june 26

"no one knows but you;
how i feel inside
no one knows, know one knows
but you" - beth neilsen chapman

simple lyric but they ring in my heart and head.

it is morning, the birds sing, the cool wind blows into my lap. the early sun wipes itself around the sharred tops of the trees, those who suffered and survived the ice storm. i am not in the hollister garden - i am not biking over the mountaintop. i'm not in ottawa with debbie nor picton with carolyn. i have not phoned les or donna. perhaps this is what i chose. now, cynthia is gone, now, the warm glow around me lifted. and where do i gravitate. here, i suppose.

the new room, a shrine in a sense, has a view. still littered with corrugated cardboard boxes,

june 24

gosh there's time.

now what do i do, time to sit and stare at this screen, time to type, and to think about all the millions of things i was wishing i had time to do before.

but what were they? and when one crosses my mind, why don't i feel like doing it anymore?

and where's all the people i've got to see, places i've got to go?

now that there's time i just feel like doing nothing. but i don't like doing nothing so i find something.

used to be a balance and i didn't have to wonder which was more or less normal. used to be more time to sit around reorganizing piles of paper and thinking about articles copied from journals in my spare time. spare time what's that but i must have had lots in LA. must have had lots. but what did i do with the lots and why don't i know what to do with it know. because nothing has to do with what <should> be. nothing has to do with physics and nothing has to do with whether time began with the big bang.

what matters is what you feel. many people don't know because they're long since forgotten the feeling. and some, God bless their souls, never knew.

i'm not saying that what i know is the right feeling, gosh no. i'm not saying that feeling is the only way to get through this life. i'm not saying that i regret the parts of my life that i don't have time to feel, and i'm not saying that feeling is always the easiest way.

when there were lots of things going on, spinning in circles was i, and people spun around me. they came they went my time was spent. the wind we created made things flow, as it does the universe and time itself. now that i sit and stare at the screen who are those people where are they and do i really want them all around me at this moment anyway. they have names, they have lives. when their lives are spinning, who am i.

i seldom cause discussion.

and if we could sit around in our birkenstocks, mine dragged along for the occasion - who would we be then? would we spin around each other or talk of God and other higher creatures like ants whom we sometimes must crush under our feet. for this i am sorry. when we have time to think about who we really are, do we really care - or is it, like me, very sad to accept what we cannot change. i didn't know i was a control freak. ok maybe not a freak but very much in control. a new concept for me. ha.

or would we only be worried of the time when it was all going to be over. everyone has their own way of worrying about adult-time. i said that it feels like i can't enjoy anything while it's happening any more, but can enjoy things once they're over. she figured out that this is because while it's happening, i'm just worrying about when it will be over. in other words, worrying about time. makes sense. time's not much of a factor in retrospect, now is it. brilliant that girl.

time causes discussion. it also causes creation, evolution, and outpourings such as this.

reflection, interlocking scales on a lobsters tail, and solid stone to turn to sand and water baby.

i suppose i shan't be afraid of time. alot has happened in the past several months and now i am ready to have some of my own. it's just taking a little bit of adjustment, that's all.

where are those gardeners when you need them?

peace,

louern

june 18

things are leaving us behind.

goodbye, Leo. goodbye 12 people on a small charter plane. until we meet again.

i wonder if she knows how it all started. maybe i should tell her.

"She heard a noise and looked up to see four private school girls brush by her. They sat two on either side of her, shouting through her face. She found them somewhat amusing. Eventually, however, her thoughts turned to Frank, where he were, what he could possibly be doing. The constant drone of accented bilingualism on either side of her penetrated her eardrums and eventually she became totally immersed in their conversation about economics class, and Mrs. Schoflecker. The bus jolted, and she picked up her things. Clunking down the steps onto the cold street, the temperature was about freezing, she guessed. Her stomach felt the cold air since she had undone her coat on the bus, and the plastic heel support on her burgandy loafer kept rotating around behind her shoe, and she was worried it was going to fall off, or break.

"But, i sat there in spirit and finished this email. .> I st there and thought about how I would describe to you the exact > feelings and imprint that such a thing could have on a soul. how the > smells could bring back true emotions; how the sights can take years >off of one's vantage point of the world. How a bunch of cement can > truly be a part of my heritage. > "

june 15

switching over to 'garden' mode, and spending time listening to others.

it's time to post the screed. there's been little writing here - and much swirling about in my mind.
my creative juices have been needed in other areas of life, namely survival! the period of adjustment
where i settle into a new job is an extremely difficult one for me, i have learned in the past year.
without that feeling of being wanted and needed at work, my strength for live wanes. at least now i
know it always comes. this time it will just take a little bit longer. be patient. enjoy the pain for what
it is. watch what you are doing and realize that you have learnt much, and will learn more. this is
important to know. enjoy the little steps.

the 'stuff' around me is finding its place. i do not feel guilty or badly for my stuff. it each has a spirit,
a time, a person. i respect it all, appreciating the shoes at my feet. i wrote once this lyric; and for
me it reveals the deep understanding and connection i feel for all stuff of mine. the realization that
many without stuff are happier than i. it is a hard lesson in the west.

june 10

With them are people we can discuss what is dear and close to our hearts, opening up to them as if the four us were together since childhood. Never afraid of insulting, or complimenting. Toasting 'great friends' at dinner, instead of birthdays and new cars, just because that is what came into my mind as I sat there thinking how happy it made me to have the oportunity, albeit brief, to share an evening with them. These are the moments I've waited for for a long time - even before I knew I was waiting for them.

june 8 98

will a firefly story take me out of this, several moments of discontent? i think not, but

june 2 - 98

i'm ironing my clothing; a few cherished moments of peaceful time in my newly clean abode. the music is soft - the disc jockey artfully weaves words around lovesongs behind me. jann Arden beautifully chants...

"unloved... unloved... ... so that not another living soul, will ever have to be... unloved... unloved"

and as i'm becoming lost deeper in the concepts of peace that her words portray, sounds of police sirens break through the melody out my window. racing, i can feel their heartbeats race as mine begins to also.

and i think, the more i see - the more i feel like a ball of string bouncing down a hill; rolling up briefly in some spots, but ultimately, becoming more permanently entangled in others.

i hope someone's holding the end when it gets to the bottom of the hill.

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may 25 i think

i'm still laughing. laughing at myself, i suppose. i've been asked to be boring and that makes me laugh right from the roots. i guess in place of crying, i'm laughing. so ha ha ha. in between that and lobster jokes too. are they funnier because i know that they don't get it? probably. you know how private jokes are the best ones.... (kind of like that entire paragraph for some).

in any case. i'm just writing to see the words appear. this is not what i should be doing, i should be doing my morning stretching and then taking my morning walk. determined to get to work before 'late', on my third day of it... duh. nothing intelligent to say so i'll shut up.

it's not the first time, but i was wrong.

quite wrong, in fact, and pleasantly wrong, i might add.

people are alive here, in this city. they are as alive as when i left- as alive as when i was born - and as alive as they were when i wasn't able to see it. perspective. it can make you wrong, and then correct things to make you right again. it can shame you, or defend you. it can win you over and drag you down. it defines you, it becomes you.

i haven't yet decided who, but i have decided that there is a way to control it.
sure, some of it's up to the stars, but let yourself which stars you see.

everywhere, today, yesterday - people interact. they commune, they exchange, they do ballet.
they're really here. they understand life in a different way. it is more than skimming, more than
surface. there's a pulse, and you can take it. the parts don't fit in together according to a greater
plan. they aren't controlled by remote.

let's upload this baby.

welcome back.

wednesday may 21.