I can’t write. Sometimes it happens. The material is there. And the thoughts are spun. But I just can’t bring myself to sit at the loom. Or as Buddha might have methaphor-ed it, “my cup…
Browsing Category transitions & home
haunting home
(the sunrise, this morning, in oregon) ***** (A letter to two former neighbors, dear friends, and fellow divemasters, who continue to live in Taganga, in the hotel of the house where I was living in…
Pocket Change
Journal Entry San Francisco Airport 21/5/04 Pocket Change Sitting in the airport — American legs, Indian arranged. I empty my pockets of India — to show for nothing but some change. A Rupee or two,…
In THIS Life
I once had a Life. And in it there were cream colored carpets, umbrellas, sweet coffees, vacations, white gowns, red roses and a box at the end of my driveway that received in it, each…
High Winds in the Dominican Republic
In regards to the last post, my name was cleared (thank you integrity), friendships rekindled and kisses made up. But since then I think I’ve realized that the incident was only the last breeze of…
a reality float
A Reality Float This weekend I was at salsa bar in Portland. I escaped from a twirling-wonderland on the dance floor for a brief re-hydration break. The bartender gave me the acknowledgement nod. Me: “Agua,…
small hand of home
***** Well I have certainly found something here at home to compete with chili-ed mango and salsa dancing…. …the small hand of my sweet three-year-old niece, clutching onto mine all thru the night, as she…
and the road goes ever on and on…
And the Road Goes Ever On and On… A little clarification… True: I will be VERY sad (and scared) leaving Central America. False: I dread going home. And the difference between these two statements? Worlds….
a message from god in hell
A Message From God in Hell *head spins* Where to EVEN start? So after Cuba, I hopped bus and made my way to Tulum, Mexico. I “planned” (why do I even bother?) to arrive in…