Parells in Meditation

The trees are nervous.

They whisper woven worries,
Wild wind, pass us by...

"I'm a sputtering flame hissing in the rain. I'll disappear any moment. That's why I'm here."

Storms. Elemental child.

"If you don't fear fire, hold me tight. You'll be burned and extinguish my light."

Lightning. Find me on the mountain's peak. Find me tumbling in the crash of the surf.

"Pain mingled pleasure and a darker night."

High wind. I'll climb the tallest tree. Hang on tight, but keep one hand free. Try to fling me out, buck and swing, I'll laugh and scream, the joy is in the terror. A wild ride with ninety feet to reconsider and regret.

"A fox that runs wild, snaps at your touch. Dreams, hopes, ambitions, delusions."

Deluge. Chase me in the tall grass. Barefoot at breakneck speed, rain streaming down my face and chest.

"Most of all wanting to be loved, wanting to be tamed."

Flash flood. Find me in the angry furry. I dive in. Pulled under, tossed like a leaf, smiling as I choke for air.

"To know the collar of ownership and dependence. Desperate to feel it circle my neck."

Life as a cigarette: Rip off the filter and smoke it fast.
The rules of the road: Drive faster, turn harder, no seat belts permitted.
Pavement surfing: somersault and slide. Rush back in line for another ride.

"Yet the terrible transformation. Another docile dog?"

I see you watching,
You think my words are for you?
Perhaps, in a way...

Running in Place

Kansas, Summer '06, Afternoon

Some days are for rambling.

My feet lead me out into the fields away from anything that wreaks of human touch. Past the roads and houses, over fences and walking trails, I tread. Carefully I pick my steps. I refuse to settle for the man-made peace of parks.

I pick my steps carefully, no wild flowers will bend under my weight.

In my mind I'm running desperately. Looking for a place to call my own, somewhere I can silence the accusers which have taken up residence like malicious hitchhikers in my head with the more potent silence of quiet and unaffected life; that is, life devoid of the thoughts and whispers which occupy the human existence.

Stopping now. The sleeping brook speaks, but its unconscious words are peacefully happy. Content. What a concept.

A nervous frog eyes me suspiciously. I smile disarmingly, "Don't worry, I have no desire to disturb," despite my effort at reassurance, the frog dives for the cool safety of the dark waters.

There's a flash of lethal power in the depths of the pool. Some terrible struggle beneath the water's roiling surface. A long, black whip slices out of the water with horrible strength and speed and disappears again.

Then the combatants rise. The snake has its jaws locked on the struggling creature. They thrash and roll, splashing angry water. I'm mesmerized with horror. And then the violence is diminishing. The snake's grip on the frog's head is a death trap. His fight for life grows weaker; his flailing kicks coming with less and less frequency. Hope and strength are fading fast. My lungs are burning. I try to scream my despair. Can't. Realize I've been holding my breath. I gasp and choke, breaking the iron grip on my throat. I want to throw up.

The frog is finally still. Hopeless or dead. It's the same thing.

The snake sinks down with its prey.

I sit absolutely still. And what was I thinking? That I could somehow run faster than the curse that rides me? Thought I could leave my Midas touch behind me? That life's insanity resided somewhere outside of me?

I can't escape humanity because I am human. I will carry the toxin of my existence where ever I roam. And it will drift and snake across the ground to poison anything within my reach.

Reflection on Proximity and Proportion

New Jersey, Summer '08, Midnight

The bright lights and happy chatter of the Boardwalk fade incrementally with each step one takes onto the beach and towards the rising surf. A hundred yards from the frenetic night crowd and the flashing lights of arcades and restaurants, the darkness and noise of the ocean swells erase everything.

The moon shines down on swirling dark waters, shattering into shards on the uneven reflective surface of the perpetually restless waters. The sand retains the sun's daytime heat, in contrast to the cool waves racing up to wash my feet.

Off to my right I catch a glimpse of dark forms racing and dancing on the edge of the water. I wander closer. Laughter and childish fun. Age slips away in the presence of the infectious excitement of the beach at night. I smile in approval.

I'm nearly among them. A silent and unnoticed presence in the darkness. A shout rings out through the night, "I am the queen of the world!" I search for the voice, trying to make out the crier in the mix of dark quick shapes. "I am the queen of the world!" There she is. She stands far out on the rocks of the pier. Her hair streams out behind her in the wind rushing in from the sea. The water crashes around her, spitting up and around her. "I am the queen of the world!" She is yelling out the words at the top of her lungs. Over and again. "I am..."

I'm captured: standing like a statue. Her form is dark and her face turned away from me towards the on-rushing waves, but I know she is beautiful. It's true. I wish there was some way to show her homage.

She is queen, the whole world belongs to her.

I'm so still that a game of tag comes close enough to spit sand onto my feet without the players being aware of me.

Time to move. I wander away. before I've walked thirty paces, her voice has faded from a triumphant challenge, to a distant, weakening note. It fades in and out whipped on the wind. Another few steps and its gone. Drowned by the overpowering crash of the breakers.

The waters are roaring with powerful mirth. Loud laughter at this joke.

She has lost her thrown.