A Sense of Place

Feet planted firmly on new ground, you walk. Guided by a natural curiosity to unearth the distinct mysteries of the landscape that surrounds you. Life is absorbed, moment by moment in contrast and juxtaposition -- grand, sweeping views, short bursts of conversation and small bites of juicy, local fruit.

You walk sanded pathways, cobblestone streets and roads unpaved. You speak kindly in fragments of language to locals and take in the rhythm of the dialects which surround you. Food, it grounds you and tantalizes your once comfortable taste buds. Light coats the rooftops here at a different angle and saturates the electric colors of doors and walls.

Each moment you pass through, you feel the air start to shift. As you cover the ground in your footsteps, you leave behind an imprint of your presence. The land begins to open itself to you, and you, in turn, must embrace it. A comfort sets in, a sense of knowing. It’s a dynamic relationship between you and the land, its people, history, culture and practices. A sense of place.

What Chains Sound Like

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White Dreams

Inhale blue. A slow and steady breath, calm with a subversive anxiety provoking you to look over your shoulder. You are not caught, but you feel as if you have been. Objects duplicate around you, a misty blue light cascades around soft white edges; your senses are blurred. Rest your weary mind and let the slow rolling tide take you in. For a moment, you are a drifter. Let white washed cheeks and faded colors blur together, you are floating amongst silver clouds, disengaged from time, dreaming in white.

Stranger

Do I know you stranger? I swear I've seen you before. Something about your cheeky grin and the way you raise your eyebrows in the vivid sunlight reminds me of a face I've memorized long ago. Though the brush of your hand against my skin is familiar to me, you are somehow different. Here in this desert air you are transformed in my eyes. Have I known you for 10 years...or only a few minutes? When I'm with you the world is my playground.  As we laugh and dance in this sun soaked desert with only our laughter to be absorbed by the sand, I feel vibrant. Life is sweet and kind in the light of your eyes. Take my hand and tell me we can play forever, for only you can keep the sun shining when the moon is standing in its way.

Bliss

My lips feel like butter to my own salty fingertips. My hair falls like featherweight across my open shoulders. I like the way my hands curve when I walk, arms swaying loose at my side. I like the soft thud my sneakers make as they bump against new found pavement I've never tread. For me, there is no better feeling than sun glazing my cheekbones; warm and decadent. I feel the curvature of my closed lids, and the stillness of my breathing body. I can stop time in a waking moment like this. This nothingness in the air around me is full and cavernous. I breathe life as it is - boundless and unafraid. I am tolerant of the waves and wind and whiz of strangers around me, but here in this now-ness I am intimately free; endlessly beautiful; blissfully me.

Crossing the Line

Mundanity will be the death of me.

It seeps like a venom into my veins, slowing my heart beat and numbing my senses. I’m tired of the context, the excuses and the waiting. In a world of habitual repetitive acts, I dare you to put things out of order. Cast light on to muddy shadows.  Cross the line and say what you know they’re all thinking. It is a rebellious act to honor yourself in a world that profits from your self-doubt. Sharpen your dull tongue and exercise your vision for truth. Dream fast and live honestly.

Hideaway

“I struggled with the concept of freedom and sought answers in devilish hands and smiles that leered. The world was loud, harsh and fast and I was enticed by its painful traps and complications.”

Somewhere in the darkness, the mud and the noise I drifted.

Lost, I found myself in a cavernous place that echoed with a silence so full I felt satiated.  Droplets of water leapt gleefully on to cool, wet rocks; rugged and misshapen. A playground of shadows, mounts and crests containing the energy and history of a thousand years, there was a vibration in this place that felt nostalgic. The cool damp air wrapped around me like a mother’s arms, the moon soothed me with her reverent humming glow. Lost and incomplete, by the light of glittering stars I danced and let my feet fall away.

Shadow

I dreamt in vintage grain last night that you met me in the field we use to run through together; loose, and nervous. Images flickered and flashed like a sticky film reel. You were a shadow, a muffled voice always behind me. I awoke with a sinking feeling I had lost something I knew I lost years ago. Feverish was my skin in this midnight hour as a lay alone, skin pulsing with a rhythm we should have shared till the end of our days. You are the ghost of my time, my waking dream and I can only pray that one day you hear me calling your name in the wind as it passes through the gaping space between us.