Young man disappeared into the machine last morning
His breath shook when powder dissolved into bloodstream
(Euphoria)
Waves pulse through the body
Minds give way to rituals that divide life from lifelessness
All else fades as the pulse slips away
Come here, said the fly to the spider
I’ve been looking all over for you . . .
There was a quiet little stream that ran down through the rocks on the side of a mountain. I remember that everything was so crisp and green. The leaves on the trees and the earth was deep and rich with color.
I had never walked in the mountains before. I never went on a hike or went anywhere other than my normal running grounds, which were less than beautiful and far from this colorful.
It was the end of summer, 1989. I was still feeling achy but the aches were improving. I was only in a few days, and by this point, I was unsure when I would ever be back home again.
There is a fantasy that everything in life has to be a certain way. Men are men, and women are women. There is a black and white design, almost like a cookie-cutter recipe, in which, whenever we veer away from the normal or stray from the common path, somehow, there is an idea that life is not supposed to be like this.
For some reason, there are people that associate difference with right or wrong. But why?
There was an idea that I wrote a long time ago which needs to be repeated. There are times when life is tough. This happens to everyone.
Everyone hits a rough patch. Everyone has “One of those days,” or weeks, or even months. Or, look at us now.
It is official that 2020 has not been the kindest year.
With all the concerns and quarantines and the recent tensions of riots and protests, safe to say that 2020 is a good year to learn from our mistakes.
I was deep into my time at the farm. I had nearly forgotten what it was like to wake up in my own room or sleep late. I was living a dorm life in a farmhouse. The rules and regulations were never my favorite. Neither was the showering times or the bathrooms.
I have to admit it, like it or not, the replacement of time was me, away from my regular home in a quasi-institution.
Just so you know . . .
the world is a better place because you’re in it.
If you ask me, you compliment the world.
You fit perfectly in spite of what you think sometimes.
Trust me on this one.
The question is what’s in a word?
What is in a word that we invest so much in or allow them to either build or destroy us?
Why do we give in so often or allow what someone says to define or decide how we live, think, act or feel?
What is it about a simple word or what people say that can either build us up or rip us apart in the blink of an eye?
A word can change the face of the day. A word can change perspective. A word can bring a smile or cause a tear.
I know it has been a while since my last letter to you. So much has happened and I’m not sure if I know exactly where to begin.
I’m not even sure if you would believe me if I told you, but anyway, here it goes, Mom.
Are you ready?
I’m not sure if you get the news where you live but life has been interesting down here to say the least.
There is no mistake anymore. In order to move ahead there has to be a strategy. There needs to be a plan because there is no more room for guess work. We already know what we don’t want.
We know about the things we don’t want to feel.
There are times (like now, maybe) when the world is still moving. The sun is out and everyone is living life, but yet, deep down, there is a piece of darkness on the inside that overshadows the light that brightens our path.
I am reminded of a quote from Shakespeare. He said, “Civil blood makes civil hands unclean.” It seems all of our hands are a little dirty sometimes. It seems like everyone has an opinion. Everyone has an agenda.
Meanwhile, the world is still turning. Life is still going on and you, me, us, and everyone else in the world is still trying to find their way in this crazy place. Such is life down here on Project Earth.
The Written Addiction 