Showing posts with label m. Barber. Show all posts
Showing posts with label m. Barber. Show all posts

Monday, September 17, 2018


"We have no reason to mistrust our world [mind], for it is not against us. Has it terrors, they are our terrors; has it abysses, these abysses belong to us; if there are dangers at hand, we must try to love them. . . . we must hold to the difficult, then that which now still seems to us the most alien will become what we most trust and find most faithful. . . . Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us" - Rainer Maria Rilke

There’s seldom room for fear or doubt in my life... I’m very blessed & grateful for all that I have and feel for anyone that struggles with paralyzing fears and doubt. Especially when someone tries to force them into action.  Forcing anyone is often counterproductive. Having a little faith and letting your love guide your hand goes much further in helping others. Just because you know what's best doesn't mean it's the best way.

Buddhism sees doubt as a hindrance of the mind. It’s the loss of faith and self-love that fuels fear and doubt. Often people self-medicate instead of dealing with their bullshit. Makes them push people away because they're afraid of what the future holds. It leaves them feeling they’ve failed those who care after they push them away. Self doubt often paralyzes one with fear of failure which erodes away at their self-confidence. No, the meditation stuff doesn't always work and can be more damaging when it doesn't. Once doubt has a hold of the mind, it's very hard to break it's grip. But, much like smoke, it's not there. To shake it's grip you have to realize that you must face some truths about how things really are and not how you believe they are. 

When I am sick and not feeling well, I let my body rest and seek to heal the physical symptoms. Much like a physical illness, doubt plagues the mind. It's important to realize that these fear and doubts about the future won't go away on their own but also to know that anyone dealing with them can still enjoy the wonders of life by remaining present. There is no reason to mistrust your mind, it's not against you. The doubt is, in a sense, the mind's way of trying to protect something from happening out of fear. 

Do your fears and doubt paralyze you? Don't doubt or fear the unknown. And don't let anyone make you question your confidence. You know what you're afraid of and how to overcome. Have faith, and if you can't, I have a little to spare for anyone that needs it. 

Here's one from Smoke that I never posted... you can find the book on Amazon. 


Slowly I part her lips with mine.
Quietly she breathes into my mouth.
I’m overwhelmed with emotion.

Holding it back.
Keeping my inner feelings
Under control as she reaches up and around my neck.

Slow and easy
She steps in and out of sync with me.
Carefully we tease each other with an almost kiss.

Surrounded by smoke in the back room of this bar
We playfully miss each other.
Simply looking at the fine patrons of this establishment
Reminds me that it’s not a place we should be.
No where I should’ve brought her.
But we’re here.
Waiting for a patient.

A woman who won’t tell me her given name,
But she’ll tell me to call her Babe.
A babe in a bit of trouble;
Something I don’t want for my Ava.
In these dark hours of night.

We continue to grope and insist while waiting in the back.
I don’t think that this woman is showing when my girl
Plays with my hair.
The short hair beneath my neck.
Curling it between her fingers.

I hear a shotgun in the alley.
It snaps me present.
I grab my gal by the waist.
My heart quickens.
Attentive and steady she works my neckline over.
I’m afraid what could come.

Asking if she’s fine
Gets me a sigh and a kiss on my chin.
Smiling she looks into my eyes and I know.
Knowing that there’s nothing like smile comforts me again.
She feels safe and trusts me.

I’m leaning in for a kiss and she pulls away with a laugh.
The bar empties out and it feels like we are alone.
Alone with her almost kiss.
The potential of our union intermixes with the smoke in the room.
Calm and hungry;
She makes a move at me very…


Friday, September 14, 2018


Everyone and everything affects each other... don’t listen to people who solely blame you or solely blame others in this life. Who you are and what you do affects where you lead but those you interact with and their actions or lack of actions affect your path as well. Love yourself enough to focus on you instead of where others paths are leading when it’s not alongside yours. Love is about flexibility and fun... compromise isn’t the same as sacrificing who you are to be in a relationship. Trust that other people know what’s best for themselves & focus on you.

Here’s one about nothing really... from Immersed 

Do you tell everyone everything and expect them to do as you wish? Try letting people lead themselves a little more. They’re quite capable. ;)

Kisses, m.




