a trip

that emptiness chased me down the road again and
hovered just behind me, whipping through the
wind like a flag eager to claim victory.
i couldn't help but acknowledge it, and
just before a turn in the road, i took
a deep breath in, and i felt
emptiness's dark spot growing in my belly.
at the bottom of the curve
i considered filling the void with
other people, outside thoughts,
vague distractions, and then my cowardice
occurred to me. so i came out of the turn with
an intention
to push myself into that blank space,
to fill the gap with my own wholeness,
my own attention, my own love.
it worked, in a way: i do have wholeness,
i can be attentive to myself, i have
love to offer me. but at the end of the road,
it turns out that me,
my wholeness, attention and love ... we
get awfully lonely.

ode to another, via the yamas

1. ahimsa: in thought, in body, in words, in energy, i hold you with compassion and protect you from violence
2. satya: we honor the truths that exist between us and for each of us separately, absolving our truth of moral judgment, acknowledging trust as the foundation of truth
3. asteya: i seek to take nothing from you; but rather enrich your life abundantly
4. brahmacharya: the foundation of our connection is rooted in soulful respect, complimented, deepened, but not spoiled, by pleasures of the flesh
5. aparigraha: we seek not to exploit one another, but rather have faith in our capacities and desires to provide for each other

i intend to

be devastated by my blessings; weep at the magnitude of my wealth; honor my footsteps across a wooden floor; caress each bathroom tile; kiss the windows, open, close them and kiss them anew like old friends; shock my body with each bite i take; savor every single dollar that's mine to spend; hold a vigil of silence and then a vigil of raucousness; long for my own skin and then, realizing that i've had it all along, hold a joyous celebration for its unexpected return; wait anxiously to see if night falls and, if it does, wonder curiously if dawn will break again; consider every moment in aching love to be a miracle wrapped as a precious gift in brown paper with silk ribbon, open each with unbelieving wonder and accumulate them with loving tenderness; push my body against bubbly molecules of air, swimming, floating, riding them down the sidewalk; consider whether god prefers my conversation over eggs and toast at the table or as midnight pee break soliloquies in a darkened bathroom; sit gently, open my body, move slowly, see beauty and trust life as much as i trust my red lamp