Today. Abundance. Possibility.

Something feels different today. Everything feels more connected, more possible, more available, more clear. There are uncontrollable unknowns and really big change on my horizon, including a one way plane ticket dated March 25th and somehow, I don't feel anxious. Yes, there is still a buzzing halo of "what ifs?" but I don't mind them. They are melting into "yes, what if!". Will you understand me when I say that I have a constant feeling of being together though I am solidly alone in this adventure? I have been and will continue to be my whole self no matter the outcome. I belong to something bigger than questions.

I tend to live my life as though every door half open door is begging to be kicked in. I lean into it. I push with both arms outstretched, body triangled, heaving breaths. But not this time. Right here, I wait. I stand back with confidence, enjoying that uneven trickle of spring air wafting from the space between. I am whole and wholeness is rich. I can afford the wait.

Sneak Preview

The Trouble With iPods: A Retrospective

Little Miss: First generation shuffle. Mostly dance music from Arthur Anchors, the youngest brother of my best friend, Liz. Dipped in soapy washing machine water in the sketchy basement laundry room of The Covey Apartments. Evidently, the can-do attitude of the building's namesake washed off on Little Miss. She survived with aplomb, only to meet her demise a few months later in some sort of lame computer USB mishap. It was time to give up the ghost anyway as the new shuffle was hot on her heels. RIP 2006.

International iPod: 20 gig refurbished old school brick. Acquired in Oregon during the Thanksgiving of 2006 in anticipation of upcoming travels. Became a happy companion to the monster suitcase and 12 hour flight. Most noteable characteristic: Quick adaptation to new and strange environments. Greatest Weakness: Co-dependent (re: sick) relationship with my IBM laptop...when the laptop ran off with a taxi driver, this pathetic hanger-on-er went right along with her. Lame. Last Seen: March 2008

Teeny Tiny: 2 Gig silver shuffle. A gift from my laptop patron. Asexual (like morrissey)/androgynous (like Michael Jackson). Generally loyal except for the 3 months it went missing. Loves to run as evidenced by the fact that it was hiding in the toe of my running shoes (don't judge me). Especially fond of USE (United States of Electronica) and Lykke Li. Gets a little weird when you try to listen to Aha! songs. I can understand. Currently resting in its little dock.

Not Quite Right: 1 Gig turqouise Shuffle. bought as a replacement for Teeny Tiny during the three month disappearance. Turns out, I don't really like turquoise electronics. Sold to a friend (who could give her the home and love she deserved) at the ressurgence of Teeny T. Whereabouts unknown.

Pretty Young Thing: 80 Gig newish iPod Classic. Acquired spring/summer of 2008. Introduced me to TV on demand. Faithfully served well during long bus rides, annoying work days in a communal office, escapism on the treadmill. Failed me finally this morning by choosing to remain on the 5500-1 bus long after I had disembarked. I remain Cauptimistic (cautiously optimistic) for a return as Korea is known for it's surprising returns. But should she decide to go the way of most of my other electronics, I will refrain from passing judgement. It is obvious now that I am not meant to hold on to, care about or spend money on anything smaller than a frying pan if I am not willing or able to sotter chains to it and myself.

I'm scared to get an iPhone when I get home. It might bring with it the apocolypse. Seriously, when will the iSorrow end?

Writing A Poem With God

Krisanne asked me the other day why I find poetry more appealing than prose. It was such a simple question, but if forced me to articulate something that has been percolating for some time, but which I don't think I've consciously explored before. And that is this... In my opinion (feel free to debate this if you'd like but nicely because I'm a wimp), prose is about presenting an experience and describing it fully. Using as many words as it takes to draw the picture, making sure that it's beautifully laid out and understood. But poetry is about the complexity and the nuances of one word. Poetry is the efficiency of language, compact and dense, like bones.

Then you take all the density and you apply it to the pursuit of communicating emotion and experience and something very cool happens. One word becomes a universe. A conversation. I put it on paper and breathe some context into it and then you read it and breathe your own context into it and we're talking. I'm not just telling a story like prose. I'm singing. It's jazz. It's call and response. I'm saying something and you're saying something and we say it through one word. A friend once told me that he prays that way. One word conversations with God. And I realized that that is the essence of poetry for me.

So then I thought if I was going to write a poem with God, what would that look like...

Writing A Poem With God

NB: Hey.
G: Hey.
NB: I want to write a poem, maybe about the meaning of my life.
G: ok. That sounds good. Start throwing out words and we'll see what sticks.
NB: meaning.
G: too subjective. try purpose.
NB: nope. sounds too much like porpoise. You know me...can't do it. Destiny?
G: Hmmm...has the word tiny in it. Takes away. You're more than that. Breathe.
NB: Yes! like inspiration.
G: Breathe.
NB: I already said yes. You want more breathing?
G: Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Say it 500 times, it starts to sound funny.
NB: breathe. yes. I still like it. It's life.
G: life?
NB: uh huh. life.
G: deep.
NB: You made me that way. It's not my fault!
G: blame. lame. flame.
NB: Rhyming is really tired, God. We're not using that in our poem, OK?
G: I know. I know. You think I'm sooooo conventional. Try this. Restless. Sleep. Anchored. I am awake.
NB: I think it's been done. But what about trust?
G: heart wide
NB: heart ache
G: but not heart attack
NB: Right. With. God.
G: justified
NB: enthusiasm
G: back to that whole breathing thing again? Already?
NB: this time your breath, not mine. Not Mine.
G: what about peace? You want that one?
NB: always.
G: always, that's easy. You got it.
NB: This is getting good. But it seems redundant.
G: Really? Overdone? But I thought you needed it again and again and again?
NB: I will take it. You give it. I will take it. You give it. I will take it. You give it. I will take it.
G: You give it. I will take it. You give it. I will take it. You give it. I will take it. You give it.
NB: Are we done here?
G: Are we?
NB: Yes.
G: Yes.

Holy Crap!

It's 2000 and NINE!??????!!!!!!