My second apology comes with self-reflection and changed behavior.

Every morning there’s a series of names

that flashes before my mind.

A pang of unfinished business

in my intercostal flank reminds me:

Words unsaid, loose ends, points I haven’t poked through.

And so I counter the dawn’s punch with a fresh perspective.

I’m a human being - not a human doing.

Trying to make sense

when the real money lies

in private equanimity.

Waver out on the limb and rest in an acceptance;

Wind blows in pursuit of its own flow

Worries float past me down the cool waters of the unresolved.

Maybe they’ll come back around and I’ll be facing the sun.

Because it doesn’t have to be ok

In order for me to be at peace.

Coffee For Philosophy

The only difference between

a cliche and wisdom

is experience.

I forgive others for not doing for me

what they could not do for themselves.

I forgive myself for not doing for myself

what I have done for others.

Sometimes you need to go back
to remember why you go forward.

“Want more?” it beckons from old behaviors.

All we have to lay to rest,
what crosses over with us,
the things we can’t let go of just yet…

I meet the version of myself
who builds life on the other side.
Though the space between
doesn’t let me rush,
even if I try.

It’s here I learn to embrace the void rather than fill it.
To stroke this moment’s hair and lay down with its parts.

A cheek resting on fingertips
as I map the edges of the pieces.

This in between is where
self-love equals self-responsibility
and is tailored, by my own design.

I unpack the past and try it out for size.
Hold these pieces against my chest
as I inquire at the self in the mirror.
Does this still fit?

Try it on.
Turn to the side.
Offer a shift in perspective,
from an higher vantage point.

I was a slow learner until

I got sick of being left in the dust.

Choking on the fragments

of what came and went too fast.

Seeps

Seeps

Seeps

Deep

A coil intrinsically weaves new fibers.
A new form - new patterns
Where you don’t have to second guess.
And intentionality is for the sake of consideration,
not to pull yourself out of something old
that no longer serves you.

Life on the other side bows reverently to the door behind you.
It joins a force that knows before you do.
And helps the other foot drop into the mystery.

To dance the dance.
I can’t see where I’m going
But the music takes me home.
The rhythm coaxes me out of my shell
Out of my cocoon.

Into a season where I spread out and plant new seeds.
I bask in the garden of my design.
Architecture arches over head and
vines interlace the scaffolding -
pillars to hold this miracle.

To create it and learn how to keep it.

Precious cargo, me included,
among outliers and misfits.

I don’t just fit. I belong.

Coffee4Philosophy

A lesson is only truly learned when it’s applied.

As I laid there with my eyes closed

wind blowing softly across my face,

a Knowing said to me:

“You’re going to miss this when you’re no longer human.”

Ahh, yes.

The stillness is the present I savor my senses.

Stop time to circle the moment.

To feel.

To be.

So while I will miss embodiment and sensation,

I won’t cling to the faint air of my humanity with regret.

As I laid there with my eyes closed -

I laid a little longer.

Coffee4Philosophy

It doesn’t keep you in the room.

Wisdom shows you which rooms

value more than meets the eye.

Coffee for Philosophy

keep it flowing

If It Hits...

You’re usually in the back of my mind all day,

but today you reigned up front.

And I have to be careful that a momentary pleasure center

doesn’t become an eternal torture chamber.

The dreams are the duality of my subconscious and my higher self.

I can’t tell if it’s my spirit or my humanity

banging on the door.

Or maybe it’s you

& that’s why I can’t control it.

Because I’ve never been able to control you.

The things I try to make sense of when I’m awake,

wreak havoc at night.

And still - it’s a taste of you.

Even if it’s bitter

& even if I never swallow.

I’ll miss you when the morning comes

Even though sometimes you hang around til midday

Balmy blue wraps a brother and blankets a little sister

Always up to something

Whether waxing or waning

Or pulling the tides

Can’t make up your mind

Mercurial waters run deep

Depth

A slice of pie in the sky

A piece of me wanders with you

I am at your mercy

On the hook all night

Silhouetting lovers in your pale dusky light

It’s been done before

Unrequited love for the bulb in the sky

Humans have spent their lives to reach you

Planning dates to touch your face

Ethereal arithmetic and rocket science

Identities coiled up in whatever conclusion concocted -

You make power moves

You stop traffic for photo shoots

Did you see her last night?

And for added intimacy, go look at her right now.

