I drive past the sign with a chuckle. Then realize I need to turn back for this photograph.
It occurred to me some time ago that paradise is not a place on a map, but a state of being. For me, it seems obvious, that state of being involves movement… though, often, a metaphorical interpretation works just fine.
I paddle out onto the calm sea
Despite the listless surf
Rather, no
Because of it
I love the thrill of catching a wave
The feel of the board cutting through the water
The acceleration as the curl builds
And, yes
Even the tumult
When the sea punishes me
For my errors
But I love too
The moments between waves
The calm quiet introspection
Gentle swells sway me
An ocean hammock in the breeze
Take a deep breath
And another
Feel my resting heart beat
In a state of peace
Here am I
Rapt in my own presence
In time with the rhythm
Of nature
Some days
I prefer these long deep breaths
Over the exhilaration
Of a racing heart
So I paddle out
Sit with my being for a while
Then paddle back in
At peace with the world
And myself
In between
The dead
And the not dead
In between
What is
And what is not
In between
The light
And the not light
There find
The realm
Of possibility
Seen only
By those who conceive
A world without absolutes
Where dreamers dream
Between sleeping
And waking
While the world flows
Between being
And non-being
In the wakening hours we dance
Between self-remembering
And self-forgetting
This is the ebb and flood
Between the conscious
And the unconscious
Like the darkness
And the light
In eternal conflict
Only the master sees
The dominance of either
Is true darkness
While the light burns brightest
In those who come to know
The balance of both
Embers
spark of life
renews within the valley
Enveloped
in the warm stone
of canyon walls
Emerging
as if from the womb
new life partum
Embraced
by the Earth
matron of time and being
Evermore
the cycle plays and plays again
birth, life, death, rebirth
In the bright sun of day
I am shadow
A mask without a face
A smile without a reason
Laughter without glee
A sign of existence
Without presence
So I breathe
Bury my hand
In the hot sand
Shout out the pain
Of heat and grief
And emptiness
Give voice
To the being
Which once cast
The shadow
Until the voice
Becomes being
A vessel
For the light
The pain and grief
And emptiness
Become the shadow
No greater metaphor
To my reason for being
Than a remote highway
Through open country
I’ve not yet explored
With the tools in hand
To tell the tales
Of my discoveries
More and more
Discovery comes
As reflections of my self
In the landscape of existence
My presence in this moment
Is but a wisp of a cloud
In a windswept sky
A drop of rain
In the eons of torrents
Which gouge a canyon
From a plateau of stone
Try as I might
I cannot grasp
The monumental meaningless
Of my own existence
Leaving me to acknowledge
The incalculable significance
Of drawing a single breath
Here am I
An infinitesimal ephemeral wisp
In the cloud-strewn sky
Of existence
Claiming my glorious place
In the magnificence
As if a passing moment in eternity
Were eternity itself
Swaddled in silky cloud
Upon a bed of supple grasses and pine
Earth
Cradle of my being
I travel along
The thin edge of life
Steep hillside above
Roiling sea below
Confined
Yet
Content
Breakers rumble
And susurru
Their soothing song
While the drive
Becomes dance
With the curves
And rolls
Keeping time
As if the lilt
Of the waves
Sing the highway
Into being
Gentle seas
Jagged peaks
Sky in turmoil
So go
The many layers
Of I
Pix to Words 