Java’s Cafe – Rochester NY

AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I could just pour out heart brokenness all over this table and let it spill on the floor. Relief, in a big way. Not complete but entirely sufficient. It’s been too long. Too too long. The smack dab reality of contact with strangers in the old way, in the way of not getting in the way, sitting and minding my own business while the business passes and the bustle lasts longer than ticking tick tok time. Must everything move online? Let them! You take your digital-verse and I’ll sit here sipping golden cups of warm inspiration under the mangrove tree domed dreaming sphere of relief and recovery. Could this last? Is it meant to? Covering the unholy ground of spatial and regressive masked up countered comings and goings?

Just when I thought I could make it, I found myself panting for breath, a mouth dry from the wandering and the sitting. The never endless sitting. Company’s the strangers that we keep and knowing this full well, won’t make it last longer than the unerring tribe. Completely blessed wouldn’t find me half so lost. Completely gone couldn’t let me find the cost. Just as there is no thought without moment, there can be no spelling without depth perception. “Can you stand a little further off?” said someone other than the guy who wants nothing more than to implode into a stranger’s embrace and weep for an eternity. A sobbing lament for the ones we’ve lost this year and the needless suffering at the hands of “I know,” and, “they’re trying to take my freedom.” It’s not about you. It just simply isn’t.

History will judge us by our decisions, and the world will not only forever bear the scars of a generation’s foibles in combating pathogen, but also in the relentless shutting of our ear and eye to hear, see, receive simple plain truth. And the great sadness within me is that I can’t blame them. I can’t blame anyone who wants to stop up their ears and go stark raving mad the next time a disorienting Volvo commercial tells me my happiness is waiting for me behind miles of debt and four wheels. Can I be instructed any more than by owning a cellular phone?

Oh cut the crap, we don’t need another cell phone rant.

There’s truth and beauty in places that don’t make any money. Vocation is the sainted mistress that calls out from the cavern where I banished her years back.. clanging on the pipes through the floors from the basement. The best things in life aren’t free, they’re simple. And it’ll cost you your life. Your craving, your decency, your good name. But fall with me, won’t you? Walk out of bondage. Walk away and never turn back.

All story in the world strives to release us from bondage. It all groans to lead us out of captivity. But captivity always seems to be right next to a desert. Ha! Guess we’d better get better at sitting in hot sand.

But then comes the morning when clouds suddenly aren’t there, and our dreary eyed slumber wakes, straining to let the light in from an orange and yellow, violet streaked sunrise.

Just enough to get through. Just enough to get us through.

Precipice leaning, forward dreaming, current wavering hold off shaming. Counter the feint, and strike suddenly knowing that your foil isn’t in your hand, it’s in your mind. It’s in your training. Can it be we let it in completely? Not just opened the door but set the table and asked it to recline and stay the week, the month, and this mothy houseguest kept itself hidden long after we forgot it was here.

But no more. Today’s the day that eighties hope music flood our senses and opens the curtains wide. Good and ready for the morning’s frost. There’s a vision of hope descending welcoming our menial daily frivolities into courses of love that run smooth, straight highways of glass and gleam careening into a westward facing, east down surrender.

Come completely as you are. Let nothing be left to chance: there is no god loves you least.

Unfathomable healing returns in the grove. Once again, we can rest. We must.. The journey ahead will have students that must learn of us how and where to rest. How and where to unfold.

One day, none of it will happen “just in time.”


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