letting go, leaving the past behind, moving on

things are shifting, crossing, moving, going from form to formless, ebbing and flowing. i can't sleep for the news i knew was coming and held on to the saddness, the shock, the desire to be helpful, the generous offers full of strings, strings, strings, strings, strings and expectations. i watch the rituals of movies and trade images for dreams and then read long strings of words that rile me up and spin me round. i am learning from other people's knowing. i am trying on ideas and traditions, gods and witches, spirits and deep sadness and disembodied anger. i notice the place in the movie i couldn't help but watch about the couple that stays together with their children and gives up and wins and gives up and wins and gives up and wins and gives up and wins their way back to the moment when the moment arrives and things come to their natural conclusions in all the ways they do. i am here, in this rolling chair, kissing the cat, taking out the trash, fluffing the pillows, doing the dishes, wiping down the counters. oh, for caressing counter tops and other surfaces. this dream is edging its way back toward a kind of grey reality of in and out, WAKE UP! WAKE UP! the alarm has been ringing for ages and i am here and alive and so many are shouting from the crowd that has left my part of the stands shouting their version of WAKE UP! and i am here, in the crossroads of now, typing words, petting someone else's kitten, longing towards my phone charger which i have left somewhere--plugged in at the poet tree house? and i am here, in this now, without the part of the grid that plugs it in and makes it possible for me to be reached by what reaches for me. what reaches for me? what do i reach for? i am taking back my night. i am giving up the television borrowed for this fix of nothing to do but study and sleep, eat and care for a cat that kisses me and cleans herself. i am happy to have been here. i am happy to have been here in this window of time looking out at what grows in the places no one goes but cats. the great bast of this part of the journey makes for the dreams that come true in the life that comes more fully into view as it shapes the way of the waves. particle and wave. particle and wave. what will come of this chapter when i read it later? write it another time? live into all it allows for its hairpin bend in the bumpy road? this life is what? now? white board, do over, try again, be and believe, show up, live into laughter, make what comes of what comes, begin again at your beginnings, wake up, show up and follow the flow of the fun? i am learning the fun is in the heart and soul and center of what allows itself to bubble up in the turning of the tsunami's tide. this is what we were born for...this moment in this here on this side of this now. i am here. now. i am here in this chair, after fits and starts of sleep, moving through the somehow of this moment. i am here, hearing all the things there are to hear in the sound of the silence and the flow of the water that never stops pumping its pummeling sounds of silence. something is growing in the flow of what comes bubbling up from the ground of this moment. i am here in this moment, looking closely at the journey. i am here in this moment, looking closely at my part of this part of the path. i am here in this moment wondering how and why? i am talking out loud to myself, letting my fingers move across the keyboard, noting the sounds that sing themselves like the ones i remember from the waterfall of what will be will be no matter the curses that fling themselves from story to story in their precise moment of unfolding time. i am here now. i am here now. i am breathing. i am deepening the breath. i am alive. i am looking at this sweet kitten looking out at the ocean of unknown that lives outside her window. i am here in this now. i am here in this moment of time. i am here.