I absolutely LOVE their style.
Think in ways you’ve never thought before.
If the phone rings, think of it as carrying a message
Larger than anything you’ve ever heard,
Vaster than a hundred lines of Yeats.
Think that someone may bring a bear to your door,
Maybe wounded and deranged; or think that a moose
Has risen out of the lake, and he’s carrying on his antlers
A child of your own whom you’ve never seen.
When someone knocks on the door,
Think that he’s about
To give you something large: tell you you’re forgiven,
Or that it’s not necessary to work all the time,
Or that it’s been decided that if you lie down no one will die.
What is important?
Making the world incrementally better instead of incrementally worse… or at least… keeping it at base line.
Be helpless and dumbfounded,
unable to say yes or no.
Then a stretcher will come from grace
to gather us up.
We are too dull-eyed to see the beauty.
If we say Yes we can, we will be lying.
If we say No, we don’t see it,
that no will behead us
and shut tight our window into spirit.
-Rumi as transl. by Coleman Barks
1. Forget what I said about the Zouk community here.
It’s growing. The people in it are flipping awesome. And…. we bout to have t-shirts… whatever. anyways.
2. The immigration process is stalled. Our paperwork is in the Embassy in Delhi, but who knows when they’ll process it? We called and they couldn’t tell us anything but “it could be a few months”.
I am so distrustful of bureaucracy in India (even if, supposedly, it’s Americans working at that Embassy).
I am not overly fond of the Minneapolis Zouk community, but that is mostly because there are hardly any people IN the community. Maybe I really do need to move to Cali. Get danced.
Can’t remember if I said it, but our visa got approved (preliminary stages yet) and he should have an interview sometime next month wherein we will know for sure.
Then it’s on to marriage, the Final Frontier.
solitude like a bullet
finally, unavoidable like the sight of your own blood
Poem for the polyglots
There is a necklace, a sentence in a poorly known language
misshapen pearls, glue-encrusted macaroni. Froot Loops.
My neck is heavy with attempts at communication, my wrists
are tired of force-feeding myself meaning
De-constructing the tower of Babel is exhausting,
but always something
when my cure looks to you
you watch me die daily.
There is a mirror you ask my future of.
I don’t want to know what has been said in that
pale room, dust in cheeks, held and aged like fine wine…
your tongue is not so sharp,
I think it couldn’t cut glass
not even if I passed out in your kitchen.
Not even if I threw away your rotting food
and you had to fish it from the dirt.
oh. um… my fiance got his visa petition approved… just needs to do final background checks etc, then we prep for his interview. I got the letter two months earlier than expected, was freaking out as I carried the envelope upstairs… trying to open it but my hands were full… then made weird happy noises and called him but he couldn’t understand what I was saying because the weird noises kinda just continued.. 🙂 that was a good day.
flinching more and more lately,
tension becomes the natural state of
Schrodinger’s flight or fight response (that
cat just never exits my
brain matter, such a palate for hard
uncertainty, fetal-position coiled, the spring
of false refuge.)
I want my face laid bare to the sun.
to be that unafraid, open to teeth as well as
The muscles in my back hold expectations,
unprocessed and jagged. I want to let go.
I don’t know how.