Fuck your feelings.” He says coyly with a smirk and leans back in the shower. 


“I’d rather you were fucking me.” I fidget with the cheap robe that the Four Seasons provided in the suite. Another time I can’t believe I caved in and I’m with a man I swore I’d never because he’s…


No good,” the almond milk is spoiled. Erica says it with a disdain that tells me she’s convinced I’ll throw it out because of her smell test which is rarely ever in agreement with the date on the package. 


“It’s fine.  Don’t use it.” I tell her and move back to the poetry of writing my paper.


“It’s exasperating when you force yourself to do things you don’t want to.” My sister echoes with her own brand of self punishment as she pours the milk into her coffee. 


Oh I want to,” I scream out loud as I press him up against the shower wall letting the water spill over us. When I know I should be forcing myself to stop I don’t, because it feels good. I don’t feel bad in spite of how we really are with each other. 


“Of course you want to,” he says and pulls me against him. The water splashing against my back feels incredible as his lips find their way across my skin. Our breathing sounds mingle with echoes of water spilling down the drain to fill the silence.


Silently drinking her coffee, Erica slowly pours what remains of the almond milk down the drain. Knowing she wants a response, I ignore her. Loudly she insists “I’m saving you from hurting yourself.” 


“Of course you are.” 


When he knows I’m aching for more he says it, “Saving the best for last. Waiting hurts, doesn’t it?”


“Of course it does.”

Monday, September 10, 2018


A lot can happen in a month... a habit can be formed or broken in a month. Something I’ve learned over the years is that people ultimately stay who they are always. People don’t change who they are.  Not unless they want to or something scary-fucked up happens to them & forces them into it. Social media isn’t an excuse of any kind for anything including judging others. Sometimes it’s the most immature person calling everyone else little children on social media, who doesn’t want to grow up. Pay attention. Hypocrisy isn’t a good color on anyone. 

For moi, I call others by their names instead of labels and respect their boundaries when they want space and patience. My hands are always there to take a hold of when someone needs it. Loving & holding space for others is the easiest thing when you realize its not about you. 

Here’s one from Smoke... May you all find peace, balance and the time for it all including the things you wish to change. Change starts within and has nothing to do with others, even on social media, no matter how much you judge them.

Do you blow smoke? 
Kisses, m.

Innocence Lost

Innocence Lost. 
Or is it just your mind you’ve lost.
No one can take what you don’t use. 
You have the choice to take it back.

When you were only a child
You lost it. 
That thing that makes you want something else.
It’s 8:15 am and you decide to change your name.

You’re dressed up like a train wreck. 
You don’t want a cigarette. 
Claim you don’t even smoke. 
But you check your purse for cash.

In the middle of the road 
Just like another victim
You brought a friend and she’s got you wearing that bad look again.

Take a drag. 
No one can take it for you. 
Just another smoker.
Claims she’s lost. 

Lost without the last him 
Until you remember he’ll take a swing. 
You got the choice to stay
You take a drag instead
And leave 

Your friend is bringing a pack of Indians by
She wants you to wear that bad hair and kiss another man. 
He may as well be a John. 
You don’t love him. 
Don’t even want to. 

Middle of the road with your bad hair and bad lipstick. 
Your innocence is never lost. 
A cough precedes your drag.

Lost in the smoke remembering what he felt like on top of you. 
His new smell, grunts and it’s the only affection you know. 
You don’t have to do it but the weight,
The stranger’s body, makes you feel whole. 
Comforted by the feeling of physical touch. 

It’s a shame the way you hid behind the fake blonde hair
Pretending to be something you are not.
It’s a shame that they never see you.
Because you’re so busy avoiding yourself. 

Innocence remains beneath the layers of disillusion. 
You’re not lost. 
Don’t even want to be. 
Check your cash and take a drag. 

Monday, May 28, 2018

The Highest Good

The Highest Good

What’s the highest good mean to you? I don’t have witty buddhism to give you but I’ll explain. I think I like to believe everyone can guide themselves so I will share what I know... from what I know of the highest good is that the universe only wants what’s best for you and me so while something sounds or seems great, it may not be. So it doesn’t happen or falls apart. 

