My head smiles at the sight of the winds.
I can find myself here, happily empty without the need to fill
or be fulfilled and instead, or more obscurely,
to be found in the happiness of pure detachment,
as if to be away from the grind, away from the passive/aggressiveness
of our daily office politics or to be away from the hustle
and the need to be “on” as if to mean to be away
from the constant need to keep your cards close to the vest,
to watch your back all the time, or to hide vulnerability,
and to be away from the back and forth arguments-
This is the ultimate destination.
Of course, this is where I want to be; but more,
this is where I belong. Of course it is.
With you, with a place in mind where the bugs of life
are gone and the commonplace intrusions have evaporated
beneath the sun at a place where dreams come from.
Or, should I say that this is where dreams are made? And yes,
this is where dreams come true and where dreams ripple in gentle tides
in a bay which is far, far away from downtown
or One Liberty Plaza.
I see my place now in all of its glory.
I see my world and all of its daily constructs. I see the daily mishaps
and work-life cultures that can often dismantle our grip on sanity
which, at times, can be enough to make someone choke;
or, if not choke, it’s enough to make me shake my head
because I swore, at some point, we’d have all left high school behind.
But no, popularity, power and social climbing is still a part of our social
and professional network. Say what you will or tell me how people
refuse to fall in line, but even in our refusal to play along,
we’re still a part of this game. Like it or not.
To be clear, I would love to reject this model.
I would love to walk away from the banter
and the back-and-forth nonsense, but hey,
we live in a working world
where people work to make their living.
But me, this is where I differ.
I’m not working to make a living.
I’m working to build options; so therefore
I work to create the chance that my options
will open up and one day, trust me . . .
you’ll see.
But for now:
Yes, the working world is alive and well with immaturity.
Same as where you sat in the cafeteria as a kid
would set up your social structure in school,
it is my unfortunate responsibility to report the following:
Not much has changed.
Where you sit and who you sit next to in boardrooms
or conference rooms depicts your professional status
and shows where you are in the so-called pecking order.
I see this all the time.
But me?
My mind is elsewhere.
I am absent and present and in the same context,
I am wishing and working on this thing I call “my trick”
which is to go ahead and pull off
my best version of “abracadabra”
and then, poof, just like that, my magic can take its place.
My heart is warm when I think of the exit strategy. I need this
I need this view to feed me, to comfort me
and to support my habit; in which case,
I have made it my habit to get up,
each day, like it or not and work on this thing
which I call my dream.
I want this.
I want this and the recovery which comes
after healing from years on the grind.
Decades of this; of making my way through,
of smiling when, of course, I’d much rather shout
or tell someone what they can do with their opinion,
which involves a certain part of their southern anatomy,
or a cavity, so-to-speak
and straight up there too – all the way up there buddy
as in deep enough that they recognize their tank is full
and their opinion is meaningless.
But ah, to be detached would mean to be detached from this;
in which case, every moron, jerkoff, or idiot
would be nothing more than unobjectionable.
It’s a working world out there, which is not to say
that all days are bad days and all people
should wear a sign that reads,
“Warning, I will ruin your entire week!”
There is, however, a short list of a few so-called angels.
I see them. I know some of them too.
They come without wings.
They come along to remind us of our worth and our truth,
and, somehow, they distract us from the daily bullshit
which goes on like a steady flow
or a constantly flushing toilet.
I am, of course, someplace else, at times,
like on the shoreline of a dream and again, comfortably empty
and constructively uninvolved or even if at minimum, I am away
from the swerving cabs that dodge tourists
and free from the City pedestrians on Lexington Avenue.
Instead, I am in a place your glory, Holy, I feel
where the shoreline meets the sunshine
and where I live now is here, in the aftermath of the sunrise
where the waves tumble into sand which, of course,
is where the wind that takes my soul and, therefore,
I am taken in by the symphony of the tides
which chimes from the breeze as the earth turns.
Think of it . . .
Think of the absolute quietness.
Shhh . . .
There’s nothing else to hear.
I know that I cannot be more than me.
I can’t be him or her or anyone else. I know where I sit
and who’s who in the boardroom and that’s fine.
