Lately I have been thinking a lot about the relationship between earth and water. I have always been fascinated by the concept of which is stronger.

Earth is solid. It is the foundation upon which all is built, holds things together, provides stability. Often considered harsh, stubborn, rough or even unbreakable. Its rocks and mountains are synonymous with strength, its soil the birthplace of life and the resting place of death.

Water is fluidity and motion. Its power is in its force and unpredictability. Sometimes it is the calm, quiet of a warm rain, sometimes the destruction of a tidal rapture. It has many forms, intensities and paces. Its reflective beauty unmatched. Giver of life.

The fact of the matter is they are both equally strong, but cannot reach their full potential without the other. Water carves the amazing canyons into the earth, smooths the rough edges of the rocks, provides the nourishment for all that begins in the warmth and safety of the soil, allowing it to develop into what it was meant to be. Earth provides the structure in which water exists – gives it a home to thrive in and keeps it from losing its place, while still allowing it to rush over its cliffs as spectacular waterfalls or gently flow through its mountains and fields as streams and rivers. Very rarely do you see one without the presence of the other. When one is lacking, the other may exist but it is usually an unbalanced, extreme circumstance, where things get out of control, and possibly even die.

We seek what is absent in our own nature in order to compliment and fulfill our existence.

I love the feel of digging in the dirt, but…

I always dream of water.

Pacific Blue and Wild Blue Yonder
Embrace the hearts of sea and sky.
Seduction and passion
Belong to Sapphire and Lapis Lazuli.
Indigo possesses the soul of jazz,
Before it becomes the darkest hue of Midnight Blue.
Blue Bell and Periwinkle
Are for innocence and flowers,
Turquoise and Royal
Are brave and empowered.
Steel, Cadet and Blizzard Blue may be cold, but have their place.
Foundations that support us in this difficult race.
Cosmic Cobalt is full of wonder,
Navy Blue is for your Mother.
Cornflower is light and free,
But none is more endeared to me,
Than beautiful, independent, sweet, mysterious
Cerulean.

Sitting in a corner of the tiny dance studio,

I watch her every move, not wanting to miss a thing.

I commit it all to memory, not knowing how long I have to view.

Taking photos in my mind, I file it all away.

Fingers gently resting on the barre,

Not too tight, barely there.

Cheeks flushed pink, slightly dew-kissed.

A renegade tendril brushes her forehead,

Escaping the tightly pulled regimen of gel and pins.

Toes trace a precise demi-circle.

Studio cat winds his way

 Through his personal playground of dancing legs,

Bending, extending through the pain.

Pointe shoes thud, thud, thud,

Wood floor creaks and speaks,

 As she becomes one with the music,

With herself.

Eyes focused and intent,

So full of beauty and life.

Pushing beyond limitations,

Ready to take on the world.

Driving on the road toward Oregon, Diana felt her lungs expand, her breathing ease. She needed this trip more than anyone knew – more than she herself even realized until just this moment. As she listened to Pete Yorn on her “Trip of Road” playlist, she gradually felt all the semi-permanent wrinkles in her forehead smoothen out,  relax a bit. The knots in her shoulder were another story altogether – they would take a little more than a road trip to resolve. For now, she  just enjoyed and even relished her Dutch Brothers Milky Way Mocha. It was, after all, the crucial ingredient for a successful transition from hila monster to hell of a lot better. Deep down though, she knew she couldn’t completely relax until she had passed it.

It was coming up soon, probably in the next ten or fifteen miles. An odd, yet familiar sense of anxiety and anticipation  arose within her. She wasn’t sure why, but when she passed “The Paper Tree Forest,” as she liked to call it, the effect - the same every time. She knew it was silly, and kind of embarrassing, but she couldn’t help it.

The place creeped her out.

The landscape barren, nothing but dirt and sagebrush clustering in mounds, almost like their own little colonies, along the roadside. A wind so strong it acted as a blender, creating a desert kaleidoscope of muted browns and grays, howling in its solitude. 

