Cherry Blossoms

I sit in the midst of
A storm of pink petals ~
Fluttering down from
The cherry trees
Across the way~

A whimsical breeze ~
Threads through the
Branches ~
Pulling the fragile
Blossoms ~
By the
Thousands ~
In its wake ~
And I’m transfixed
And enchanted ~ and
Longing for more ~

Moments like these ~
Lurk around every
Corner ~ invisible
To all but the
Watchful heart ~

For it is through the
Eyes of the heart ~
That Truth and
Beauty are discerned ~

As I truly am

The stars call out my name ~
In alien tongues I don’t
Know how I understand ~
The sickle moon smiles
Down on me ~ and
Dawn is hours away ~

Accountable to no man
While I sleep ~
These hours are mine ~
The only time I can
Be truly who I am ~
A work in progress still ~

Clay-footed when my
Soul desires to soar ~
Yet I press on ~
My progress may at times
Seem nonexistent ~
But I keep the flame of
Faith alive ~ through
Every trial that besets me ~

For I have learned
While on my journey ~
That God ~
And the Universe ~
Help those
Who help themselves ~

If I Were Your Little Dog

(The musings of a man deeply in the dog house)

If I followed you home
Would you keep me ~
Give me a bath and
A nice juicy bone
To chew ~
Tie my topknot
With a little ribbon ~
Whisper words
Of love ~ and hold me
Against your heart ~

And I would be
Your little friend ~
Your comfort when
Your heart was sad ~
So happy just to
See you ~ even if
I see you ~
Ten times a day ~

We would be
Inseparable ~
For the few short
Years we’d have ~
And I would be
Content to be
Your best friend ~

Then I would
Never hurt you ~
As I hurt you now ~
Perhaps it would
Be for the best ~

Or ~ just perhaps ~
You could forgive
Me ~ one more time ~

Why, oh why, did we choose to share each other’s lives for such a brief moment in this existence? Who could have known that Death would be so envious and so cruel? Certainly not I. I believed you and I were for the ages, never to part in this life or the next, and I am shattered still, though years have passed. And time does not heal my wounds, no matter how faithfully or how often I apply it.

Time, the most unforgiving and the most elastic element of our brief sojourn in this reality we have all created. Always Yin to Yang, dark to light, good to evil. For all time the center must hold and the basic Universal laws apply. And I must go on, cowardice and unbearable pain to be hidden and endured, and choosing Death the one thing you would never do or allow of me. You always had such high expectations for me. I find myself trying still to please you and hoping somehow you are watching me and smiling. And so I find your loving hand guiding me from beyond the world that I can see. Is all as you had hoped, and does the Light blind you, or can you face it smiling, now that you and the Light are one?

Unanswered yet again, now I must go. The tide is rising and the wind plays havoc with my hair, tangling the strands so that I can barely see. I have put it off as long as I can, the going home. Because your chair will still be empty and your favorite book is still on the floor by where your feet last rested, its pages rumpled from the fall. Your lion’s heart is stilled at last, your job all done. You have moved on, as must I, but I will remember and I will abide, till I can be with you again.

Perhaps it cannot
Withstand ~
The pitiless and
Unending scrutiny ~
Of those who would
Possess it ~
Sully it with
Their greedy hands ~
Their lustful eyes ~

Or perhaps it is
As a wise man said ~
That familiarity
Breeds contempt ~

Maybe it is
Something in our
Human nature ~
That causes us to
Look for flaws ~

Or perhaps we are
Simply grown jaded ~
And must be
Forever on the hunt
For something newer ~
More exciting ~

Or mayhap it is
Simply that there
Is that in us ~
Which would see
Beauty ~
Brought down ~

The water overruns
The gutters
As I watch ~ and
Hapless pansies
Are drowned
In the flood ~
Their bodies
Strewn like victims
Of a mass
Extinction ~
Or of a singularity ~
The symbol
In astronomy of
A black hole ~

And I marvel ~
At how even
Rain and flowers ~
Follow the laws
Of the Universe ~

The Parting

At a certain level ~
Pain has a presence of its own ~
This pain breathes into me ~
Without a warning ~ with
No time to prepare ~
And I am caught out ~
With no chance of escape
Or of evasion ~
No way to change the
Certainty in your eyes
Once more to doubt ~
I would have spared you
Had my body not betrayed
Me ~ and I know my heart
Is in my eyes ~
From here on the path
Lies hidden ~ and I cannot
See the stars ~
Will we go on ~
Now that we know
That now is all we have ~
Have we the courage
To live our love to its
conclusion ~
My love that I be blessed
To breathe my last
Here in your arms ~

Ah, the breeze.

