Today I saw a half demolished movie theatre
And I imagined the red cushioned theatre seats lying somewhere
All in a row
Like the keys of an accordion
And out of tune
I thought about all of the people
Who must’ve lent their life to those
theatre seats for a brief time
All the date nights
And birthday parties
All the sadness
Shared with the giant people on the screen
Buckets and buckets of popcorn
And sweet treats
All the movie stubs
Thousands and thousands
Of movie stubs
Torn and forgotten
My heart mourned this lost place
This once majestic carnival of imagination and delight
I think when our minds grow sad
They transform into destroyed movie theaters
Unable to project the beauty of possibility
Onto the great big screens of our wondrous lives
Because if you’re not using your mind to imagine
Today while making Easter eggs with my precious little sisters
I saw the difference between being in kindergarten
And being in 8th grade
As one sister happily made her eggs, carefree, focused only on the present moment and what she could create on this tiny egg shell canvas
The other created hers as well..but halfway through..looked at me and said
“Why do we do this?”
To which I replied, “Because it’s fun. And because it’s a happy tradition.”
To which she replied, “But, WHY?”
And the truth is.
I don’t really know.
Now, don’t get my wrong.
I love that curiosity generates questions.
We need to question why we do the things we do and not just go along with the crowd.
But, I also think it’s necessary for the soul..
To just paint,
Live in the moment.
Free of explanations.
Free of the whys.
Content to simply BE,
for no reason at all..
To make something colorful,
For no reason at all..
To take a temporary, fleeting object that could break at any moment and make it beautiful.
Because isn’t life just a tiny fragile egg,
That we’re all decorating every moment we are alive
Knowing one day
It will break?
Salmon spend their whole lives
Trying to get back to the place where they were born
The very first place where their lifelong swim began
Their entire lives are dedicated to returning
To using each and every one of their senses
To find their way back
The only way they can lay their eggs
And start a new generation of salmon
Is by going back to where it started
They follow a circular path
And spend the majority of their journey
Against the current
They do not cease until they have arrived at their birthplace
I am a salmon
You are a salmon
At the end of the day we are all just sacred salmon
Swimming upstream to begin where we began
Home is the place
where you don’t have to pretend
Where your face without makeup is recognized and loved
Where you’ll never be told you look tired
When you look like yourself
Where imperfections abound
Patterns creep up
And cycles keep repeating
But we manage to fit
in the spaces between
Broken and whole
All at once
Home is where your hope is
Where your roots are
Where your purpose began
It’s everything you’ve searched for your entire life
In your mother’s embrace
Or your sisters laughter
Or your fathers jokes
Or your lover’s hand
Or your best friend’s smile
Home is where the world makes sense again
Way before you ventured to new lands
To live the dreams you were dreaming when you were still at home
Home is the place you dream of
When all your dreams come true
Today I found myself in a fed Ex office.
My printer is broken,
So I had to search elsewhere for my printing needs.
I signed in to a workstation,
Printed out what I needed and proceeded on my merry way
Until I noticed,
I was missing something…
The pages I had come there for;
I was empty-handed!
They never printed out.
My documents were somewhere in the infinite computer abyss,
Floating in cyber space,
Nothing tangible about them.
I asked a friendly Fed Ex worker
What was going on.
‘The black and white printer is broken’
Didn’t you see the signs?
There are signs everywhere. You’ve got to use the color printer.’
And as I looked around I saw…there WERE signs everywhere.
I had just been so intent on it working
That I didn’t realize it was broken…
Does this ever happen to you in life?
You keep trying and trying and trying to make something happen,
Assuming the proverbial black and white printer of life is working,
Only to find that it’s broken,
And you just didn’t see the signs?
But, maybe, just maybe if you would’ve stopped. And really paid attention and not sought only your own needs, you’d see the magical color printer path that could’ve helped you all along?
Sometimes when I wake up
I have single lines of poetry dancing around in my head
As if I was writing a poem in my sleep
And I wake up remembering it
Today when I woke up
(Before I even knew there was going to be a lunar eclipse)
The line that was in my head was
“Moondrops in heaven”
And I woke up thinking
What is that?
Does rain fall from the moon into heaven?
Does it even rain on the moon?
And if it does..
When it rains on the moon, do raindrops become moondrops?
What are moondrops and why were they pouring down in my dream?
When moondrops fall to the earth, what grows?
Tulips made of starlight?
What would happen if we tasted one moondrop as it dove from the sky
Would we transform into a fairy?
Or a luck dragon?
Or a Phoenix?
I guess the only way for me to find out is to go back to sleep and let the moon rain on me.