How can love not be the highest good? I don’t know but this is the conundrum I am faced with explaining over and over again at the moment. Watching opportunities manifest only to fall apart & leave is hard for anyone, including me. But I have faith in a higher good. 


We are presented with choices in life. There isn’t simply one path, one person or one way to do things. The universe is a tricky thing in that it’s not a thing. It’s more like spiritual balance. And that balance wants you to have what is in your highest good. So it places you on the path that is meant to keep you growing, learning and heading towards your purpose. There’s always going to be things that fall apart but it happens for the highest good. Lost a job, love or a friend? It’s for a reason. Could you have the courage to dream up the next step of your life had things stayed the same? Exactly. This is your path and you will be supported. 


For myself I am relieved every time things fall apart because I know it would happen if it was meant to. Everything will happen when it’s meant to and be to the highest good. Waiting reminds me that whatever is being held back is for a specific reason. 

So whenever it feels like the universe is holding you back from pursuing a specific relationship, new job or new opportunity, etc… it may not be the right time. If it was time then it would be right in front of you. The hold up may be that something is needed before it can happen.  Perhaps you require more training for work or the emotional work to maintain a relationship. Maybe there is a better work opportunity altogether and the partner you are meant for is the one who has the emotional work & reflection to do? Whatever the reason, if things have not yet made themselves clear, it is because it is not yet time for them to come to you..

Sometimes the waiting is the biggest challenge in trusting the universe to bring you the highest good. Here’s an old one about waiting...

Are you patient?


Kisses, m.

On Ice

On Ice. 
There are things you put on ice. 
Sore necks. 
Bad news. 
Hot tempers. 
Dead bodies. 
All of which are among the countless uses for frozen water. 

My teeth start to chatter. I’m pretty certain my lips are blue. Hypothermia can set in the body in a matter of minutes depending on the temperature. Which in this instance the warmth in the room is anywhere in the vicinity of below 59 degrees and continuing to drop. Upon entrance to this walk-in freezer I disabled the controls to the thermostat in the hope it would extend my life while I wait.

As soon as I enter the room and secure the door behind me I began removing my shoes and clothing. I carefully step into the vat of ice. Delicately I submerge my torso inch by inch beneath the cold blanket of ice. The blood from my open wound spills out staining the ice. Slowly the flow of crimson begins to lessen. The waves of freezing set into my body as I wait. My skin takes on a new color and my face feels the blush of winter. My breathing is slower and shallow. I’m getting sleepy.

I’m not certain how long a person can live without a kidney and proper medical attention, but I wait. He promised he’d come. Follow shortly after I did. Rather after we did this. See you can’t cut out your own kidney. It requires assistance. 

Chance said, “I’ll be there in a matter of minutes behind you. Wait. Don’t do anything stupid. You can not risk your life. Just wait for me.” 

So I wait. Keep in mind. Neither of us are doctors. Actually Chance was excommunicated from the world of medicine for a similar abuse on school property during his last term as a med student. His calling as a surgeon washed away with one foolish irresponsible move. But we didn’t have time to find someone else. He gave me a local anesthetic and promised it would hurt like hell. Well, it didn’t tickle. Laugh. Pain. Smile. Chatter.


Now why am I missing a kidney? Money. Of course, right? I would be thinking money. Not at all. It’s quite the contrary. To simplify it, Chance asked me for it. I agreed. What woman gives a man her kidney? A crazy one. I trust him with all my heart. This explains why I’m waiting here instead of the emergency room at the nearest hospital. This rationalization seems ridiculous when I think about it. The long story isn’t much clearer in my opinion either. 

Chance returned home quite distraught. He wouldn’t speak to me or look me in the eye for over an hour. It was clear he wrestling with something in his mind and it was winning. When I could no longer bear to watch him suffer I grabbed him and refused to let go until he told me what was going on. 

“I need a kidney,” he says like it’s a gambling debt he has to repay. I can tell he’s quite serious though. I mention cadavers. With that thought he breaks free of my grasp and shakes his head no, moving his entire body in this denial. 

“It has to come from a person… a… a… a living person.” He’s terrified and shaking fiercely. “I don’t need to keep it. Just need it for a little bit. And his voice gets quiet and stops with a pause before dropping the final blow, “TONIGHT!” 

