adaptation

adaptation is the most frightening and most incredible human trait.

we adapt to what is and it clouds our ability to see what could be.
we adapt to what is and it opens our ability to see what could be.

to which end, adaptation?

on people

So I don't like to choose people that everybody knows; I like to choose people that just do small things and yet somehow hit me in my heart.
- Margaret Kilgallen on heroes and heroines

(thanks for the tip, chip thomas)

remember and remind

how we came to be in this place are blurred by the noise of what is now. it is easy to forget that what is is a result of what was before.

remember what was \ appreciate what is \ keep moving towards what can be.

better here than in my email drafts

when I said goodbye to milwaukee, there was a gathering of the kindred types.

joe said.
I wish I had something for to take with you. but I don't.
so take my wishes and put 'em in your pocket.

the amount of time I've spent with you relative to the big wishes I have for you are completely disproportional.

- - -

jack said.
you can come back in three weeks.
you're going to feel like you need to do all this.
but you can come back in three weeks.
and we'll have a welcome home party for you.


- -

and you, dear friends, drew on my mirror.
and made the canvases look bright.

- -
from the milwaukee goodbye in 2009

of note

hey hope. you are not ridiculous.

strength of a promise

Expect of me what I do of you. I will not fall short.

unkept history

I need to get these words out of my head. I feel with them is the root of human hope and faith that humanity is equipped with everything it needs to move beyond our misplaced energy towards things and identities. The human spirit can be broken and damn the people who break it. We must uplift and amplify the good in the human spirit.

I sat atop this hill for years now. The branches and bristles biting at my ankles as if they might suffocate me by starting low.

Every day goes by and I imagine what the next will bring. I have seen communities torn apart by sheer incompetence and stubbornness. The leadership here is hollow. Dig. Dig. Dig. And all is hollow.

The histories of whys are unkept - why the gibbous? why the bruised? why the people on leashes? why the proud and the humble? Damn us all if we cannot learn to understand and create room in our memories for the answers.

- - - - - - -

The sisters in the padded room whisper of a cabinet in the middle of the forest where history is stored. A cabinet sits with millions of drawers dusty with age. The birds with red ink on their chest keep these drawers full, they say.

But no one cares of their contents, one passerby said. The sisters are crazy to believe people care for the contents of the cabinets.

- - - - - - -

Damn me if these words don't make it onto pages with lasting ink to share their message.



- - - -
this is fodder for the beginnings of the bird boy book. thoughts are welcome.