And then, as if out of nowhere, it appeared before her, beckoned her.

 Miles and miles of man-made forest, all planted in exact, perfect rows extending as far back as the eye could see. Their sole purpose, reason for existence –  paper production. The trees stood like proud soldiers waiting for battle, knowing their unquestionable fate of casualty; of death and reincarnation.

 Diana’s thoughts swirled in her head. What would it be like at night, under the blanket of darkness?  How easily you could lose your sense of direction - the dauntingly identical rows, so tall and slender, feeding off the frenzy. A place, she imagined, a serial killer might do his bidding, amongst the infinite maze of doom.

Panic consumed her. She drove  faster, hoping for an escape… tried thinking of something completely different. The wheels in her mind spun faster than the ones on her car.

Ok, she could do this. Breathe.

Coffee, blue hydrangeas, waterfalls. The Chinese Garden, red umbrellas in the rain. Freshly picked strawberries bursting in your mouth. Good…breathe, slowly. The smell of books. The way bread dough feels as it squishes between your fingers…

Girls in white, ethereal gowns…in the forest?  The smallest glimpse, slightest flicker, but she knew she saw it. Or had she merely created them?

Her palms dripped sweat and her ears  throbbed with chaotic ringing. Her heart pounded savagely. Bright lights appeared before her like stars exploding in the sky as blackness overcame her.

On an apparently somewhat normal seeming day at the local bookstore…

psychic ghost lady informed management that there were angry native american spirits in this store and that there was a portal to other realms located in the back of the cafe…

pagan goddess did not like this at all so she hid crystals in the bookshelves to counteract the bad vibes…

conservative christian was offended by the wiccan endcap and wanted to know why the gay and lesbian section was located right next to the religion section and could we please change that…

gay man wanted to know why we had not put up the optional gay pride encap yet…

republican wanted to know why we were hiding all the conservative political books…

democrat wanted to know why the liberal books were not in the front window with the conservative books…

found in sex aisle…passion parties business card,
coffee and a bible…

found in children’s department on storytime stage…sex book  with curious george collection book jacket…

found in main aisle…popcorn trail leading to women’s bathroom…

popcorn lady wanted to know if we could clean up all the paper towels someone had just scattered all over the entire bathroom, and why this happens every friday night at the exact time she is here…

No, really…anyone read any good books lately…and how exactly do you get through that portal?

Gray skies, gray heart.
So gray she predicted there would be a heavy cloud
Hovering over her home,
Upon her return from chinese food,
Just waiting, patiently,
To empty itself on her.
She watched the sky on the way home…nothing.
She pulled onto her street…not a cloud in sight.
Into the driveway…there it was.
As she opened the door…

The roar of thunder permeated her being.

The moment she stepped out of the car,
The sky poured down rain.
She laughed,
Went inside,
Into her closet,
Sat on the floor…
and she poured down rain.

Only a once in a while thing.
Too often can ruin the magic it bestows.
Feel the netting rustling against my legs as I walk.
Swishing back and forth,
giving sound
and volume
and courage.

It is soft and feminine,
Bright and full of strength,
Only needing to be called forth.

As it hangs in my closet for months at a time,
I hear it beckoning to me.
“TODAY, TODAY IS MY DAY!”
How can I refuse it?
Only the dress can say
what is the day…and all the potential it beholds.
As I put it on gently,
I feel it hug me as we become one.

It was an ordinary Saturday morning for 10 yr. old Tony Cordova- a day full of endless potential, matched only by the exuberance and impatience of the young boy waiting for it to begin. Dad was still sleeping in the motel bedroom so Tony tried to be as quiet as possible while he got himself some Captain Crunch and turned on the cartoons. The room was dark except for the glow of “The Banana Splits” on the TV.  It was getting close to 10:00 and Tony was getting anxious…he really wanted to go swimming.

Then he heard it.

Something was happening in the parking lot.  It wasn’t the best area in town so this wasn’t anything unusual, but there was something different this time.  Curiosity got the best of him as he went to the window and barely raised a blind…just enough to peep outside and see what was up.