I walk over and hold him to stop the shaking. 

He whispers, “Its life or death. Mine.” 

I love him, so I offer. 
He declines and pushes me away. 
I pause. 
He asks, “Are you sure? I won’t unless you are.” 
I am. We agree. He promises to come for me. So here I wait for him to return, with or without my kidney.

The icy bath has the rancor of death. Frozen slow death. It’s my blood mixing with the ice. Red, glistening, breathe taking, numb, creeping in without a warning. 

Chance, where are you? I think I’m dying. On ice. Alone. 

There’s not enough life in me for anger or sadness. It’s cold. Quiet. I trust him. My breathing has slowed even more. The precise hole in my torso has temporarily cauterized from the cold. I’m thankful that bleeding out isn’t what’s killing me. I manage to stay coherent a little longer. 

My eyes flutter. 
The door swings. 
Eyes closed then open. 
It’s Chance. Maybe it’s too late. 
He’s bent over next to me with both hands fiercely digging in the ice to free me. 
Red ice. 
Maybe not. 


Friday, April 20, 2018

In Fashion

Fashion roadkill or fashionably discarded? How about being fashionably woke? Telling the same story as someone else won’t necessarily make your version better... try telling your own story and let others enjoy it. 

Here’s something about fashion... 

Kisses, m.

Murder on the Runway

Murder on the Runway.

Yvette & Cosette hobble out onto the runway. The unnatural pair of Siamese twin descend the cat walk and move forward in a seesaw walk that was neither fierce nor provocative. Both sewn into one garment – conjoined at the hip. Neither of these novice divas willing to give up a star spot in a Nigel Rockford show. Uncertain of the world they have entered, but knowing that it will change their lives forever.

Designer Nigel Rockford: “I wanted circus freak meets Russian doll via the Orient Express…”, and the interview went on and on. “I’ve brought two Scandinavian beauties to model my new collection. These fabulous dolls will be my next stars! My show will be the most extravagant thing anyone has seen all year!”  This designer extraordinaire was trying to be the next avant-garde visionary ala Alexander McQueen. As if. This interview would be his undoing. 

Show begins. One by one the models walk out, stop, spin, and walk back. Clomp, clomp, stamp, stamp. Strut. Fierce. Arms on hips. Work it for the crowd. As each goes out, the mood gets bitchier and cattier. Katarina making her pass throws elbows hitting Lexa in the chest and nearly tossing her to the ground before the crowd. Nina prancing out as brilliant as ever, is taken out by the errant feet work of another diva. Down on the platform! Fashion Roadkill! At this show the models are moving forward in rapid succession with the intent to do damage; walking down the runway fiercely stepping on Nina with the purpose to aim and trample. The first steps directly on her hand – Broken! The second on her face – Ouch! Third, well she nearly trips and kicks Nina in the ribs for the near-miss faux pas. Nina eventually slinks off the runway with a broken nose bleeding profusely on Nigel’s Japanese silk, crème colored creation and leaving a trail of blood along the way. Red meets pristine white, illuminated, on display for all to see. It’s smearing as the other girls take no notice and keep on strutting through it. Nigel is flabbergasted, yelling and throwing furs backstage. How dare these bitches ruin his show? 

What set these beautiful (and deadly) creatures off? The coveted spot! The piece de résistance, Nigel promised each and every one of the models the prized slot - the finale. Being the fickle yet fabulous Nigel Rockford, he’d recruited two unusual and unheard of beauties instead of using the ‘already seen that’ standard. Yvette and Cosette silly creatures, foreign to the scene, delicate, and completely oblivious; the pair never saw the ambush coming. The day he posted the clothing assignment, a devastating blow was dealt. Two very public, high profile models attempted suicide that day, each believing her career to be over since Nigel had chosen fresh faces. The pair was replaced immediately without hesitation. Nigel shrugged it off as typical catty drama. “You know what. I’m actually glad those prima donnas are out of the way! There should be no bitterness at my show. I wish those ladies the best of health and a speedy recovery.” Yes. Those were his comments to the press. How very? Indeed!

