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day 229: spring


It’s the first days of spring and Plotzkey’s here. Shit’s going down and we’re holding each other up. I can hear a freight train moving past the prison and wind is gusting through my apartment. Bach is spinning, we’re coffee drinking; we don’t know what to do. We’re trying to get to the heart of the matter, but whether or not we can take it is questionable so we just keep testing how honest we can be. We walk around town with our arms around each other and talk about porcupines and pick up some meds. We snap and we hug and she leaves.

At the dharma center wind pushes against me like I push against Mister’s whiskers when he comes to my lap for comfort. So here I am for comfort and I find it but the answers won’t come. As still as I sit it’s not still enough, so I sit
and I sit
and I sit
and I could explode, and it rains, and I’m in love again and living and thank god we have each other and music to keep us ok when everything is fucked so I can still say thank you let’s go. Rumi said to “let the beauty we love be what we do. there are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground” so let’s kiss and fall down and wake up to stretch in the (unbearable) lightness of spring.

Om Gum Shrim Maha Lakshmiyei Swaha

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