cool early spring air. breezes off the lake. romantical gondaliers rowing towards the dock. ginger cosmos easing a weeks' worth of tensions...shared food, big platters. spicy lentils, braised collards and spongy injera to wrap it all up. honey wine flowing. late arriving to the show...the theater dark and the crowd seated. we fumble to our seats. on stage: life. sound. color. hope. rhythm. perseverance. flowing out into the filled auditorium. i tap my boot, i close my eyes, i take it all in. the ride home...three bikes, four riders...our faces to the cold night air, a nearly-full moon glowing above us and the night heron taking leave from the shore as we pass...welcome, spring. i am glad you're here...i'm glad i'm here...

today, it's courage. admittedly, i am often uncertain of whether i'm being courageous or defiant...my maneuvers don't always land me in the favor of those whose favor i should seek. but these words about courage made me think i may be on a good track...

'courage has roots. she sleeps on a futon on the floor and lives close to the ground. courage looks you straight in the eye. she is not impressed with powertrippers, and she knows first aid. courage is not afraid to weep, and she is not afraid to pray, even when she is not sure who she is praying to. when courage walks, it is clear she has made the journey from loneliness to solitude. the people who told me she is stern were not lying. they just forgot to mention that she is kind.'

i got a new book yesterday. called 'the book of qualities.' recommended by my dear friend sorrel. it's wonderful. poetic and artistic renderings of everyday emotions and essences. you may see some popping up here from time to time. the one that hit me today was devotion. 

 'devotion lights candles at dusk. she braids her grandmother's hair with an antique comb. she works as an ecologist at the university. she wears long flowing tunics with bright cotton pants. she has never taken a dance class, but she moves with an unstudied grace, sensitive to the edge where her body meets the air. devotion balances periods of great stillness with times of movement and exuberance. she has prayed in many temples and seen evidence of God in unlikey places. she keeps a postcard of Saint Francis above her desk. a Yemenite amulet hangs in her window. always she remembers to honor the Mother.'

i long for a time when devotion comes for a visit and stays for a long time. she is a frequent, but quick house guest. she tries to enjoy my home, but she has a hard time being in this city. it's rough for her here. all of the transience. and the people who move too fast for her slow and intentional ways. she feels invisible and afraid when she's here...but i've promised her that i'll have a home where she can stay, protected, some day...

i'm getting a little nervous. a few months ago, i started reading 'the artsist's way' and meeting with a friend to track our progress in revealing our inner artists to the world. a few silly writing exercises, drawings and romantic dates with myself later, and i can't stop thinking about just letting out what's been caught within. and with that, i've felt a shift in my concsiousness...a preparation of sorts. i'm hearing  sounds differently; seeing sights from alternate perspectives; feeling emotions in new ways. for instance, i don't just hear certain words anymore...but i see them as cartoon images of letters nestling close together and rapidly vibrating. or i see a  pair of cockeyed elvis-like lips, slowly speaking the sounds out. everyday events aren't just occuring anymore...but  they are flowing into being, perfectly choreographed to the silent soundtrack of a cinematic masterpiece borne from the quotidienne. i find myself staring at length at the sequins and glitter on my desk; things which reflect the emanating light. i want to stay home from work every day and take thick pens to large pieces of paper and write, write, write! i want to catch the glint in someone's eye and take their arm and adventure with them as though we've been friends for days...barreling through the expected and usual and just getting straight to the good stuff. the devil on my shoulder tells me to be practical. to give up these childish hopes and dreams. to focus. but i still don't want to give up. at 31, i'm not ready to resign...i'm just even more ready to GO...but to where?