notes on writing

i no longer wait to be inspired to write. one need not wait for rain, to irrigate the land. i block off time every morning to string the words together in a way that captures how i feel. might be 5 words. might be 500. keep digging, you will ultimately find water.

then i turn to some larger body of work – #wip – occupying my every day mind and heart. focus on the immediate work in progress brings me back in alignment with the gods.

meditation 7

Today i prepare some words for a reading… i am fighting… i am grieving the loss of a spiritual teacher… i am celebrating what’s left of winter in california… i am breathing… i am thinking and trying to stay in gratitude… i am in the past… the future… i am breathing… i am curious… i am noticing how sensitive i am… i am noticing how angry i can get… how easily i can give up… how resilient i am… how i fight for my right to be fully awake and alive… i am lucky… i am fortunate… my life has been funny… tragic… almost monotonous at times with repetitions… life is a reality worth facing not running from… full of things i love and hate and have to accept… fear and anger and sadness are various forms of energy… i breathe into them toward some truth…  with a wish to live and love and be loved.

jammies from deedees

How could i harbor ill will toward you in your panda bear pajamas? i asked you please take them off so we could go on fighting. you were making the funny sounds only pandas make. you refused the burgers i cooked us for lunch. i found you terrorizing the plants. thank god the kid was at school. i shoved you in our pet carrier,  drove you to the sanctuary and released you deep in the forest. you bounded away. i was at home reading the newspaper days later when i heard and saw your paws on the glass. you were staring at me, head swollen with white hairs growing heavy on your face. such dark circles under and around your eyes. fortunately the kid was at school. i opened the door and you bolted in. you climbed the staircase by the banister and went to hide. i found you in the laundry basket with our clothes. i spoke to you softly. the basket started humming and i knew you understood. all my anger subsided. i could tell your heart was happy. i made a foolish decision, they say. i got myself tiger jammies from deedees, our favorite thrift. the kid was at school. thank god she’s learned the computers so she can pay our bills online, and order all our oats and seeds and plants in bulk from south america. how else would we survive?

kiss my toes

For a time we lived in squalor before we won the lottery on a simple scratcher that made us two hundred dollars which we fought about how to distribute, then agreed to use half of it to pay our landlord back, took the remaining hundred to the casino and made a thousand, fought some more after the champagne toast, and paid off our credit card with half of that, took five bills to the race track and made five thousand on Lucky Sinner, invested in a multi level marketing scheme and doubled that on diet pills, took a trip to Hawaii and made love on a beach of hot lava while tripling our profits on bitcoin,  bought a Tesla back in the States, drove it to Reno and lost a quarter of our earnings on blackjack,  stayed with it, switched to craps, sold our souls to the devil on a payment plan, made it back to black and then some. we saw our luck was yet alive. we sank all our profit into the dark web for a windfall, flipped a few houses in the city, and now we live like kings and queens and pay someone to clean up after us and our drone armada which takes up half our six car garage. i like to watch you race them on the weekends. i have my yoga studio on the mezzanine floor. i can now stand on my head for five minutes and kiss my toes. funny how we still start our day like we did before we had anything:  a pot of coffee, cigarettes, and our defiant kinda love. i suppose that’s something hard living gave us. that’s something real and coded with a tang pushing off the aura. i love you. let’s never let it go.

(this story, by Katya Mills, originated on Wattpad.

the 14 twenty

your fingertips might really start pressing

playing the keys and then you know you’re telling the truth

don’t stop. let it all out. don’t answer your phone

for god’s sake don’t go near social media! keep typing

don’t censor your thoughts no matter how awful they may seem to you

they are only thoughts

 

the magic dust is the truth you are telling

people will be outraged. people will love you and hate you for it.

don’t stop! keep on. your truth is more valuable than anything else!

classix

they say there is life outside but i do not believe them. it’s been twenty years since the last tree stood down on earth. get your tickets, don’t be left behind, join the migration to mars. we really burned this earth. only photos remain of whales and lions and elephants. by last measure humanity numbered under five million. the oldest among us have memories of forests and birds and snails. electricity long since failed. i have not enough money to travel, i guess this is my fate. i burn these books but only to stay warm. i’ve long since exhausted titles by climate change deniers. biographies of pop culture icons. poorly written ghost writer crap. god forbid the day i have to tap into my classics.