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Time

In 100, by Dom on January 4, 2019 at 4:30 pm

Fast fingers flit across clacking Apple keyboards.

Sun soaks a grassy field, alighting softly upon a smiling face.

A deliveryman speeds around a corner, desperate to make his quota.

A mother and daughter sit in an empty cafe, sipping slowly.

Time feels fungible – often accelerating, seeming to work against us, taunting us with each moment’s brief presence.

But sometimes, we’re embraced by Time. It opens its arms, gazes upon us with caring eyes, and invites us to sink – to taste each moment, then the next, to feel the texture of our worldly lives, and to briefly give up the fight.

Conversation

In 100, by Dom on December 19, 2018 at 12:05 pm

Thread connects us.

At first, our eyes meet and linger, and the first tendrils reach out.

As words flow and we relax, the tendrils extend, exploring the space between us.

As we find common ground, a dance begins in midair, our threads weaving, flirting, cautious yet curious.

Here, doubts creep in, pulling our minds from the present, and draining the courage from our wispy emissaries.

But then we share a laugh, and they connect. Our shoulders relax, and our eyes soften. Warmth floods our bodies.

This connection is not easily made – we revel in the unique joy of newfound friendship.

Fear

In 100, by Dom on December 15, 2018 at 9:48 am

I know why you’re here, Fear.

To protect me from lions and disease and spears

To keep me alive in a world years gone by

I know why you assume the worst

Better safe than sorry

But I’m tired.

Tired of the reminders of the fragility around me

Tired of constant cross-examination of every idea

Tired of regret

There are no spears here, no enemies hiding in the brush

This world calls out for joy. For appreciation, love, passion, excitement, happiness. We all deserve these luxuries.

I know why you’re here, Fear. But right now, I don’t need you.

Inner Monologue

In 100, by Dom on December 9, 2018 at 2:19 pm

Breathe.

Let the scene before you dissolve into a canvas of color and light. Hear each sound as it comes, crisply. How do your clothes feel against your skin? This moment is art, manifesting in each detail of reality.

Imagine yourself of 10 years in the future inhabiting this instant, in this version of your body. What would you notice? What brings you joy in the scene around you? Cultivate nostalgia for the present.

All will change, so honor this instant by noticing and appreciating, letting the beginnings of a smile curl the corners of your mouth.

Rest and exist.

Thursday Morning

In 100, by Dom on December 6, 2018 at 12:32 pm

I awake, lost in thought.

In the kitchen, my mind races and worries, making plans.

I absentmindedly ask my housemate about his day.

“I’m going to have a picnic.”

The word stops my mind in its tracks. It tastes of sunshine and pine trees, of smiles and slowness.

“That’s cool! What else you got going on today?”

“Oh, was going to meet with some friends and drink tea later.”

The simplicity and beauty pierces my frazzled and distracted mind. Bluebird days like this are meant for wicker baskets, laying in warm green grass, feeling your body fall into the Earth.

Polihale

In 100, by Dom on December 4, 2018 at 2:11 pm
Breathing
Watching water roil and tear
At this miraculous outcropping rising from nothing
Not nothing
An infinity of life, incessant, dynamic
She holds us
This land
Firmly but gently rocking against the shore
An ancient conversation
From mother, protector
To proud renegade
We are the west
The outermost bastion of our brothers
Standing chest out against the endless volleys from the north
We frolic, dive, and glide – turning the assault to joy
Silence
Is different here.
It’s richer, it changes, yet the rhythm stays the same
Sky changes too
Blue to rose
Soft theater of light for
Dancing waves

Guilt

In 100, by Dom on December 4, 2018 at 2:08 pm
I drive past snow-capped peaks. How much longer will they retain their brilliant crowns?
I fill my tank – complicit in our collective crime. As I travel, I’m part of the problem I want to help solve.
I book tickets home for Christmas. I want to see my family, but is it worth the pollution? In saying yes, I support the system that destroys reefs, melts glaciers, and intensifies storms.
What can I do? What should I do? What will I do? The answers are all different.
I hit play on my audiobook, and my mind leaves this troubled world.