* No friends you say?

No friends you say?  From milky ways they come.  Friends of mine.  Alive amongst the stars and in the rivers deep and cold. Forging passage through thick and mossy covered paths of forest green.  Beyond my view they wait and watch. I have no doubt they escort me.  When darkness falls they ride the navy skies on Spanish steeds of dappled gray.  Fast moving, like shooting stars they soar, taking leave of their creator.  White water proves no match for them. They ride the current, strong, with nerves of steel. With laughter and excitement and anticipation they face the twists and turns and undertows.  Shadowed paths of moss and ferns and tallest trees seem quiet.  Yet softly there they step, invisible and unheard.  By my side they travel on my walk through life.  Over byways smooth as silk and craggy trails of dark and rocky cliffs they steady me and hold me near. Silent and unseen.  Into my heart their love is sewn. Deep in my palm their caring is ingrained.  Their wisdom woven through my hair with silver threads.  My load is lightened when I tire.  I am lifted up when I cannot walk.  I’m led to updrafts when I need to fly.  To smooth and quiet currents when I must rest or glide.  At my birth, they accompanied me.  Forever in my soul.  For eternity.  No friends you say?  Look deep inside.

* Grateful for Bathrooms ....

It is a day to be grateful for a bathrooms.  Thank you, Divine Mother for bathrooms.  Thank you, Divine Mother for Starbucks in San Miguel de Allende, who have public bathrooms.  For longer than a few unconfortable moments, I suspected I might be an embarrasement to myself, to my country and to every other human being within visual distance.  Thank you Divine Mother for bathrooms!

It is nice to sit here, in Starbucks, in a comfortable chair for a time.  It is nice to listen to jazz.  It is nice to enjoy a cappuccino and enjoy taking deep breaths.

I have been holding my breath and praying for a bathroom for so many blocks.  I did not realize how good it feels to take a deep full breath of incredible air.  My jaw was tightly clamped together and grinding.  Thank you Divine Mother for oxygen and a relaxed jaw!

I have never before uttered a prayer of thanksgiving while sitting on  toilet.  Today, I did.  Thank you Divine Mother for bathrooms!  Thank you for getting me there on time!

I'm in a buiding on the square which surrounds the main Jardin.  The walls are well over a meter thick.  The arched windows are set so far back into the walls, a small window washer could easily loose their way while attempting to locate the glass.

I wonder what this building originally was?  I wonder who built it?  When?  This town began as a stop on the silver route about 1550.  Now, as a Unesco historical site, businesses must be very disreet not to distroy the ambiance or historical view and authenticity of the architecture.  Starbucks' sign is barely visable.  Even inside, it is much less commercial appearing than the rest of North America.

Allow me to utter this gratefulness from my lips once again. Thank you Divine Mother for bathrooms.  Thank you for allowing me to reach a bathroom on time.  Thank you Divine Mother for Starbucks who has public bathrooms in San Miguel de Allende.  I am forever grateful!  You have saved my dignity.  I give thanks.

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, January 11, 2010

* On Writing

January 6, 2010.  San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

I've never had any writing lessons - doesn't one not have to take writing classes in order to be a writer?  Or does it simply pour forth - fall out onto the blank page whole and complete without instruction.  Is it part of your soul which expresses itself unattended?  I'm not sure.  I think I'll just keep writing and see what happens.  What more is there?  Surprise me!

* Complicated

January 4, 2010.  San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

Is life really
that Complicated?
or
is Complicated
an illusion
a thought
which has led us astray
off the path.
Have we taken
the left fork
in the road
instead of the right
and ended up in
Complicated?
Have we taken
the wrong path
when we live
and settle down
in Complicated?

Is it all
very simple?
It is all a
glitch
in our intellect
which takes
us to Complicated?


What if we
believed in
Simple?
What if we
lived in Simple
and never
took the road
to Complicated?

Is life really very easy?
If we allowed our
soul to guide us -
to take us there?
Would we live there -
in Simple?

Is it only
our mind
which leads
us to
Complicated?

* Pay Attention, it's time ..

Her body hurt.
It was the
kind of pain she
had never
endured before.
Her body
cried out to her ..
"PAY ATTENTION
TO ME!! .....
For once in
your life
Look at me
Feel me
Appreciate me!
I have been here
for you all these years
and you have never
so much as given
me a passing
glance.
How dare you!
I have carried you
when you could not walk.
I have helped you live
when you should have been dead!
I have accepted the
disgusting way you
have treated me,
your earthly home,
the one who
holds your soul!
You have ignored me
loathed me
hated me
but you have never once
looked at me,
never really seen me,
felt me,
heard my needs
or acknowledged my pain.
I am making myself
known to you now
whether you
like it or not!
You cannot
ignore me anymore!
It's time for you to
listen!
It's time for you to
PAY ATTENTION!!"

June 2009

* Cruelity

Verbal Cruelty --
Physical Violence ---
Enraged angry voices.
A powerful slap
from the shoulder.
The sound of
a jaw as it
snaps.
People running
someone intervenes
one person verbalizes
another offers a hug.

Talk to me of
the silence
of a heart shattering -
fragmented into
a million pieces.
Falling and breaking
without a sound or
single recognition.
No one there to bandage
No one there to repair
No kind word
No 911
No sirens
No knight in
shining armour
to rescue.
Simply the long
silent
anguish
of a treasured heart
ripped to shreds -
taking forever
and a day
to heal.

"You'll soon be back
to your old self"
friends cajole -
The truth is
in loving you
I am forever changed -
for better
and for worse.

Where do broken
hearts go?
Do they
find their way home?

Dec. 22/01