As the first model hits the backstage and the curtain falls, the fight begins. Models start removing hair and shoes. Each diva figuring that one less competitor would lower the odds to gaining the desired spot. One goes down after a hand mirror pegs between her eyes, scattering shards of glass across her face. Another model grabs and pulls the hair of another, proceeding to drag her down a staircase and then shoving the young woman down the remaining steps. Hair extensions are being ripped out, pulling out bloody clumps of hair directly from the scalp and tossed aside. Its wrestling meets Haute Couturé. Unreal, but ever so entertaining! Flat irons being used to singe the skin off faces. 

A model starved to the verge of insanity was typically the most dramatic headline you’d see in a newspaper these days regarding the industry. Not any more. DEATH BY MANOLO BLAHNIK might sound a bit more appropriate after this show. 

Brawling ensues. Heels, jewelry and handbags all being used as weapons. There are a thousand tiny pink feathers in the air floating down into a sea of women tearing into each other. Not a pretty sight. Clothing is flying about. Half of Nigel’s collection on the floor covered in blood. Each new model heading backstage is thrust into this pit of unequivocal carnage. Nigel is still trying to maintain a show. On his side of the stage, models are being thrown into clothes and shoved out and down the runway. No one wants to go out anymore. Those who are left know too well what awaits them on the other side of the stage. 

Nigel so desperate to gain back control of his show, he arranges for assistance. Knowing that the impending scandal was far too reprehensible to live down he attempts to bring in security. Security, HA! It really should have been the SWAT team. Typically large men should be able to take down a toothpick of a woman. Unfortunately when you have 50, crazed and beyond recognition, it becomes complicated. Two security officers entered and were instantly devoured in the sea of women. Scope rifle, anyone? 

In a sense Yvette and Cosette were lame sitting ducks, unaware of the doom that awaits them. Sequestered away from the common girls; Nigel’s prized dolls. No one was allowed to speak with them before, after or during the show. There would be no chance of the madness outside entering into that crystal ball dressing room. The room that was custom crafted from the finest crystal in the world especially for the twins. Orders from the Queen supreme herself couldn’t penetrate the perimeter. One minute until destruction, ahem, Showtime. 

The two-headed monster wobbles down the runway, clop-clop, stomp-stomp. There’s a hush over the crowd. Actually Nigel’s last piece is quite breath-taking. It really was a masterpiece. Such a shame. The girls walk out and it seems as though time has stopped. World Peace is possible. There’s a cure for Cancer. Flying Stiletto at 3 o’clock makes contact with the left temple piercing skin, meeting skull and incapacitating with its menacing intention. Razor sharp weapon. Yvette is going down like a sinking ship. Cosette tumbles with her. Bodies on the runway in a fashion. Crowd gasping and someone screams, “She’s DEAD!” Yvette’s eyes have rolled back into her head. Cosette is chained to her corpse twin unable to function and run without the life of her other half. Art imitates life. If one should die then so shall the other? The stampede ensues. People have begun to flee the show. Bloody, half dressed and mangled women pour out from backstage onto the catwalk towards poor helpless Cosette. The horde devours Nigel without effort. He’s been trampled to death by his own creation. 

Poor little Cosette. There was no time to escape. A frenzy of grabbing hands and kicking feet swarms forward at the girl enveloping her within. The small creature never emerges from the mob. Pieces of the fabric can be seen in the clutches of the depraved women. Eventually there are body parts coming out of the horde. Soon enough it becomes clear that there is no more of little Cosette and the pack begins to cannibalize upon itself. The models continue to rip each other to shreds. One might assume this was truly a moment in the wild, where a pack of animals has initiated an all out assault on another. Only the strong shall survive. 

The aftermath of war leaves the battlefield strewn with the bodies of wounded soldiers. The Showhouse has seen the better of days. Today’s unfortunate fashion civil war has left the once immaculate House of Rockford in shambles. The arms, legs and other remaining pieces of these once beautiful creatures are strewn across the blanket of red covering the floor. The lights illuminate and intensify the crimson effect on the catwalk. It pops. Jumps out. Screams, “Buy me!” It was to be the shining moment when the world would finally recognize the Nigel Rockford brand. Nigel was right about one thing, people would definitely stand-up and take notice. Well, no one would ever forget this show. Especially after all the bodies were found how could anyone possibly forget that? Definitely the “most extravagant” anyone had seen this year.

