02 10 / 2014

Today is Gandhi’s birthday;
he was shot dead on my father’s fifth birthday
on my ninth birthday, Princess Diana’s car smashed her life away
sending shockwaves through the hearts of her millions of fans,
while colonial fires still ravage my father’s homelands

and i wonder…

What does a third-degree burn look like in a forest?
Alberta’s tailing ponds?
Brazil’s once-Amazon?
or the fact that the middle east’s deserts used to be some of the densest woods you could set eyes upon

How much sand has been burned in our hearts
as we guard fragile seeds in a world torn apart?
paved over with so little compassion
and all of the modern hip techno-fashion
of Monsanto’s pre-apocalyptic GMO fart.

So when i think of the mysterious karmic path
that my birthday caused Diana’s car to crash
and my father’s had Gandhi shot in the back
i wonder where do i plant hope…
when we pedestal tiara’s over this paved wasteland
and ignore the old souls tending seeds with their hands
and demonize bombs blocking banks building sand?

My heart is a battlefield beating fierce and fragile
each time our world awakens another dawn
each time a garden replaces a front lawn
each time a wolf hunts down a baby fawn,
bracing itself for the beat it will skip
when someone inevitably cries their outrage
that a once-common hunter was spared Alberta’s oil-soaked cage.

We want tiara’s with diamonds born from rainbows
gold and silver tickled from out between unicorn toes
but when i ask how our great grandchildren will grow
to speak silently with the trees
to dance and court tenderly all of the bees
i feel so much unease,
as i fear in this moment that no one here knows

and so it goes.
my heart shocked back as i remember we all know
and i smile at cracked concrete where wild flowers grow,
and standing here tonight at this oh-so-soulfelt show:
we know!
as much as that flower is the budding of a forest
we are the seeds of a future liberated from both bombs and bulldozers.

A wise faceless voice once whispered in my ear
a voice more than any other i hold dear:
to know and not to act is not to know
and so i continue to scream: STOP! OFF WITH THIS SHOW!
…who knows what life breathes below
this concrete jungle we’ve been raised to call home;
our hearts beat in sync with each bulldozer blow
but with each building built we all feel more alone.

The heart’s battlefield is also a hope
that we’ll rise to escape all of Hollywood’s tropes,
our futures are ancient
these seeds they are patient
so put down that bomb, that remote and that vacant
stare you return when offered this rope;
your umbilical cords they were never cut,
don’t let some damn doc tell your body what’s up!
there is wisdom within it deeper than the paperwork of 10 billion PhDs;
scrape your knees on the trees
let the bees be your keys
as you sneeze like a breeze
our great-grandchildren are not doomed to suffer our ridiculous allergies.

you. are not. allergic. to pollen.
pollen is appalled by the shadow that’s fallen
in a world that’s competin’ to see who’s most ballin’
break our backs for the banks, let the wealthy escape;
that nuclear waste dump just murdered one more lake.

Imagine a future where we all learn to breathe,
where we know to love fiercely not just stomp and seethe;
we’ve got to stop asking “hey! what about me?!”
two eyes for each I and the whole world might see.

So next time you’re asked about princesses and prophets,
Presidents’ paparazzi all proving them puppets,
close your eyes, take a breath and a beat, don’t forget:
you are not doomed to be money’s limp marionette;
do not worry who died on your day of birth
you were born with a heartbeat as loud as the earth.

29 9 / 2014

i’ve come to embrace a knowing that depression isn’t about sadness, it’s about being held back from choosing happiness.

happiness is a choice; it must be, otherwise it is only pleasure. but that in no way means that depression is surpassed with a choice. it means we — as people, families, communities, societies, institutions — must constantly do all that we can to make happiness the easiest and most accessible choice… to the point that we even choose to be happy for what we learn in and from sadness.

sadness begets sadness and happiness begets happiness, so choose happiness whenever you can, not only for yourself, but also because your choice empowers others. and whenever you feel stuck or trapped somewhere dark, somewhere where that choice feels impossible and offensive, pray and ask and hope for everyone who can be happy to be happy, and eventually, hopefully in this lifetime, you too will have choices <3

