new frontiers

it's not so much the job as the spirit with which we do the job, the integrity that bolsters each move. steady as she goes. i've been thinking about my favorite john lennon tune 'watchin the wheels', which i first started listening to at age 4 when my ears were level with the 9 inch speakers in my dad's '65 GMC. and from my four-year-old mind i imagined a person thoroughly entertained by watching wheels, like the mesmerizing effect of a spinning windmill. then as i got a little older, i imagined john wanting to unplug from the 'merry-go-round' of the music industry. but just two nights ago, i was outside looking up at a glittering dome of stars and i heard the Voice arise, the voice of ancestors and spirits past whispering suspicious thoughts and shaking out the spare change in my belly. and then i panned out above the Voice and watched this mechanism as if separate from me, which in truth it is. i was 'watchin the wheels' of my thinking as opposed to 'riding on the merry-go-round' of my neurosis. sometimes you gotta get gospel on it and command with divine authority "get behind me satan!"

la marriage

there it is again!
like a crescent moon slice of darkness,
she appears as if from nothing at all.
i am at once her servant and slave,
a mere tress in the wind.

if i could i would devour,
leaf by leaf your naked tree
and leave you standing
with only the whisper of wind
and the ache of wanting.

riding the moon

there's something virginal about making love after my moon cycle is complete.
something so untouched and pristine, every breath feels like a new beginning.
making senses through primordial shedding,
a deep abiding surrender to that which is bigger than me.

polyisocyanurate

blank and even blanker than that is the emptiness before the virgin. all life long pouring out, 'till the gossamer thread catch somewhere, till the ductile anchor hold...' we are loosely fit puzzle pieces, linked so inextricably to the next event and yet like candles in the dark, we can only see to the canopy edge of our thinking, neglecting the infinite world beyond. when i think of someone, is that person thinking of me too? what if i'm thinking about meg ryan or shakespeare? they most likely aren't thinking about me, so this theory is obviously flawed. then why do i still believe it? i've experienced the aching, or more like gnawing, feeling in my core when i think of someone. is that sensation a validation of the reciprocation somewhere out in the ether, our spirits meeting? it gets weird and even weirder than that is knowing that there is so much more going on here.

the missing link

a james taylor record on a sunday morning, hot coffee, children in the sun...i miss my family, my parents. i want them near to enjoy the simple joys of life, to see my kids running around in footed pajamas, spinning dance circles around the living room "winter spring summer or fall, you've got a friend." oh strange world we live in, separated by the option of living apart. in the old days (and in many countries present-day), generations of families lived together for better and worse. the idea of each family member building their own independent worlds was unthinkable. oh abundant universe, hear my prayer -- bring my family near.

dream gifts

DREAM:

I'm approaching a large colosseum-style building. I'm drawn by the sound of the injunction song for RavI Shankar's 'Chants of India,' a great pulsing song, steady as a heartbeat. In the dream, all the animals I've had as pets (who have died) are with me -- I have a parrot named chico on my shoulder and another in flight beside me; my dog, shadoe, trots contentedly beside me and we all are in procession to the great event happening inside the colosseum. The feeling in my bones is that this event is for me, but as I look around and see others all streaming into the colosseum, I realize that everyone feels this is for them. Then I know the infinite Love of our true Home, each of us the subjects of our own ceremony, held in honor of the divinity we all possess.

DREAM:

I dreamt that i died and not in any horrific sense of the word, although there was that moment, suspended midair as T and I propel off the cliff in our car. T and I look at each other and without words, we communicate that this is it, our end has arrived. Then we drop and drop and drop, and when it's time to hit the bottom, instead of immense pain, I experience the most intense relief i've ever known. it's all the accumulated moments of relief i've ever experienced, combined into one joyous, sweet feeling. I am aware of the weight of my skin and my body, which i am now free of and all the work it takes to survive on this earth, eliminated once and for all.
so I do not fear death, nor do i seek it.

lobotomy for the sexes

i pulled up to their shiny black car and saw their smiling faces inside. "hey amber, where are ya headed?" jeff asked with his foster park cowboy talk. i said "just dropped off charlie at school. now i'll go home and work on that article. since i didn't work on it yesterday, i feel a little..."
at this moment both jeff and kasey interjected -- kasey said "stressed" and jeff finished the sentence with "refreshed." i laughed and said "that pretty much sums up your two personalities! and mine and ted's too!" we had a good laugh about it and went our separate ways, but it left me thinking about how different men and women are in general. at least that's what i'm hoping. i'm hoping it's not just ted and i that think so differently 99% of the time. the truth was that i felt stressed, just like a woman should. stress gets shit done. maybe it's not true for a man's brain, which when faced with stressful situations, switches off and starts receiving messages from his penis, his other head. men have sex to relieve stress; women need to be un-stressed to have sex. i'm generalizing here, and i'm sure there are plenty of women who have stress reduction sex.
but i often wonder in my marriage if i'm crazy or if we REALLY think differently most of the time. for example, i'm nursing H and talking to a friend on the phone on a bench outside the restaurant, and ted says he's going for a walk. he tosses me the keys and says he's walking down el roblar. now i have both kids at the restaurant, and H is falling asleep on me, so i no longer have free hands. i wait for over an hour, enjoying my conversation, but definitely ready to leave. when he pulls up in his friend's car and has no idea why i would wonder where the *bleep* he's been, i have to pause and ask myself, "does he really not know how i'm feeling? is it possible he truly wasn't thinking that i would want to leave?" no he doesn't think like this at all. the moment he told me he was walking on el roblar and tossed me the keys, he was communicating 'come pick me up when you're ready.'
now this is just a day in the life, and thousands of these interactions have happened in the course of our marriage. so one must concur, men are from mars and women from venus. two entirely different entities expected to cohabitate, make decisions together and attempt to decipher the other's martian subtleties. good luck! i can see why so many marriages end in divorce! it takes some serious grit to not only tolerate one another, but actually learn to appreciate the differences. i'm still in training on this one. lord knows i love that man :)