Skip to main content

The map of my daydream










The map of my daydream is a thin sliver of grey, shimmer sheening in the sunlight.

It is a thick rind, ripe with possibility.

It dances like the sparkles in the center. It is a tall, still aspen. And the particular grey blue of the winter sky.

It is the silhouette of the orange chair, and the messy hair bun of my love, smoking his joint.

It is the quietness of the morning. It is the hot bitterness of my green tea.

It is the paper weight, and the plastic cover crinkle of my library book – Seven Thousand Ways to Listen.

It is the joy of knowing that everything is going to work out, according to plan. (Whatever that is.)

Tickety Boo of the Universe.

The more I let go, the more it works out, defying reason. The beauty of the daydream is – it is not practical, it is not reasoned. And it is all the better for that.

It is the sound of the piano – resonant, insistent, probing, melodic. 

It is the sound of my laughter.

The map of my daydream is meandering, not linear – like all good things of substance. It houses inspiration. The treasures are planted all the way along – not just at the end. It is about journey, not  final destination.

It is sweet, soft.

It is sexy, vibrant.

It flows out, and over, and under, and through; like a river that does not know there are any obstacles. Because the truth is, there are no obstacles outside of my head. My only true work in the world is to get out of my head, and into my heart. The heart, where my daydream resides, untouched, untroubled.

My daydream is persistent, always. It will not let me go. Like a hound on the hunt, with its nose quivering and sniffing out the scent, its jaw seeking out my fleshy, receptive skin.

There is no tomorrow, no yesterday in my daydream. It is always today. Bright, beautiful today – remember- with the shimmer, the paper weight, the laughter, the silhouette, the sensitive body, the animal of my being. 

And all of these are the building blocks – to the full realization of my daydream. It is self evident. It is self correcting. It is self setting. It comes softly, especially in winter time. And then it comes, more rambunctiously, in spring time. A season for everything under the sun.

It holds the perfect balance between mystic and body. This is being human.


There is a blue typewriter, there in my daydream. And a small wood cabin, tucked in the woods, with smoke billowing out of the chimney. 

A stack of  blank paper and a jar of good ink pens, beside my laptop. 

And a plate of oranges, and hot-out-of-the-oven cookies, for my tea........

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Raw Beauty of Life

"You are like a leaf blowing around in the eye of a hurricane. Life has really landed on you. It's amazing to see how you carry it." -Ryan Hartley Life is like a dark night, and a star-lit soul peering into a jar of fireflies. We are free and bound at the same time.  It is the collected moments that you are present to, which create a beautiful life.  Observing the steam rise in curls from a mug of green tea, the pattern of sunlight streaming through a leaf, the warmth of someones lips on yours, the crinkle at the corner of the eyelids in a child's smile, the moment you jump into a cold lake.  This is life.  And yes - the moments where you are curled up in a ball on the floor, your body heaving with sobs. The moments where you are called out. The dark parts of yourself that you encounter, and choose to integrate. The times you see someone doing something you wish you were doing and feel jealous. Life is not a tea party that we dress up f...
2 comments
Read more

The face of tomorrow

The face of tomorrow is shining and laughing. It is washed fresh.  It has all the laugh lines, the love cracks. It has the deep purple moons under the eyes, from all the sleepless nights, the crying eyes. But somehow the moons make it even more beautiful. They are beams of life, shooting out, mellowing, illuminating. Everything is illuminated in this face of tomorrow. Everything is forgiven. It is fresh now. In it, I believe all things are possible. All things are new. I am old enough to learn that it has always been this way. Now is tomorrow. Yesterday is now. It is all the same. But my soul has had time to grow. I can now appreciate tomorrow as today. Tomorrow looks like living my life exactly the way I want to. Not how other people say I should. My face has been washed in tears, and bathed in smile-light. And now it recognizes that both (tears and smiles) are equally valuable. The face of tomorrow (now) is awash with pleasure. It is flushed with desire. It is li...
Post a Comment
Read more

When loneliness comes stalking

“When loneliness comes stalking, go into the fields, consider the orderliness of the world.”   -Mary Oliver When loneliness comes stalking, I wait. I welcome it. I look in its face. I leave room in my heart. It comes stalking like a striped tiger through the tall grass. That is not so bad. If you are okay with being pounced on, and becoming part of the earth again. Burning bright at night, it stalks me. Dimly, during the day, it stalks me. It comes from within, and without. It is part of the whole. When it comes, it comes as a reminder. A reminder that I am not alone. It proves the paradox. It ushers in all the people who have gone before; all the other ones who have been stalked by loneliness. We are all here together. Even alone, we are together. When it comes stalking, I am ready. I am well stocked with books, and maps, a compass, and a telescope to look at the stars. And then I remember that I am stardust, too. When loneliness comes stalking...
Post a Comment
Read more