Wednesday, April 11, 2018


Of course you can tell the same story a thousand different ways... but why would you want to tell someone else’s story when you can tell your own? I prefer to hear people’s own stories instead of them replicating anothers tale.

Love yourself enough to write & live your own story. 

Kisses, m.


“When the music used to play…” he tells me in the sweet drawl of a voice that reminds me of being a little girl sitting under the lemon tree listening to his yarn. And just like then my grandpa pauses for a moment so I can ask the question that sets at the front of my mind. Because he knows I have a question. 

“Tell me about the music and how it used to play,” I tell him with a smile. It’s the same bright wide-eyed smile that only the inner child can produce from true sincerity. That inner child is something we never lose, some people simply forget that it’s there waiting to be released. 

“Well then, let me tell you about the music.” he says before telling me the story. 

Now a story from my grandpa was always a surprise to be sure. Sometimes wasn’t what I expected to hear but it ended up being what I needed to hear. There are some men in this world that some might call a prophet for the knowledge they possess and share is true. When these men speak that truth they tell it with the hope that others will soon discover the truth for themselves. I like to believe my granddad was something of a prophet for all those things he used to share with me always made sense in their own way at some later time.  

“And how it played on and on so very long ago.”

When the music played the good old boys in the band always sparked up the same way. It lifted their spirits and took their melodies soaring to new heights. Yet it was the same ol song no matter how they played it. And sadly it was the only thing they could muster the courage to play. It was the only one they knew. The only one he taught them to play. 

Reese De La Beautran was an interesting fellow. He had the gift of music from an early age. Earlier than most folks but later than others. He wasn’t a prodigy by any means. None in the least. But something happened when that boy picked up the violin. Magic and the movement of the soul. Reese couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but the people all around him seemed to come alive when he played. And that made his heart soar. It lifted and grew to new levels of joy within to see others happy. And it was by something so small that he could gift to them. As he could put no price on the value of their joy. 

Joy and happiness followed Reese wherever he went. It wasn’t something that he’d often thought twice about. His luck was something of a gift and whomever he was in league with benefited from that good fortune as well. It was something of a knack, his sweet music and so he went along playing it. Took his song with him to every city and every town. 

Now Reese was a happy type of fellow but like any other man he fell upon bad times once and again. Yet it wasn’t like other men when he did. Something about Reese went directly hand and hand with his music. Some might say that it was a blessing to be able to put your emotions into the work. Other simply called it curse. Mostly on account of what happened. 

And there are many accounts of what happened… it could only happen that way once. 

It was a show out in the middle of a tiny poke of a town, not much bigger than a dot on the map. Something was in the air that night. The folks that were there that night said it was like a hand crawling up your spine. The energy in the crowd was mighty strange. They didn’t know whether to enjoy the show or give into that odd sensation that had come upon them.

See, on that night before the band started up there had been a bit of misfortune. Reese learned about the passing of his mother. It wasn’t what one might call a simple passing. It was one of great pain and suffering. To talk about the pain won’t help you understand only know that what was told to Reese went without question as a nightmare come to life. The man wrestled with his thoughts, his wits and his own personal character before summoning the courage to walk out on that stage. 

But in the end all the wrestling couldn’t stop Reese from giving a performance. A show that some might have called the performance of a lifetime as it was purely driven from his soul. Others say something wicked took hold of that man when he stood out there playing his song that night. For what happened in the crowd was something unforeseen. 

When the band played it wasn’t the same. Reese called upon a new song that he’d been deep in thought about. When he told the boys “play it by ear” they knew it wasn’t the some old song they’d done before. Well the people took it in sweet somber, just like the same melodies they’d known. Starting out slow and crawling up their spines. Nice and slow it went. Richer, deeper and a bit of melancholy for flavor went the new melody. With every beat the crowd grew intoxicated by the rhythm. Some danced. Some cried with joy. Some laughed. Some made no sound at all. 

You see listening to someone’s song is an intimate experience. And on this night people where taking in a part of that man’s soul. Much like a painting captures the soul, a single note music heard carries a piece of that musician’s soul. And when Reese poured his soul into his craft on this occasion it surely changed the way a man takes a hold of another man’s music. For the melody shifted into a faster frenzy just as Reese transformed the sound something about the crowd shift.  

