Soul Kin

     I lost my best friend yesterday. We don't know what happened to him, or how. My family called him Figaro. I didn't call him that; I didn't feel like that was his name. I gave him no name. To me, he was simply my greatest pal, my daily companion.

     Everyone agreed that he was the sweetest cat ever. I found him strange also. He let everyone and anyone pet him. He would let me pet his ears and his paw and his legs, without a care. That cat let you do anything to him. He'd just lay there and enjoy the physical attention.

     He and I had a connection that I've never had with anyone, human or otherwise. We clicked in such a natural way, as, often, words weren't even necessary for me to utter (as though he could understand me anyway). Our energies were similar, our characteristics were similar. We only ever had one common and repetitive disagreement, when he'd try "jumping" another female cat, even after she was evidently pregnant. But he was a cat and I a human. That was understandable. That cat never held a grudge; with him, neither did I.

Containing a Tide

Change is inevitable.

Just saying those three words is enough to shift anyone from their stance and core. But that it existential reality. If you exist, you will not only experience change; you are change. Many people don't realize that they are the very thing they fear.

I won't detail how many times my life has dramatically swirled so that I'm on the ground feeling like I have to start over again. But that's the best way to forge a blade. Break down particles in the heat of desire, mold it to your will. Cool things down; inspect your progress. Break it down again. Keep molding. Keep cooling. Feed the flames with the bellows of hope.

This is tedious work. But this work of building, breaking down, and rebuilding is the work of Nature, and the work of us all, the work that is us all. It is our death and rebirth as humans, as beings of life and Spirit.

If I could keep just one of my tools of the forge, it would be to retain the consciousness that is held in my breath. I can lose desire, I can lose faith, I can lose integrity. But I will always strive to hold conscious breathe, because not too long afterwards, all those aforementioned will be mine again. I can lose my sense of self, my identity. But if I can hold onto this moment in space for just a little bit longer, I know I have made a monumental breakthrough which can not only help me but help all existence. A big responsibility held in each of us, in all our actuality that is us, I know. But that is our Great Work. Again: change is inevitable, that is reality, and if you exist, you are a thread upon that web of change. Your breath is both the silk that holds the web together and the spaces in between.

Raining Shards Inflamed

I am angry. I am enraged. Life force fills me in the guise of action. Heated, I am. Inflamed I break down matter, that new life may be born from the ashes.

But what's this? I have no guidance! Where is my center of being? Where is my still point? Where am I in this space and what I am doing?


If only I had asked those questions before chaos ensued in my kitchen.