The cool night breeze ~
Suddenly huffs
Through my window ~
Pouring itself
Over every available
Inch of skin ~

Lulling me into
A languorous mood ~
Caressing my flesh ~
As it alternately
Teases and calms
My jangled nerves ~

The air is so fresh ~
It smells of freedom
And of faraway places ~
I fill my lungs and
Somehow I fill
My heart as well ~

And thus it is
That I go on ~
When all my hope
Should have
Been gone ~

Once more the spark
Within me is ignited ~
And I remember ~
That oxygen makes fire
Burn all the brighter ~

Sometimes joy looks like a lemon meringue pie.

I remember watching as my baby’s eyes followed with rapt fascination the movement of two exotic creatures, waving in his line of sight and ending in his tiny starfish fingers. He didn’t know they were his, or that he was moving them. He was simply delighted to see them, smiling with joy and sharing it with me. “Isn’t this wonderful?” his expression seemed to say.

Babies and young children retain for a while their connection to the Light from which they came and to which they will return. I remember it so well, and I ask myself when I last had a moment like that.

Once when my son was less than two, we were stopped at a light on our way home from the sitter’s house. He leaned forward and looked up toward the sky. He had such an air of intensity that I asked him quietly, “What do you see, sweetheart?” and he replied, “God”. The light changed and I drove on, but I’m bright enough to recognize a teaching moment, and I was willing to learn. Looking back, I can see that he taught me as much as I taught him.

Moments like these are why, when I am feeling joyful, I absolutely revel in the feeling and try to make it last as long as I can. My goal is to find a way to live my life with as much joy as I am able, especially on a day like today, when life is tossing me challenges. In fact, I’m going to take my lemons and make, not lemonade, but lemon meringue pie! Or failing that a big pot of my famous meat sauce and angel hair pasta. I feel better already!

The Elusive Mountain

The first time I came to Portland was in 1999, to attend a conference. The flight was late getting in so I saw little that night but the airport, the lobby of the chain hotel and my bed. I slept well and was up in time for breakfast before the meetings began.

I did my face and hair and dressed for the day. Then I opened the drapes and, Behold! There was Mount Hood, all stark and beautiful, looming out of the landscape and riveting my eyes. I was enthralled. It was love at first sight. It was July and the sun was out, glinting off the snow-capped slopes. The sky was a deep Madonna blue and what clouds there were, were small and bright-white. It was majestic and enchanting and I was lost. For the five days I was there, I saw the mountain daily and I envied the people who lived here and saw it all the time.

[Small, eight-year intervention by life]

Followed by a second trip to Oregon, to see if my favorable impressions would be reinforced. I flew into Portland Airport, where I had reserved a car. It was the 26^th of October, and though cloudy, the day was dry. I made the 177-mile drive up to Bend, where I would stay for a week just to unwind and enjoy the peace and the natural beauty. I took the northern route and looked at my favorite mountain to my heart’s content.

I enjoyed my stay in Bend. Everyone was so friendly and welcoming, and it was lovely there, but my real destination was Portland. I took the southern route and drove for what felt like days through Willamette National Forest. There was one town whose sign proclaimed “Population 15!” I don’t remember the name, but I remember thinking that it could have been 2007 or 1512, there among those giant trunks.

As luck would have it, the roads through the mountains had been perfectly clear, and I’d encountered only remnants of snow on my journey west and north.

I stayed at the charming Everett Street Guesthouse in NE Portland, run by the equally charming Terry Rusinow. Her cat, Sophie (for whom “Sophie’s Room” is named), deigned to sit in my lap and purr as I drank a cup of herbal tea and recovered from my drive. I was very comfortable in the “Wellfleet Room”, where I stayed during my time in the city.

The weather in Bend had been gorgeous and Portland showed me its beautiful, sunny Autumn face for most of my visit. I was shown around the town by two very kindly friends of friends, and once again I fell deeply in love, with Portland and with beautiful Mount Hood.

It took me a little over a year, but in the end the move was made with rather amazing speed. The decision was made, an opportunity arose, and before you could say, “I’ve rented my condo, sold my car and my furniture, given away carloads of stuff and stored the rest!” I and one cat were on one plane and my son, who wanted to see Portland and help me settle in, and the other cat, were on another plane. For some reason they wouldn’t let us have both cats on the same plane, since they were traveling in carriers and stowed under the seats.

The rest, as they say, is history. I’ve lived here in Portland for over three years, and if you’re into irony, it might amuse you to know how rarely I see the beautiful mountain which lured me here, to this place of clean, clear air and forest primeval, literally 20 minutes from the heart of the city. So often it is cloudy, or if it is clear, there is a haze of clouds that hangs right at the horizon, obscuring my view, though I know just where on the horizon it lies. I know from which vantage points on which trains or buses a glimpse will be granted; I’ve become an expert. Yesterday I cheated. I took the Max Train, the Red Line to the Airport, because I know that the mountain can be seen between two stops. I was eager to see the beautiful and elusive Mount Hood once more and I was in luck. Who would have thought something so large and incapable of movement would be so hard to track down!