Besides, I’m done with the social echelons and the favored few.
I’m done with their bullshit tactics or claims for inclusion
which only includes the social elite, and me . . .
I’m not elite by any means.
I’m not even sure that I want to be, at least not anymore.
I know that above all things, I am this at best,
which is me, which is also hopeful that at some point, somehow,
and in some way, I will find a plan to pull off my trick.
I swear this is more than just a disappearing act.
This is more than a case of the hand being faster than the eye.
And yes, this is magic. Make no mistake about it
This is the total and complete absolution and release
from the prior weights and priorities,
and from previous responsibilities,
mistakes, sins, and an abandonment of life on life’s terms.
This trick is more than a visual concept and more
than just a spiritual awakening
to change someone’s religious beliefs.
No, this is a different trick.
And, if I pull this off, this is a trick
that no one has ever seen before.
(At least I hope not.)
I do not have what I do not have and thus,
what I have is this –
I have me and my hopes and the pictures in my head
which keep me alive from time to time,
especially when the subway is crowded
and the smell is close to what I like to call
ungodly.
I’ve been at this for a while now.
And so now, it’s time to find relief.
I have this trick which is beyond the stages of contemplation
and in this stage of concept, my hopes and dreams
and the desires to see the world from a different viewpoint
are stronger now more than ever before.
I have this tiny spark which is still alive after all these years. In fact,
I’m still alive too, hence the spark, which is still raging
because although there’s much to contend with in daily life,
my dreams can never be doused or squashed or extinguished
by the downpours of rainy days
which occur when we need the sun the most.
I have a hunch that if, of course, I can have this;
if I can create this and if, of course, my dream to pull off my trick
comes to fruition and that all comes true; then at last,
I will understand where it was and why it took place.
Of course, I’ll know the reasons why I traveled and backpedaled,
I’ll know why I fell and got back up.
I’ll understand why I laughed and cried, bled and sweat,
and to come to a conclusion; finally, I’ll know that what I did
was done just to make my dream turn into reality.
I do not go to work for the food and friends
I do not train to reach the top of the amateur level
No, it’s not about beating the best to be the best.
No, that’s not it.
I’m hear for one reason . . .
to pull off my trick because when I do,
at last, I would have this dream
which would mean so much to me
because included with all things; you are part of this dream
which means that you have been with me since the beginning of time –
and, therefore, you and me
will never be apart or stray or hurt or afraid again.
Look.
Look at my hands.
These hands have held my life in the palms of excess, distress,
and through the trial and errors of mistakes and success,
if allowed and if the winds grace my face
and if the sun shines down in me,
these are the hands that will design my trick
so that when opening night comes and the curtain goes up,
trust me –
you will be right there, front row,
center stage to hear me say, “Ta-Da!”
So, get ready!
It is early Sunday morning.
The rain just let up
it’ just trickling now.
The sky is a tiresome shade of gray.
The grass is green at last and the colors of spring
will act in contrast to the morning.
It’s sad. Maybe lugubrious
but beautiful too
and peaceful which gives us the right to rejoice
Someday though . . .
There’s a place called Baja California,
which has a coastline that stretches for 2,038 miles.
There’s an island, north of Cabo Pulmo,
just east from La Paz and on the opposite side
of Baja’s Magdalena Bay.
The Island is called La Isla Espiritu Santo,
which translates to The Holy Spirit island.
I love these names and how they match pretty words
with a place to inspire my dreams.
This is where I am now
This is where my heart is
warming in the sun
La Isla Spiritu Santo . . .
It’s a short boat ride to an otherwise uninhabited island.
That’s all
This is a place which, like I was saying,
is happily detached from all and yes,
if I pull of my trick, it would mean everything to me
to stand with my feet in the sands;
to feel the water washing over my ankles
and reaching the shore – to feel the sun on my face
and, to me, to be baptized in the light and
washed by the blood of the sea.
To be cleansed from all
Like I said.
My head smiles at the sight of the winds.
This means everything to me . . .
And just between us,
now you know why.
The Written Addiction 