Within

"Why will no lover I see
join me in chorus of Art & Music?
Instead feeding on my loins with
their loins?" He asks

"Perhaps they are satisfied
with the end week and twilight times
as feasts of carnal and seminal pleasures.
Perhaps this is enough?" I respond

Houses that are made of glass
are also reflective.
Upon seeing into the Lover's house
I catch my own reflection.

I see my limited satisfactions,
my end week and twilight times
in the same dance.
His Lover's Partner, but not.

Something glimmers & I turn.
What was it?
It is gone but it danced in
the reflection of my chest.

It could not have been
behind me.
It shone
within me.

The Divine within calls
"Come this way.
This is the way, (out)
the way to Liberty"

I turn
again
reflective glass
surround me.

"No" it says
"This way
You have finished a sentence
with words that hold no home there."

"This is the way
there is no 'out'.
The way to the Divine
is within.

My Stuff

I checked for voices left by others to ask me to call them back.
I remembered yours was there.
I was absent and you called knowing this anyways
"To hear the sound of your voice" you told.

I listened to your smile and the weight of your day in your words
I smiled back and wished to carry some of that weight
or to massage your shoulders where I thought there would be achings

I looked at your photo
still listening
my face stretched back with a smile

"Now," my heart says, "now."
ringing in my ears and you answer
"Mr. Dallas" you say to me with pillows pressed near
and I laugh

"the foolishness of phone voices and photographs are a slippery slope" I say
and you repeat the last part in laughter

"May I ask you a question?" I query
"Blue and black" you interject
I laugh
"With a yellow streak in between"
I laugh some more

I inhale to ask you again . . .
"Mexican food!" you exclaim!
I laugh louder
I am drunk from your voice

giggles continue to bubble up from my delight
to drink in your sound

"You sleep like I do"
you define your bedding approximations
"You sleep like I do"
and your voice crackles through

A perception shifts from a previous conversation
without thought I unwrap my stuff before you
I pause to listen for your pause
and speculate if I should translate or continue

I continue

My stuff used to be messy and edged with thorns and barbs
now it is flat and 2 dimensional
It is still my stuff, but much lighter and easier to carry
It fits into my wallet, like a piece of paper
tatty cornered and chamois soft

I speak of my stuff
foolishness guilt dances through
Am I being premature?
Is this too soon for such a seedling?

I finish and the child bites it's lower lip and fidgets
"what now?" the child's eyes wonder?

"thank you for letting me show you my stuff" I say

the child looks up at me looking
for an answer to your how you may respond

"I have large shoulders" you tell me
"I can carry a lot on them"

"I do not wish for you to carry my stuff"
I share gently
"I only wish that you acknowledge it and respect it"

"I prefer to carry my own stuff
but I know you will treat it with the respect, compassion, tenderness and love I see in your eyes"
" . . . absolutely. . . " you crackle with sleepiness

"I would like to poke at your stuff
Look at it and examine it
See what it looks like
Pick it up and hold it"

"You may" I say
" . . . and you may have as much time as you like to look at it"
I wink with my voice
You laugh a tired laugh and we offer blessing of restful sleep

Many perceptions shift in your presence
You tell me I am a remarkable man
and the fidgeting child vanishes within the Universe

Humility

This morning I had a conversation with my mother. It was not my conscious intent to divulge much, if any, of the details of the project, but I did. I ended up telling her everything and at some point I allowed my Ego to take over the conversation. Much to it's disappointment my mother didn't gush or get excited or anything that would feed it. Her biggest concern was my well being and as most of us know Ego and well being don't generally live in the same place together often.

I walked to English Bay with a tea (with my bodies permission, I allowed myself caffeine today) and an energy bar from Delany's. The sun was warm but the air and strong breeze cool. I took a seat on a bench and realized today is the walk for breast cancer. While I sat and watched the women marching by I acknowledged and accepted much of the conversation with my mother was through Ego. I prayed to The Universe for myself and my Ego to be gently humbled before its Greatness. I continued to watch the parade of women in pink pride walk by and started to see a side to it I would not have likely seen had I not been paying attention and choosing humility. These women (and some men) walked with strength, empowerment and purpose to their stride. Most of these women, statistically speaking, have had or will have their lives impacted by breast cancer .

An important qualifier to share here is the tea I drink (Keemun) has a side effect of enhancing whatever state of mind I am in.

I became emotional hearing cars drive by honking their horns, friends and family coming down to English Bay to cheer them on, one husband with their infant child waiting at the beach for his wife to meet up with them so he may join her and her comrads on their journey. To allow myself to connect to the strength and the power in this moment was beautiful and humbling. Death and illness have largely been theoretical to me. It has only been a statistic or through several degrees of separation. The Universe has been very kind to me this way. My only cognitive experience with Cancer and death was with the passing of Gord's (my step-father) mother when I was 16. Even then I was kept from emotional swath it would cut through the family's lives. I did not see how it ravaged her when she was in hospital, instead I only saw her lifeless body laying in a casket. I cried. I cried a lot. I am not sure if I was crying because she was gone (for I didn't know her very well but loved her for the time I did) or if I has see in limited perspective death for the first time. Likely both and I suspect more the latter than the former. No disrespect is meant to her memory - I was only 16. Other than that, my life remains untouched by death and illness.

