communicate

hiddenfreedoms@yahoo.com

20.10.10

that which is short lived

Occasionally i become acutely aware of the temporariness of that which surrounds me.
Not in the sense of my mortality...that always hangs mockingly above me.
To the different lives I create that lack sustainability.
It almost seems, it is that lacking, that gives me comfort.
It keeps me on an edge- and my muscles constricted.
When I began to soften these said muscles, fear seeps like lactic acid and I quickly tighten and balance on my created precariousness.

This evening I walked downtown amongst deteroriating buildings, dirty swollen homeless, girls with fake innocent eyes and darting hips- webbing glances, men holding hands with trusting gals- sticky eyes upon craning necks, hipsters-hippies-hobknobbers-hollyrollers-
...and lettin my eyes glaze, i floated along
A creeping cacophony of sounds trickled on my tuned in ears.
Shuffling feet, distant trains entering town, trucks clumping through narrow streets, blasting stereos, clicking high-heels, doors swishing open and closed, rolling conversations, honking horns, barking dogs, a moon 3 days from full, laughter, and the occassional inner cry in sorrowful eyes, heard if you listen.
It was when I came to, I reminded myself this would all someday be a memory.
Thats what life is.
A series of memories
and those lucky times when you are not thinking that.
 ~michelle 
isolation-rainy windows-rock hunting- stick carving- mobile making-picture jumping- secrets-cedar wood, sandalwood, lavender, lemongrass, broken green leaves and baby twigs- open skies that fill my belly- duality- paths that never cross- the smell of knees- red wine, campfire tea-home roasted coffee, green smoothies, yellow delicious apples everyday, fever dreams- drinking from cantaloupes- medium format photography- renegade art- dirty knees- patches- stripes-plaster- diy- reality and daydreams switching places- digging clay- oscillating fans- dioramas- tree worlds- travel tree travelogues- carrots- memories of my father that crawl across the floor, up my arms and into my cheeks- captured images- captured thoughts on my nightstand-turtle homes- hopes- sweat from hard work- long bike rides and aching legs- brushing my teeth outside- dirty fingernails- ink on my hands- unfiltered thoughts- originality- creating from beginnings-mint fields in mist- empty canvases,tubes of paint and endless nights- screaming songs into the wind- sharing secrets with birds- puddles, creeks, streams, hidden worlds behind waterfalls- feather tattoos-looking through paper towel rolls- defying Murphy and his law- green and blue- tearing out pictures- "Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now."(bob dylan)- "I have tried in my way to be free"(leonard cohen)... knowing these words to my very core.- learning-exploring-learning-exploring-slowly moving and watching and experiencing all fully and within the ritual, catching my reflection as a little girl...