Voices were getting louder now – it was a man and a woman at the far end of the lot, yelling at each other and causing a scene. The man grabbed her and started shaking her, then threw a punch at her. Tony’s big, brown eyes were wide open, almost bulging out of his sockets, as he continued watching, barely breathing, cereal turning to mush. She had been knocked to the ground now and was screaming. She pulled a gun out of her purse and with every ounce of might in her, she shot him,once and then again, right in the gut.  Tony’s jaw dropped in silence…was this really happening?  It was quiet now, the woman looking around, surveying the scene.  She spotted a garbage can on the sidewalk and quickly went to it, placed the gun inside and went back to the fallen man.  She started crying and screaming again, “SOMEBODY SHOT MY BABY!!!…SOMEBODY SHOT MY BABY!!!” as the man  crawled away slowly, almost slithering.

The boy’s heart was racing so fast, he felt it pounding in his throat as he tried to swallow.  He made his way to where his father still slept, woke him up and told him what he had just seen.  “What?!” his father said groggily as he made his way to the window himself, to verify  the story spewing from Tony’s mouth.  People were beginning to gather outside now, like ants flocking to a melting, red popsicle dropped on the sidewalk, getting sticky with the heat.  He quickly closed the opening in the blinds and looked his son squarely in the eyes.  “You didn’t see anything. Do you understand? You didn’t see anything.”

Tony and his dad went outside, closed the door to their room behind them and made themselves comfortable on the stoop, alongside all the other residents.  One came and sat with his dad – they chatted casually as the sirens got closer.

“Did you see anything?” the neighbor asked.

“Nope, we didn’t. I slept through the whole thing,” said his dad.

Tony felt as if he was going to burst. Completely out of control of his own being now, he leaned toward the man and whispered slowly, ”I SAW EVERYTHING!”  to which his father quickly responded, “My boy didn’t see ANYTHING!”

The cops and ambulance had arrived, taking control of the chaos, making their rounds, questioning the sidewalk-sitters, getting no witnesses whatsoever. No one saw because no one wanted their own secrets behind all those closed doors exposed…much better to let the cops figure it out on their own.  The boy watched quietly as the police searched for a weapon, whispering to himself, “it’s in the garbage…it’s in the garbage can…you’re so close…”

In the midst of all this, the motel owner’s son, Ravi, who was about Tony’s age, came running up to him.

“Do you want to see the room?!”

Tony looked at his dad with excited, hopeful puppy dog eyes and was told,  ”Go ahead,” as he was shooed onward, a slight smile on his dad’s face.  The boys ran unabashedly to the room.

The door had been left wide open.  Two steps up, through the door,  a stripe-like trail of blood  led to the unmade bed where it soaked in puddles on the sheets, then over the bed into the bathroom.  the room was very unkempt.  The body had been removed, but nothing had been taped off by authorities yet so the boys waltzed through the room without concern for contaminating the crime scene.  They stared in disbelief at the massive amount of blood on the bed, where the man had obviously dragged himself, before he died.  Suddenly an officer appeared in the room.

“You boys are gonna have to get outta here now!”

Tony returned to his room, where his dad helped him clean the blood off his shoes.  His earlier thoughts of going for a swim now seemed like a distant memory, even though he probably would still go later that afternoon, when everything calmed down.

Tony never said a word…but he never  forgot.

The well of solitude sucked me so far down that day…
Empty, cold, tight.
Trapped in my own dark hole of chaos.
Fear, despair, panic.
What if I can’t find my way out?
I am not ready to accept this as my destiny…
not now, not yet.
The lines on the coffee pot evade me.
The boulders in my belly are so heavy.
I am stuck in the sludge.
Maybe tomorrow…
mere gravel will reside in my gut.
The rope to freedom
will suddenly appear before me.
Coffee will be made with a vengeance…
lines or no lines.
The abyss is allowed here no more.