Uphill idealist

Recall watching a film or cartoon where a person is unexpectedly dropped into a desert and as a result of dehydration and extreme temperatures would begin to see mirages. The sun-scorched person would be stumbling through scalding sand dunes crying, "Agwa, Agwa!" Their situation was desperate and they needed someone to step in and help. They needed an oasis. Usually the lost desert wanderer's mirage would have elements of a sanctuary from the heat of the desert: cool clear water, waving palm fronds and plates of fresh fruit awaiting their consumption. Imagination would create and oasis of whatever the overheated person would desire in their dehydrated condition. Physical thirst can cause a person to become delirious, faint and even need serious medical attention to restore fluids and electrolytes necessary for the healthy functioning of the body. The impact of dehydration affects not only the body, but also the function and imagination of the mind. In actuality, mirages a...

Joy comes in the morning, but sometimes at noon. The day is just starting and I need a glimmer soon. Hours of talking revive and restore, shedding new light on what was before. Before all the tissues, the tea and the talk. Before we were learning how to toddle and walk. Understanding brings hope to the center again. A new day is dawning and it's ten after ten. Copyright T.L. Eastman 2008 Original Art from the blog Until my last breath

Written at a place of unknowing. Now that I know - all is seen. Indian Elephant enters the room. Talking to me, talking to you. She brings up the topics we don't want to see, don't want to reason, and don't want to be. How could something so large be so ignored, with nerves exposed and tears on the floor? Why do I care so much what you say? Tomorrow will change you mind anyway? Remember the dreams that captured our hearts when we were feeling lost in the dark? Recall the hope that nurtured and fed, when we wandered in silence, in fear and in dread. Revive the joy that I once say on your face, in your mind and surrounding your space. Indian Elephant lives in this room. Where self has become a barrier – Like a silk divider in a hidden room. Creating shadows and hiding clutter – What would it look like if we could really see each other? How could something so painful, so fearful, so small grow to fill the space of our context - our friendship and maybe our fall. Like a spli...

Sometimes circumstances make it necessary to go to higher ground... It could have been the business of my day. It could be that something got in the way. It could be I just needed a break, but writing isn't something I try to escape. The story I heard made me doubt: who I was, what I was saying and my never ending need to shout. In daily bursts of rhythm and prose. Plus streams of consciousness that would curl Dixinson's toes. What was I speaking for? Who really hears? I've got notebooks full of scribbling over many a year. The pages speak of days long done. Of battles fought and victories won. How did this chasm grow so vast? Was there an earthquake shuddering while my eyes were fixed on composition lined pages flipping past? Where did this impasse begin to grow? While I was sharing with you my life, my dreams, my soul? There's been lots of stopping and starting it seems, on the whims of fuss and flurry that you try to redeem. Redeem for something that is right and jus...