I watched pink caped crusaders, super heros fighting in solidarity with their sisters in body and spirit, by standers aplauded, vehicles trumpeted and again I welled with emotion. I thought if my friend who recently shared with me her battle with breast cancer and her choice to have a double mastectomy. She empowered herself to make the decision to not take a chance of putting her body, mind and soul through the experience again. She is more beautiful and radiant now than my embellishing memory held her to be. Through her story and victory I allowed myself to be humbled (limited in it's capacity, being male) and again while being a spectator of the walk before me.

This was not a walk of shame, fear or dispair. This was a walk of pride, joy, awareness, and empowerment. I wished my friend and I were together here so I could walk and carry in my heart her stuff that brought her to march today.

Once again, as so many times before in my life, I give great and humble thanks to my Higher Power for the gifts and the blessings given to me this day and for the sight to be able to see them.

Thank you.

Him

I can feel Him tonight. And He is getting closer. The time-line is quickening and my soul is preparing the way. I can feel His quiet confidence, His self-awareness and unassuming nature. The basic laws of attraction state: like attracts like - so I'm not the least bit surprise I would sense Him out there, getting closer. I sense Him in me and coming to fruition.

He is the kind of man who when I show him my stuff He will say:
"Can I hold that for you?" Just for a while, His eyes will offer. I would like to look at it, see what it looks like, feels like, sounds and smells like.

"May I?" He'll say.

"Yes." I'll speak peacefully and with every confidence He will treat it with the full respect and courtesy it deserves and then He will take it from me. I'll watch Him hold it and admire it. Listen to it and hear what it has to say and more importantly, what it doesn't have to say. He'll hold it to the light and watch the beams dance within it. Appreciating how they refract inside before playfully exciting from another facet. His kindness will recognize it is holographic in nature, changing it's appearance when viewed from a different perspective. When He is finished He will smile at me lovingly, hand it back to me with the same respect and courtesy He accepted it and say "Thank You."

"May I see yours," I will ask Him, "please?"

His eyes will twinkle and the light will catch the amber in His iris and He will present it like a prize to be coveted and cherished. And I will. I will hold it to the light and smile like a young child on Christmas morning descending the stairs as though it were his first. I will revel in it's imperfect beauty. Humbled by it's juxtaposed complexity and simplicity. I will not feel a need to comment on it's levity or it's weightiness - for it is as it is to be and no other way. Without indulgence I will return it to Him and offer my gratitude.

"Thank you," I'll say, pausing, "thank you."

This is the Man within me and the Man with-0ut me. He is coming to me and I am coming to Him and somewhere in the middle we will meet - for the first time but not for the first time. For we all know it is not our first time nor will it be our last. As it ends so it begins and as it begins so it ends. This is the beauty and the magnificence. This is the Universe.

I can feel Him tonight and He is getting closer . . .

Big Love

I am consistently overwhelmed by how blessed I am. I just received an email from Morgan with the link to The GoMo Show website. The Boys (as they will be referred to here after) entered my life about a year ago and continue to make beautiful impressions every time I encounter them - whether it be in person, by phone, through email or website. I was unable to attend their wedding due to my inability to effectively manage the details of my life while I was in school, the after my graduation. I was too consumed in self-medication and gave no attention to sussing out the particulars of the wedding until it was too late for me to prepare. They're wedding was on the picturesque shores on the west coast of Vancouver Island at Keeha Beach. The attendants are taken to hike through the woods to the camp ground, carrying everything one requires for sustenance and comfort for 2 days and one night.
Looking though the photographs of the wedding brought me to tears. Tears of joy for the infectiousness of their love and kindness to each other and those who are near and tears for my unskillful choices that prohibited my attendance.
When I invited The Boys over to explain why I would be unable to attend, they listened with compassion and love - once again reminding me of how bless I am for the Tribe I am part of. The members of this Tribe (and I may miss some, so for those of you who are part of, apologies now): David B. (Mr. B), The Boys, Jack & Brian,Rod B., Andre and his boyfriend (who's name I keep forgetting *wince*, and Chadwick aka Hooker J.
I have had one man in my life for the past 17 years who has never faultered in his love or devotion to our friendship. It is because of him that I have made a choice to let go of my neurosis and Ego regarding blogging. I have percieved my publishing a blog as exhibitionistic act and was unable to reconcile my perception with the action. I have places pieces online that I felt a sense of pride over and gave out the links to those I loved so they could either share in my pride or have an insight to my psyche at the time.
As of Monday July 31, 2006 Allan has begun a new chapter in his life - if you want to know what it is, you'll have to read for yourself *wink*. Since a great portion of his journey will have in incommunicato for long periods of time and telephone calls rare and far between, I am going to follow his story through his blog and should he choose to, can follow mine through here.
This is going to be an interesting process for me and I'm certain my styles of writing and person expression will run the gammet for this IS the show that is Dallas.

Namaste

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