Much to people’s dismay there wasn’t not much anything that could be done.

One by one the silent people began to collapse without rhyme or reason. Tears moved to hysterics. Laughter became screams. Dancing became feverish.  And many stayed on listening without affection other than a foot tap or hand clap. Yet all involved were entranced by the song. A song that kept them facing onward. Reese curiously watched as both joy and pain wrapped into an interesting combination before him. An unusual spectacle to be sure of. Every person in the audience ensnared in the final moments of chaos. 

The band loved every note of it. Like a hungry animal they ate at every inch of direction he led. Nearly exhausted Reese kept the band moving upward and onward with the sound anticipating what would come next. The climax. 

Without a doubt it came. And Reese came down with it when it came. The end of the music and along with it came both applause and screams. It was as though they had awoken from a trance. The man saw his masterpiece equally as a curse. He saw the aftermath. The bodies of the unconscious strewn out among the happy and sad filled his heart with a small sadness. Even as he listened to the band weep behind him, begging for more he knew that this was it. Deep down from the grief he felt inside for his mother, Reese knew that there would be no more like that song. A song that he’d never forget but would tear at his soul. 

“And now when the band plays… they play the same ol song. It just never sounds the same way twice. But it’s sure enough the same.”

“It’s not the same if it’s different?”

“How can you be sure?” 

“I can’t. I guess I will know when I do.”

“And you’ll know when the band plays…”

Wednesday, February 28, 2018

10 by 8 by You

The thing that changed my life wasn’t a place, thing, or person. It wasn’t a camera, a portrait, writing or a book. It was finding Buddhism. I think my spirituality is what saved me from a lot of self destruction. It taught me to find focus on what I’m doing presently. I can’t say go out and be a Buddhist or that meditating is easy. Meditating is hard and being a Buddhist is just a label people wear. 

What I can say is this: the thing that will change your life and probably make it even better, is to focus on what you’re doing instead of yourself or anyone else. Sometimes we can’t help but focusing on our flaws, insecurities or what others are doing and compare... Every ounce of energy you focus on anything else but what you are doing is one less moment you are giving to the present moment. 

It’s not to say I don’t miss people or worry for them, I care very much. I simply do my best not to let my emotions consume my thoughts. It takes time to develop this. Learning to meditate or be able to clear my thoughts didn’t happen overnight. It took years, almost 5 or 6, to be exact and still another 2-3 years to fine tune.. Sometimes I even get off track still.. So don’t give up on the effort if it’s not working. 

Remind yourself... Stay Present. Try to love yourself. And if you can’t love yourself yet... I have love for you. 

Here’s a story about change...

Kisses, m.


“You changed.” He says when I walk through the door. I wanted to surprise him when I returned.

I miss his smile but he's not smiling when he says the words. I can't read if it's disappointment or hurt that I didn't tell him I would come.

“Yes, do you like?” I pause cautiously.

“It's darker. Your hair. And longer. You're thinner. Are you...?”

“Fine. I'm fine. I needed to be healthy and my hair did too.”

Stepping closer he touches my face and turns my head. His touch feels distant and foreign when he caresses my neck and runs his fingers through the length of my hair. 

“How are you?” I interrupt him before he can lean in to hug me. 

“Wondering why you didn't tell me. Where've you been for the last week? It's bad enough I can't see you cause you're miles away but to avoid my calls. And then show up like this? Like a stranger.”

Tightly gripping my hair he realizes his anger and let’s go. Grabbing his waist I pull before he can walk away. 

“I wanted to surprise you. I missed you and wrapped things up quickly. It took all week. 

“You scared me.”

“I didn't mean to.”

“When did you change?”

“The weight has been gradual but the hair is new. It's a little messy but...”

”It's perfect... Don't change a thing.” He says pulling me closer.

"Nothing?" I look into his eyes for reassurance.

"No." He says running his fingers across the small of my back and kissing the top of my head. 

"Really? I can think of something I would change right now?"

"What's that?" He leans back, smiling with that grin I've been missing for too long.

"Kiss me and never let me go again."

"We can do that."