for the most part i have been very bitter about much of the trauma i have survived throughout my life. it is a fact that one of my childhood developmental tasks was to figure out how to survive chronic physical, sexual and emotional violence. and the effects that are still threatening to take my life from me even to this day. more recently the thought has occurred to me that i might be able to learn a different relation to this history. that i might be able to feel differently about my life both past and present. indeed i have been very clever about avoiding this path— could we call it the path of wisdom?—because of the emotional pain that i thought it would entail. i have been, at least, clever enough to sense the pain involved and it scared me. i understand now that cleverness does not suffice. that the only way out of hell requires wisdom, the wisdom to accept real, tangible, living pain as a part of existing in a body subject to the causes and conditions of the universe.


no walls, no guns

it seems to me that creativity consists both of a feeling of comfort as well as daring to live beyond comfort, even to the point of one’s demise or scorn. to achieve this, we composite ourselves, create a collage on the verge of nonsense, that just scoots itself over the edge into some ventriloquized, “surged up in the world” (pace jp sartre) sense that others (perhaps) can make some sense of. the artist is someone who seeks an impetus of creativity, a chance to escape from some condition in creativity, in a commitment to creating and being created (the artist affects/effects and is affected/effected by her work). and we want the same for the audience.

what does god want from me, today?
god has given me today.
i do not know about tomorrow.

everything that enters the present moment is impermanent, including suffering. come into this moment with me and watch suffering lose its power. watch it dissolve simply, in the water of your life. can you show me anything that does not pass through the present? i do not see it.

when i suffer, i have the opportunity to learn about suffering. to see exactly in what way it is passing through the present moment. and if i can notice how i am also something passing through (the same moment), i think we can be companions instead of adversaries. learning. what?

it has taken me 50 years to that point when one admits to writing poetry

when i write a poem i’m hoping to carry the reader through to a silence they’ve never heard before

dialectical behavior therapy draws upon the classical greek notion that though in discussion there is no Truth, yet a certain sense of freedom may be let loose upon the world

the word reality comes from a root meaning property. and because unguarded property is lost, as soon as we have our reality, we have our requirement: to defend it and keep it.

and if i learn to believe another way?

if thinking is a sensory experience, what is called love?