08 9 / 2014

sitting on the couch at 2:40am, i can’t take myself to bed;
the lines between “can’t” & “won’t” have lost all definition — my will power has become ridiculously entangled in my obsession with interdependence and dispelling myths of the “self”

the moon hasn’t been letting me rest much the past couple nights — see there it is again: can’t sleep? won’t sleep? — and i know that my will power still exists usefully in avoiding self-medicating sleepy substances and concoctions

tomorrow night, the moon will be fullest this virgo month (though it will be full in pisces and my head has become bloated with astrology)
i’ll dance with my tribe, and i still can’t decide if i’m comfortable using that word, or even why i shouldn’t be.
many of them will look at my face and head for the first time, clean shaven and uncovered;
that is to say they’ll see me for the first time: eyes, smiles, dimples, freckles and spots…
or at least i can hope

i need to accept and embrace the fact that i’ve become lonely again;
perhaps by choice,
perhaps by toning back the fight it takes each and every day to stay free:
free to grow a loving relationship with myself that leaves me knowing i’m never alone and so never feeling lonely.

but i’m ready for something jolting;
i’m ready to be seen.

where years before my arms and heart felt a hole they couldn’t warp themselves around to cuddle,
now i sense the deep involvement of others on my near-future paths.
i refuse to deeply pursue work alone because i can’t, not because i won’t; this time i’m sure of the difference,
because there is no “alone” and so no work to do alone, or for myself,
and so each day never ends, because it rarely feels accomplished enough to be dissolved into sleep and dreams.

i feel oh so ready…
for so many things my being knows and my brain will take its sweet time to embrace with thoughts and language,
and none of them involve me doing deep actions of my own volition.

i’m tired of loving and being in love with a community of individuals, which isn’t really a community at all;
when each drop becomes too concerned with its individuality, the river ceases to flow;
we’ve only ever been able to define our humanity, even our existence, as a relative concept —
we are human because “they” are not; we “exists” because other things do not exist —
and i see no reason to seek meaning elsewhere: where or why else would we look?
to seek solace and validation solely internally?
no, when we look there, deeply and honestly, we find everything and everyone else,
the pieces of them all we hold and embody — and while the shades and angles of those particular pieces makes each of us indispensable,
it also makes no one an individual, in any sense that our modern language can discuss the concept.

it’s hard enough work to want to root down, and to actually do the damn physical act, in a culture raised on computer games, tweets, a ridiculous surplus of various mood-stabilizing medications, and the existence of fast food (not to mention faster everything else);
but then to surround yourself with oh so wonderful loving folks who seem to constantly challenge your deep inner knowing that rooting is not settling down… that settling isn’t stopping or giving up, but is necessary… that we’re only travelling if we’re returning somewhere, else we are just wandering in hope.
that hope might be sincere and not vain, but it’s not building home,
and damnit what this world needs more of, what specifically this north-north american culture needs, what super-specifically this new age englightenment-and-love-pursuing generation of beautiful wanderlusters need to do is to build some fucking homes and love the shit out of them.

we’re not home, so many of us…
so many of us have never had one, been in one, grown in one, eaten in one, raised children in one….

it’s not a building, but it requires a warm roof;
and it’s not a place, but it requires a physically rooting of bodies and plants;
on top of all that, it is a knowing, a knowing as deep as there is depth;
a knowing that when we are home we stop asking where a better home might be;
when we build a life that recognizes how green our grass is, there is no greener grass elsewhere —
just grass… different, no better, no worse, with its own lessons and reasons for being

so much of what we do
so much of the physical, chemical, psychological, sexual energy we exude and produce and exploit is, really, deeply, trying to solve the hole in our being where home fits snuggly;
you can’t buy it (but if the world’s made you poor you might be prevented from it)
you can’t own it (but the landowners will assert otherwise)
you can’t physically contain or carry it (though backpackers will argue otherwise)
you can’t experience it in a lifetime (though i only know this because i’ve never thought it; it has simply always been known and has been programmed outside the minds of our entire generation — but it still breathes in our bodies and beings)

we’ve had our umbilical chords cut,
burned with white phosphorous
buried in nuclear waste
choked in plastic
dammed for electricity
clear cut for “news”paper…

and we can’t build home without them;
home is more than us: it is all of us,
past, present and future mingled such that time doesn’t function the way we so strongly believe it does;
we’ll know that a place is home not only because our great-grandchildren will call it home, but also because our great-grandparents did….
and we’ve wandered so far astray that so many of us need to restart the spiral.