Worshipped.

Sought after.

Soothed.

Not a planet, yet out of this world.

Forever distant - always constant.

Original piano composition: James Harper’s dream. shift - where shall we go?

Sister,

The first call.

The private entry in my journal. Unfiltered. Bare.

The twin bed we shared growing up even when we got our own.

Home.

Going barefoot to tap into your roots.

As above, is below.

You are a thousand year old tree from your roots

to the thick of your hair,

Coiled in the wind.

You are the trunk I lean on to catch my breath.

The canopy that shields my sleep under in the rain.

Amber is ancient wisdom preserved where generations come and go.

Your honey glow guides me home.

Amber is the pendant I carry on my chest, the other side of my heart.

As long as I have my sister…

She is the steward of my soul - standing sentient.

Little notes back and forth - a lifetime of messages.

My lifeline.

She speaks a language which can’t be taught.

A knowing without seeing.

She is the goddess mother.

From the ether to her womb, comes another her.

Everything this world needs.

Hope in human form.

Nefertiti’s daughter.

She willed me into life.

In every life and in between, I promise.

Where the clouds open up to let the sun.

And the expanse of time and space.

The Universe’s gift to me came leather bound:

Chicken Soup for the Soul,

Sister.

Strapped in the Misery Go Round with tethered ball hide.

Cycles, circles, same shit - Habit.

Have it.

Gurgling up sick, leaky tap, foam spit.

Fed up.

Swallowed a tough pill from the wrong cup.

Damning music. Brain contusion. Thready pulse.

Dude, don’t lose it.

I swore I’d be better next time at remembering this mess.

It looks different, still it’s the same sick manifesting in a new dress.

So round and round - here I go again.

I get all wrapped up just to unravel again.

Cursed by lessons not learned at fruition

No right turn and in the opposite course of direction.

Set the tone, swing your mood.

Maintain composure until you’re free to move.

Gravity suggests, take a moment to recalibrate.

Come back to down to Earth and contemplate.

Personal inventory is your best next step

Checking boxes off your

‘To Do: Me’ list.

Things start clicking when you pay close attention.

Your journey takes off in a rocket ship piloted by wisdom.

You’ll have to be daring, stronger and smarter.

The way down is tough.

The way back up is harder.

The circles have me all dizzy, Gravity.

And even feet planted firmly on the ground

Won’t settle this lingering notion of spinning around.

I missed it - How fast it went!

I have to revert back and fix it again.

You’re spinning your wheels trying to survive.

And it’s right about time for you to thrive.

Pain has always been your greatest teacher,

However, let’s try foresight out for size.

I’ll never grow unless part of me dies.

Slice out the fester and carve out decay.

Hang on for a second.

You don’t see me getting carried away.

Gravity delivers a welcome reprieve.

All of our lives we cut down the weeds.

Being alive means sometimes you bleed.

Weeding your wilted avoids poisoning your seeds.

So next season we have ash trees generating new breeds.

I know how out-there I must sound right now.

Though I really think you’ve got this for

When the chips are down.

Don’t let this strife get the best of you.

Because life doesn’t get better - yet sometimes, we do.

It’s funny what makes the levee break.

Which little infraction,

Little microcosm will tip you

Over the edge and into yourself.

Patterns after promises.

Recognition.

A motion before, bends infinite ways.

Struck a chord - the ripple out - started within.

Energy doesn’t lie.

It vibrates.

Ego reacts to keep you safe and

Spirit pauses to give you time.

A sacred interval to decide.

Agency shapes gravity.

What note will you play when the straw becomes the string?

It happened on an ordinary Tuesday, except it was anything but.

It happened when a trigger knocked on my door and

I showed up as myself.

Perspiration beaded and my voice shook.

With trembling hands, I twist the knob and answer.

I’m doing it, scared.

No avoidance, no bypass.

The tools will hold me up - I say as much as I hope.

As that trigger subsides, so do I.

It’s an ordinary Tuesday, yet I am anything but.

I look up from my survival and out the world around me.

Colors and geometry unfold onto a landscape where once

It was a narrow black and white.

Perspective is the shift.

I fall to my knees in an exhaustion parallel with exaltation.

I thank the adversity as I bask in an earned transcendence.

There is no arrival, only life on the other side.

So I tighten the straps on my boots and live,

Truly live,

To fight another day.