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day 684: first light, late nights


I don’t know who remembers me from Boston, but I had dreds and started smoking pot really for the first time. These two things were not related. I had my notebooks and scribbled frantic realizations. I didn’t know what it meant then or why it was important. But I know now. I was learning what love is. It started with Kind of Blue. I think a lot of things started that way.

I’d drink coffee and listen to Joni Mitchell in the morning. I’d dream about California and ask a friend walking to the T, “It’s not gonna suck, right?” Which of course it didn’t, and not for of a lack of anything shitty but because of the presence of lessons and love. I’d sit on that roof in Boston when the sun was going down and write until I lost the light. I’d gaze out at the city as her backdrop darkened and buildings became bright stars in the sky. The Pru.

We painted graffiti on that roof.
We broke up on that roof.
We laughed and sang and made great plans on that roof.
We did a lot of things up there;
but maybe the stairwell is where it really went down.

I’m thinking about authenticity and mortality; purpose and meaning; ego and surrender and letting things go. Knowing when to fight and how to fight for love. Knowing how to let things die and how to let things live. Knowing how to hold the hands of people we love when they push us away.

I’d rather spend my life loving
than avoiding death.
I’d rather spend my life loving
than collecting breath.
I’d rather spend my life loving
knowing only that we’re blessed.

It doesn’t matter how mangled a plant has become, give it light and water it will grow. As long as it’s living, give it love it lifts towards the sun. Every time we let love we lift our hearts to become

Om Gum Shrim Maha Lakshmiyei Swaha

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