when I grow up

I wanna be a vessel for energy's eruptions. A crack in the surface where extraordinary-ness flows through.

If the world occasionally sends its hot lava core spewing forth,

I wanna be a volcano,

bleeding the great earth's guts fantastically into the sky.

Tellin somethin bout itself.

An expression -- the fleeting gesture that is my life span on this planet.

Europe

California in December

In The Spirit

"Spirit is an invisible force made visible in all life. In many African religions there is the belief that all things are inhabited by spirits which must be appeased and to which one can appeal. So, for example, when a master drummer prepares to carve a new drum, he approaches the selected tree and speaks to the spirit residing there. In his prayer he describes himself, his experience, and his expertise; then he explains his intent. He assures the spirit that he will remain grateful for the gift of the tree and that he will use the drum only for honorable purposes.
I believe that spirit is one and is everywhere present. That it never leaves me. That in my ignorance I may withdraw from it, but I can realize its presence the instant I return to my senses.
It is this belief in a power larger than myself and other than myself which allows me to venture into the unknown and even the unknowable. I cannot seperate what I concieve as Spirit from my concept of God. Thus, I believe that God is spirit.
While I know myself as a creation of God, I am also obligated to realize and remember that everything else and everyone else are also God's creation. This is particularly difficult for me when my mind falls upon the cruel person, the batterer, and the bigot. I would like to think that the mean-spirited were created by another force and under the aegis and direction of something other than my God. But since I believe that God created all things, I am not only constrained to know that the oppressor is a child of God, but also obliged to try to treat him or her as a child of God.
My faith is tested many times every day, and more times than I'd like to confess, I'm unable to keep the banner of faith aloft. If a promise is not kept, or if a secret is betrayed, or if I experience long-lasting pain, I begin to doubt God and God's love. I fall so miserably into the chasm of disbelief that I cry out in despair. Then the spirit lifts me up again, and once more I am secured in faith. I don't know how that happens, save when I cry out earnestly I am answered immediately and am returned to faithfulness. I am once again filled with spirit and firmly planted on solid ground."

--Maya Angelou
Wouldn't Take Nothing For My Journey Now

It should hear me by now, this thing that I want. It should hear a rumble in the distance, gradually becoming louder. It should feel a change in the wind and a tremble in the ground.

Lord knows whether it's ready for me, but I'm coming.

Like an asteroid. On fire in a free fall. This thing I want won't know what hit it. I will come zooming from above, a shooting star, and make an impact that shakes all of our surroundings.

My whole life, I've been out here orbiting around this thing. Its gravity pulling my spiral tighter and tighter with every revolution. Such want. I am off its radar -- a satellite, for the moment -- but I hope this thing is starting to get that sinking feeling in its gut, saying,

something's coming.

California

warm welcome

These are the hot, hot, dog days of August, and darlin', I can't believe you won't see New Orleans and me again 'til it's cool.

We're on fire, all of us, with the spiciness and sweaty jazziness of it. Much as ever.
The heat feels like it's working its way up to an explosive crescendo, at which point the essence in the air will burst into flames and will only be able to be put out by a hurricane. Like a giant magic fire extinguisher monster.

Dog days. Everybody shinin' wit it. Panting. Pantsless. Everybody dripping their uppitiness away. It gets dabbed off of foreheads and cleavages by damp bandanas that sag, as fatigued as we are.
When everybody is sweating, everybody is all in this together. And I feel at home, part of the city, now more than ever.
We got air-of-superiority conditioning.
Reality is giving out more checks than FEMA these days -- and can't nobody maintain a dry enough disposition to fully disconnect from this human condition. Not this summer, No Ma'am.

We're all soaked at this point, all us runaways who came to get eloped with the music. Us orphans in the city except for our Nawlins-in-laws whose roots help to run us back to the original rhythms that sent their pulse through the south.

Oh how we want to be in that bloodline, when the saints go marching in.

If you're like me, you might spend your daylight hours tending to your sapling musicality, with hopes that if you really hustle, the city's laid-back pace will offer you a chance to catch up.
If you're like me, you may have detached your respective pony from the carousel and decided to race instead of ride.
You may appear to be off your rocker.

So cheers to the revolution - I've just completed my first.

One full swing around the seasons of the city. Dizzying and dazzling they have been.

A whole life. My whole life, demolished, reimagined, rebuilt, and prospering in its infancy. Similar to its older sister, the now kindergarten aged (NEW) New Orleans.

A life brought to the table like a potluck which shared its great luck as a new piece to our growing community. It's all come full circle.

It's been a gorgeous year, y'all. Thank you for the insanely, smolderingly, warm welcome.