All posts tagged: hike

Enchanted Rock

  It’s been difficult to find time to breath lately, so I haven’t had much of an opportunity to write very much at all. It’s been busy to say the least trying to find balance between work, school, etc.. and now Wojciech & I have finally opened our small business (more on this later… yay). I thought I’d be able to handle such a heavy work load, but I’m proving to be less intrepid than I had thought. I’ve been waking up before the sun just to get a full day’s work in (prep, work-work, housework…boring topic, I know.) Though I recognize that I’m lucky to be where I am in life, especially comparatively to others, it’s not without a struggle. But I digress. Spring has really sneaked (snuk?) up on us. The skies are swollen with storm clouds and the rain has helped all sorts of wildflowers pop their heads up along the highways and grassy billows. Mother Nature has certainly had her hands full brightly painting springtime here in Texas. Wojciech & I …

Hiking Into a Happy New Year

The afternoon shuts its doors. The heart tightens it valves, the dragon maple sunk in its bones, The grass asleep in its wheel. The year squeezes to this point, the cold Hung like a lantern against the dark burn of a syllable: I roll it around on my tongue, I warm its edges … Charles Wright, closing lines to “Light Journal,” Zone Journals (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1988)

Summer Thus Far…

Talked to a friend on the phone, told her I’d forgotten how to write. It’s true. Maybe it’s just that I have nothing to say really. Who is it I’m speaking to now, exactly? I’ve been told too often that I’m overly vague. But my life isn’t exactly something that can entertain pages upon pages, or even a handful of people really. To be honest, it’s just scraps, feathered pieces of paper torn on each end. Sometimes I wonder why I even write things here…. And then I remember: because it feels good to write things down. Put words down on a page that only really half-exists. Anyway, back to the content of my life, I’m ambiguous and indistinct. Maybe that’s why I’ve taken to poems. The right people to seem to understand them (or at least in my mind they do.) It’s like a type of codex; poems unite likewise minds flowing down the current of the universe. But in attempt to be a little less vague, let me share a little piece of …

Roots

Some people have roots in their homeland, they hold a sense of belonging… A sense of purpose, the will, and want and need to nurture. Others, do not. Others take their roots with them; they harness them to the bottom of their soles and walk on, unknowing, but proud into that forethought, be it out of necessity or needlessness. I fall somewhere in between. The gypsy in me, like all of us, was born before into once solid bodies surmised only by the existence of their faith, their paths erased but their souls forever survived by the essence of one thing: Purpose. I’m relearning my purpose in the world, I’m recognizing my inner need and yearn to help others, and I’m slowly cultivating my outlet for that. The past year or two has been a roller coaster. I’ve traveled from one end of the country to the other, in a less romantic way than it may seem. I’ve abandoned ideas and embraced new ones, I’m learning and praying to the goddess to help me see my obstacles …