we wander and wander and wander… picking up pieces of cultures that have a sense of home;
this is the biggest gift we return with, so often without even realizing;
it’s not our experiences and photos and friendships and “finding our selves” and all that…
it’s the experiencing and living of cultures and communities and homes who have a sense of place, a place of home,
who fight for it, sweat and bleed for it, live and die for, because what else is living and loving and working and breathing for, if not for home, home for all of us?

and we come back “home”
Facebook friend list
torn between reintegrating with a cellphone and remembering that meaningful relationships aren’t had there,
struggling through commitments to biological families that have stopped being family, because they never shared a home, were not born with a sense of place.
we look around us wondering where to unpack and in most cases never do, because there are no homes to unpack into.

but we have tools:
and hope;
and, if we’ve lucky, we hold faith,
faith that others will hold hope when ours feels depleted.

i have no idea how to use these tools;
i only know that i must learn to,
that others still know how to and we must look for them,
see them,
patiently wait for them to find worth in sharing themselves with our impatient wanderlusty selves.

with some ridiculous amount of hope and faith and love and fucking fiercely committed folks,
we’ll build something that won’t satisfy anyone for generations to come,
we’ll know that that satisfaction, the satisfaction of dissolving our self into everything else,
it will come in our great-great-great-great-grandchildrens’ hearts,
we’ll know that those hearts are our hearts,
we’ll know that time does not actually pass,
and we’ll feel the love they will come to have for us for taking this harsh step,
feel it so deep it makes every work we do the only work we can and know how to do,
because to do anything else would break our hearts and we can’t take any more heart ache.

we’ve stuffed bellies, wetted palates, clothed bodies, sheltered humans, transported people, educated brains….
removed all the physical struggle from life,
and replaced it with broken hearts and scattered souls;
energy cannot be created or destroyed… but it can be elevated,
it can be transformed from self-destructive to all-loving.

my mind has no idea what the hell this will look like,
what my physical part in it is,
who i’ll me holding and being held by in the process…
but my being knows;
and my mind is accepting that it always has.

there are many alternatives:
every breath,
each step,
all passing moments,
are alternatives from alternate realities —
other cosmic perspectives —
assume we can live out the one we’ll come to love most;
assume we’ll be loved 300 years from now for the fight we begin today,
and that we’ll feel that love here and now;
and let that be the force that moves the world back into the earth

15 7 / 2014

i really really really hope my next ex isn’t an ex but a friend. 

3 exes is 3 too many, and defining a relationship by what it isn’t makes me sad. so, i am going to ask and manifest no more relationships to come into my life while i’m going through intense transitions, and for beautiful relationships to come and support me in periods of strength and consistency :)

09 7 / 2014

so much yes

so much yes

(Source: szshap, via roxanna-banana)

02 7 / 2014

you can never go back.
to any where, any when, any one.

mourn the past —
bawl your eyes out, 
if it was so beautiful,
but use all your strength
and all your hope,
and what faith this harsh world has let you muster,
to keep from faulting the present
for being differently beautiful.

don’t wait for tomorrow’s hindsight
of today’s joys;
be here, now…

cry every fucking time you need to;
smile every time it feels;
and let nothing hold back your uproarious laughter.

27 6 / 2014

so now it’s the new moon i can’t sleep during — the only constant really is change <3

23 6 / 2014

"relying on capitalist science to ‘prove’ something — especially about food or heath — is about as asinine as relying on facebook to make relationships ‘official’"

our bodies and hearts know things; let’s stop relying on greedy institutions to legitimize that wonderful infinite wisdom

14 6 / 2014


is the biggest, most profound follow-through i have ever had in my material life, and as much as my weak-self might keep trying to get in the way and slow me down, i have so much to love and be grateful for.

i am blessed, joyful, hopeful, uncertain, open, loving, patient, excited. sometimes i get in the way of myself and settle for numbness, and that’s okay, too. after all, it’s the darkness the stars shine against, the void out of which all is birthed. these moments of numbness are just waves of bigger movings and feelings :)

14 6 / 2014

so i’ve started this new business…

we’ve started this new business. 
my sister asked why we keep writing “we” instead of “i” even though it’s “just you doing it!”… but it has never been just me. which is the entire point of this new journey of a project :)