Being you

Being me for me always implies some degree of being you. My nature doesn't come with built-in walls and noise cancellation and convenient, numb dampening. It must be comfortable to be cushioned, exposed largely only to your own thoughts. I can do that if i am alone in the forest. Or if i live very … Continue reading Being you

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The Franciscan snake

A snake bit me in the Pyrenees It was the Franciscan snake Of empty-handedness, humility and trust If i want to help you, I cannot do more than the Biblical God. Yhwh (being the one who is) I can easily wait for you for decades I think i gave up talking And thinking Thank you … Continue reading The Franciscan snake

Normalising heartbreak, handling the water.

Shattering shapes of a rigid shell In the end it is nothing more than that To make room for the flow Which is moister, closer to the ground. More humble, unassuming, which hugs the Earth. Knowing how to break fluently And dispose of the scaffolding of thought and plan Quickly To partake in the quicksilver … Continue reading Normalising heartbreak, handling the water.

Crumbling the Berlin wall

People are different here. They don't send money back home to their parents. Instead, their parents buy them cars or houses. . They don't hang on to life and sanity with the last claws of their humanity, will power, focus. Many walk placidly. There is indifference and distance. . They are reasonably comfortable. Perhaps explore … Continue reading Crumbling the Berlin wall

Iron Curtain 2018. (Wherein I cross my childhood border and revisit spiritual remnants of the Berlin wall.)

I crossed this border once again. The mythic border, across the river in the mist in the mornings, heading towards the sunrise, when i was a very small child. it's ingrained in my brain, perception and heart even though there is no border here anymore. Even the Syrians can apparently pass. No one controlled me. … Continue reading Iron Curtain 2018. (Wherein I cross my childhood border and revisit spiritual remnants of the Berlin wall.)

I wear other people’s clothes

I wear other people's clothes. I can't resist wanting to know what it's like to be you. Maybe it's better than being me. . Maybe it's a bit of relief from being me. A north star, because being me is disorienting. Quiet and disorienting in that no one has taught me to read the shapes … Continue reading I wear other people’s clothes