditation. She remarked to her friend (both are Newfoundland women) how traditionally Newfoundlanders sit around and chat with a big pot of tea and homemade bread and jam before bed. The cultural significance of simple, sweet foods and intimate group chats is one of the greatest gifts that living in Newfoundland has given me.
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