I am having a hard time getting into doing this blog. I always seem to think of great things to post when I am away from my machine.
I'm still in the golden tunnel of love, lost and found, found and lost.
This morning, I found a thoughtful gift from a temporary housemate. I opened my bedroom door and there was the gift, placed there in the middle of the night, between one a.m. and five a.m.
I just love it when people do nice things for me.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Monday, September 18, 2006
newborn babies
one of the very nicest, bestest things about babies, the true secret why the human race continues to perpetuate itself, probably, is because babies are born into this world programmed to be unconditionally loving. Babies literally love everything they behold. When non-babies gaze upon a baby, the baby inescapably mirrors unconditional love at them. Then the non-baby, usually an adult, feels that hit of love and then they bounce love right back at the baby, back and forth, ping and pong. The all of everything can be found by gazing upon a baby with an open heart.
Where did you come from, baby dear?
Out of the nowhere and into the here. . this is a published poem, don't recall the author but I don't wish to credit it as my own.
When I hold a newborn baby, I pretend that I know the nowhere that babies come from and that it is a realm of love.
Sometimes, when I am happy and living in the golden tunnel of love, I can behold all human beings the way I can always behold a baby. Where did you come from, human dear? I sometimes think as I behold another human being with love.
Sometimes I am in love with everyone. Sometimes, in flickering moments that never last long enough, every person seems like a radiant beam instead of a human. Like in the coffee shop where I am sitting right now: instead of people staring at laptops, I see light beings hovering in front of laptops and I love the laptops and I love the internet and I wonder where the internet came from and what does it portend for the human future that all these light beings are sitting in a coffee shop in Berkeley, California beholding other beings via computer screens . . .
I am especially in love with the illegal Mexican working behind the counter. I fell in love with him as soon as I saw him, just the way a newborn baby loves every person they see. There was a guy in front of me in line who was speaking really, really bad Spanish to the coffee guy and the coffee guy was actually wincing at the gringo's pronunciation but smiling warmly. He was being so sweet. And then I realized the kid with the bad Spanish was also being sweet, that he was trying to offer something to the coffee guy by using his broken Spanish.
Where did you come from, baby dear?
Out of the nowhere and into the here. . this is a published poem, don't recall the author but I don't wish to credit it as my own.
When I hold a newborn baby, I pretend that I know the nowhere that babies come from and that it is a realm of love.
Sometimes, when I am happy and living in the golden tunnel of love, I can behold all human beings the way I can always behold a baby. Where did you come from, human dear? I sometimes think as I behold another human being with love.
Sometimes I am in love with everyone. Sometimes, in flickering moments that never last long enough, every person seems like a radiant beam instead of a human. Like in the coffee shop where I am sitting right now: instead of people staring at laptops, I see light beings hovering in front of laptops and I love the laptops and I love the internet and I wonder where the internet came from and what does it portend for the human future that all these light beings are sitting in a coffee shop in Berkeley, California beholding other beings via computer screens . . .
I am especially in love with the illegal Mexican working behind the counter. I fell in love with him as soon as I saw him, just the way a newborn baby loves every person they see. There was a guy in front of me in line who was speaking really, really bad Spanish to the coffee guy and the coffee guy was actually wincing at the gringo's pronunciation but smiling warmly. He was being so sweet. And then I realized the kid with the bad Spanish was also being sweet, that he was trying to offer something to the coffee guy by using his broken Spanish.
