it’s late and i’ve been having trouble sleeping. i try to walk through this world open & delighted. i aim to listen, to lead with compassion, to be open & vulnerable & trust. i think this world & the people within it are dazzling. i try to forgive those that have wronged me & myself for when i’ve wronged others. on the surface it’s very easy for me to share the shining sparkling things. things that have brought me joy & in turn i hold hope that they might bring you some too. i share a lot on here & at the same time i keep a lot to myself. i think it matters that i’m honest now in sharing that this tumultuous life is strenuous & at times it’s defeating. even so, it has always been dazzling and i guess what i’m trying to say is that even when you are dazzled to let the temporary blindness fade and then find your sight again. love you love this world love everything in it.

sometimes i wish we’d never met, but regret is a language i’ve exiled from my tongue. yet there it is, uttering soft whispers in my ear, willing my tongue to curl and my teeth to grind. wishing is something i know and love, it’s been soft and dainty and blowing dandy lion puffs has always been one of those perfect succinct analogs that children discovered; close your eyes and let the wind float the seed far and wide and they shall surely grow. but you see, that’s the difference. growth is a telescope and a compass and a full tank of gas. wishing at the past might as well be wailing into the wind. it is looking back and aimlessly following footsteps through sand, trying to sweep the old ones away, while marking new ones as you tread.

i once wrote an ode to letting go and swearing that that second glance would be my last, but i couldn’t hold my word and no matter how much i sweep i can feel the grains of sand beneath my feet.

It’s late and for many different reasons I’ve been having trouble sleeping. I’ve been willing the words to come, but they haven’t until now.

I can hear my next door neighbor playing something sad and lonely on an electric guitar. It’s horribly mellow and slide-y and soothing and once in awhile it sounds like he’s taking a long pause, maybe he’s thinking, maybe he’s drinking.

He never has the blinds down, I have no idea what the inside of his house looks like. When we’ve spoken he’s been kind and chipper and sweet. I think he’ll stay in his house until every house in the neighborhood gets bought and until every inch of visible skyline around him is shrouded by condominiums and I think he’ll die alone.

We are all obstinate. We set our sights on some goal and hold it in our hearts until we reach it and sometimes we never will and sometimes those goals and our own stubbornness will crush us.

You showed me your vulnerability, you made yourself uncomfortable in being comfortable with me. You sang me a song and said “I’m no good at lying,” and I think that’s funny now.

You will remain in your house alone with the blinds still shut and before anyone can even begin to open them, it will be demolished and there will be no skyline left in sight.

I felt compelled to write this sometime between committing to sleep and dawn and I think that we’ve talked about this moment when the words “arrive” and maybe we’re just the mediums, but even if I never give this to you it was meant to be written down.

I’ve never been good at words of affirmation. They don’t come to me so readily the way touch & presence & care & nurture come. But in you I see something curious & intriguing & buried & sheltered underneath behind your big tall walls is vivacity and a very bright light. I think you know that and I think you diminish it. I think you snuff it out by dispersing it with a far and wide reach. I think you admonish yourself for being too bright because others have stolen that from you before and you don’t want that to happen again.

So I’m trying - I guess - to write down in words that you do have this unctuous, savory, crunchy, warm luminosity and only in small moments do you let it rip out of you and it’s huge and it’s more than charming, it’s breathtaking like the first time seeing something truthfully beautiful, like that tree in golden hour light or that person when the light hits them just right.