Stunning ride on the CBR600RR thru a Sea of Green

Sometimes we say yes to spontaneity and get rewarded with curvy roads through sweeping green farmlands, red barns, livestock, wildlife, blue skies, and breathtaking river canyons.

We wanted to keep it simple: be out after work for a one and a half hours, maybe two. The farmlands, though, bathed in late spring and lit up in our visors, pushed our bikes like predators to a fleeing sun. It was a shame to go so fast through the enchanted landscape. But, we grabbed more and more throttle, the road guiding us to the river.

We weren't lost, and didn't arrive where we set out to. But as other bikers will tell you, getting lost is part of the reward.

Enjoy!

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When You Take Aim

Take aim at

My heart

Over my head

It starts there

You should know

It sees you

Sees worth

So up it goes

Heart high

Not for pride

Not for shame

But needing to

Hear its tempo

How it rises and retreats

Races and rests

Releases and reaps

Reacts to your touch

Risks everything

The colorful moods

Truth seekers each one

The parts that make it whole

How it makes ... me

How it has a story

How it wants to tell ours

So when you take aim

Aim for my heart

So I'll always know you're trying

Birch Court

Recurring dream: I'm in our old house, the one we moved out of 9 years ago. I'm panicked because the new owners have been waiting for us to move our things out. Our stuff and their stuff, miscellany, fills the house. At first they're not home. I start making an inventory and wander through each room. The living room still has our hunter green plaid couch and matching love seat, oak entertainment center, coffee table, computer desk, and kids craft table. A samurai sword collection, not mine, hangs on the wall. The kitchen sink is filled with our dirty dishes. From the deck I look over the backyard and the grass is riddled with dog shit, that we never picked up. The fence I built with my father-in-law is falling apart. Tall weeds choke a rusty swing set. The bunk beds in the girls' room are without bedding but still not moved out. Our dresser sits in the master bedroom, and our clothes hang in the closet. The little bathroom off the master bedroom has our towels hanging on hooks and our toothbrushes standing in a cup by the sink. I walk downstairs and the unfinished basement is still unfinished. Piles of our dirty laundry still wait their turn in our washer and dryer. Clutter, unboxed, spreads from wall to wall. From there I walk into the garage where our bikes and lawn mower and yard tools and cabinets and ladders and tool boxes gather dust. The owners burst through the door and they're not startled to find me there. I look at them and know this isn't my home. It feels weird because in my dream I know 9 years have passed. Why do I return again and again?

Having

Lately, life teaches me about the concept of having. Those things — perhaps people — that present the possibilities of attachment.

From dictionary.com (so we're all on the same blog page). 

have 

1. to possess; own; hold for use; contain.
2. to hold, posses, or accept in some relation, as of kindred or relative position.
3. to get, receive, or take: to have a part in
4. to experience, undergo, or endure, as joy or pain.
5. to hold in mind, sight, etc.

Like having something in your hand, an object you hold. Or having something held deeper inside.

Most often, the having — that something — is manufactured and fed by desire: something we want, wish for, or hope .... to have. With small beginnings we start to believe. Over time, we release more of our hearts to it. And believe we have something.  In simple terms, having something is real if both people acknowledge it and want the attachment to continue.

However, attachment is a really hard to master. Rarely do both parties want the same level of attachment at the same time, especially early. Or even over time, patterns become obstacles to attachment, which hinder growth.

Early or late, one usually wants a little more; while one usually wants a little less. Or one doesn't pursue while one likes being chased. Or one scares the other with feelings. Or one can't handle the other's feelings. (Which is perfectly understandable; not everyone is everyone's cup of tea.) Or, one settles into the attachment faster than the other. And probably a million other variables.

And therein the dance plays out. Are we dancing together, or just moving awkwardly in close proximity?

Love and Space

I'll jump
Not wait
An invitation
To enter space

To love's space
A shared space
Mine
Yours
For me to be me
You to be you

Space to breath
Space to release
Space to draw strength
Space to return strength

Find truth in space
Find love in space

To give in space
And take in space
To love yourself being loved in space
To loving yourself for loving someone else in space

Moon Is Mine

Moon is mine

With me but not all the time

Like an old friend, Moon


Sidled next to a barn

Suspended over a mountain

Peering over a cloud's shoulder

A slivered streak sinking in bright blue

Harvesting howls and eyes and wheat

A buddy bright outside my window when I sleep


Some chase Moon, know what Moon does

They know Moon's phases and many faces

Not me. Not my Moon

Moon chases me

Rising... Falling.... Playing hide and seek...

And I smile each time Moon's face meets mine

Untitled

Lately, life teaches me that absolutes are far from absolute (well... besides death and taxes, pesky physics, math, etc). Life in general is so fuzzy, in motion — the present made up of moments stacked liked train cars. The tracks lead away from the past, meander to the future.

I can't determine if we're the tracks, or the train.