vacation mEp

            


may

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april 28 1997

the land below i would caress with my right hand and then my left.
the rough terrain that from below is mountain would feel as bumps.
the water pockets would spill like pails as i brushed my fingertips
along their bottoms.

the lives within seek what and when
the ones without just spin and spin
my trembling hand fears not my heart;
the lines of which must stop and start.
the plan is set the ropes are tight
but only passion wins the fight.

---

wandering through the greenery in the place,

one would easily     stumble on such     lovely sights.

---

april 25 1997

downstairs now with my coffee, the calmness of the water caresses
my very soul. in spirit, i am here with S, with E, with B, P, K, MC, T, and my
mother too. a thin haze sits atop the water followed only by large ripples
in the aftermath of a passing ship. the pale blue sky yawns over to the right
and its reflection along the dark silky water can be made out in the distance.
this coffee is wonderful, idyllic as i sip from the large pottery mug. squeaky
from the bath, i hear tiny steps as the house awakes.the hum of the waterfall
a constant reminder of vivid life in this place.

who are these people who toiled of their own sweaty hands and learned
to hoist rocks with ropes? what dreams did they share as they piled logs
onto trucks and planted lettuce into the rocks? what went through their
minds as they sat in a bathtub in the snow? is this the product of their
fairy tale? are they more free? do they know more?

what will i tell upon my return? will i tell of serenity? otters who frolicked
in the sea? tankers rumbling in the early morn? the bath cliffside or the
greenery in the pond? dark succulant leaves of the forest floor or large
ripples in the bay? patched kayaks and bald eagles? geese who swoon
and seabirds who skim the surface seeking breakfast? large farm eggs
or toning crystal?

i observe.

K what would i tell you? i think of you in this place, your radiant smile
and i yes, i hear your bubbly voice. i so much enjoy the paths we've
criss-crossed for ourselves - in the deeper shadow of clb.

do not let their problems become yours. this will serve no purpose in
this life. let them be. they cannot affect you. they are only as you choose
them to be, beautiful in God's eyes, innocent, fearful, alone, alive nor dead,
and praying - as you should be. neutrality in all brings joy eventually.
don't jump fences because fences do not exist in this world. no boundaries,
and the eggs sizzle.

---

april 23 1997

rushing through my thoughts to get all of them down on paper,
maybe sometimes, it can be better not to get them down just for
sake of getting them all down. maybe it would be good to wait
until they come out naturally, in the proper time frame and context.

hmmm cowboy junkies now lull the hum of the exiting cars, their
melancholic echo reminding me of days gone by for some reason.
the cool breeze that is the waving hand of the open seas licks the
left side of our faces. even the chemical smell of this rented vehicle
comforitng, i am at relative peace in this place.

the youngins in the tub again, the hum of the waterfall soothing.
this place is relaxing and i am pleased at this. even as the second
demitasse of espresso begins to increase my heart rate, being a
no-no in this place, i am still failry chilled as i sit on the carpet at
the table sunken into the ground for that purpose. i like her voice,
katanya rayne as i have decided it's spelled.

---

april 24 1997

we require words associated with objects. thriving on thoughts,
linked to events. doting on the attention required for self worth.
i view these needs for myself. seeing the world from within, no
requirements for approval. let yourself love yourself. each new
scenario will determine it's own consequence. i can go with the
flow and become it. my problem now is not to think of what to
write but to cause the thought processes to actually stop and
allow myself to shut off from my brain where there is much
activity - actually at this moment i am in some sort of transitive
meditative stage - listening to the noises around me but able to
remain absorbed in what i am writing here and paying attention
to the soreness in my fingers now as i grip the pen tighter and
tighter. and not really caring what they think but going further
and further insidemy head to come up with more words to write.

Waves now, outside in the sea. The humidity of the place is
absolutely wonderful.

---



---

april 21 1997 (tuesday)

written on the wall in a little girl's room that i am slept in last night:

"Listening to your heart, finding out who you are, is not simple.
It takes time for the chatter to quiet down. In the silence of "not doing"
we begin to know what we feel. If we listen and hear what is being
offered, then anything in life can be our guide. Listen."

what i hope is that this poster will always be to her, more than the
poster on her wall. i hope she does not only read this poster, but i
hope she lives it. all i can do is hope.

i'd like to think that anything in life can guide me.
i'd like to think that i really and truly am driven by the
beautiful girl on the bus, by Ramona, by my dreams
and by things of my choice, but who knows.


who really knows.

---

april 19 1997 (saturday)

"I will pass this way, but once.
and if there's any kindness i can show,
let me show it now"

-sung by GTC

"why would you look at me, look at her
why would you look at me, she's got black hair
she cuts it so- she walks that way- she looks so fine
why would you look at me, look at her"

sung by me.

---

april 18 1997

remember the magic? remember the mystical, mysterious feeling that was
looking at the air canada logo on a napkin that Andrea's parents had
brought from Air Canada? Such a foreign concept to me then, i always
assumed that this mystery would never be unravelled to me, and i was right,
in a sense...

there is no magic, really, no mystery here. jet engines make sense, and these
are people, human people. these are their lives, they have jobs and bills too.
the only mystery still lies exactly where it was then - in my thoughts and the
memories they afford me - the memories of Edith, Andrea, Marlene, Johnny
Elaine and their father/ex-husband.

and i am thinking of the souls here, constrained now by upbringing, perception,
who function as they should, as they are expected, not because they want diff-
erently, but because they are unaware that they can know more. especially in
this particular situation, as i see beyond the confines that is our lives. the orange
horizon that i never got a picture of sooths me now and the snow covered lakes
of a planet which sustains what we call life.

learning to smile as i give answers, it increases the positive energy on the planet.
she may not have the time nor the interest, but i am starting to understand.