September 8, 2014


I don't remember how it happened. I only remember loving her deeply. No transition, no process. They are friends of my soul - these few people scattered around the world who know me absolutely and love me for no reason at all. I've all but turned my back on the world I spent years building for myself. Once upon a time I spent hours listening to the problems of the people around me, offering advice, a shoulder, apologetic murmurers, prayers. Five years ago I spent three months driving around the country with a soul friend. Yosemite changed me as I saw myself in this world, the Pacific accepted my tumultuous soul, but the moment that sticks out to me the most was climbing through sand dunes in Western Texas. After a hundred miles of driving with no sign of another car, we parked and crawled around the dunes, soaking our sore feet in the raw white sand, blue sky and sun casting glitter all around. I snapped my fingers, it seemed, and the sky turned black, the wind slapped the once tame sand into our legs, our eyes, our hair. It burned and I felt my insides collapse. I sank into the sandy world, wrapping myself into a ball, and wept. No one needed me anymore. No one knew where I was. I barely knew where I was. No one could access me. I was alone. I could not help anyone. My soul friend held my head and rubbed my hair, singing softly in Portuguese, and the weight of every tear I'd held that wasn't my own, every burden I'd carried that wasn't mine to care for, drained out of me like bad blood leaving the body, never to return. It was then that I began to slowly allow the ties that drained me to come undone. It was my freedom journey, the first time I'd done something entirely for myself. And I was hooked. Seven years ago I put my paint brush down and held her hand in the bathroom. I saw her in front of me and from the side through the brightly lit mirror spanning the multiple dorm sinks. Her bony shoulders caved into her body and her narrow wrists went limp. Oh, how she loved him, but he couldn't stay away from that witch. They would never be the same, and neither would we. Seven years later we would hold each other shaking, sobbing for the lost time and the magic of a reunion that mattered, of once again touching the skin of someone I don't remember falling in love with, only loving. I say this to remind myself that I am the luckiest of girls, to have people in my life who will love me deeply on a level I will never understand but trust I will always know. It's the very thing that makes average relationships difficult to care for and large formal gatherings tasteless. On the desert floor with nothing but my car and a hand to hold... this is what matters, this is what I need... the assurance of their souls existing beside mine. I can't explain it any more than that.

March 16, 2014

I Told You

First, I must join the masses in a deafening chorus, begging please, please... I can't be cold another day. I can't slip every time I raise my eyes from the pavement beneath my salt-stiffened winter running shoes. But look, Spring is coming! No, that's a blizzard. You will shovel for two hours - 15 degrees, 30 mph winds. You will give up and use your neighbors driveway to plow your spent Subaru the rest of the way to the road that looks more like a trail. God bless the humans who walk their happy dogs daily. I'm ready to pay to live in California - where the avocados are 5 for $1, the pumellos quench your thirst, the artichokes run rampant The waves have no sense of self-preservation - crashing, repeatedly. No mercy. You never stop. You never give up. It's maddening. You're maddening. And brilliant. And I can't stop thinking about you, the way you whistle, you sing, and always have something to say. I want to hear it all. Let's have a cup of joe and chat awhile. I'll just sit here quietly. Come a little closer, please. I'll stay right here. You make me still... not many things do. Las Trampas, San Francisco, Dungeness Crab, Berkeley, Big Sur Highway 1. Three years ago my master plan was thwarted. I'm glad it was. But the dream is alive again. I've caught the scent of the ocean, the taste of the sea. I know again The best part is, I'm not alone this time.

*I Paint The World* Copyright © 2008 Black Brown Art Template by Ipiet's Blogger Template