when the definition of caring is removed from sharing

I’ve been thinking about what I “share” on Facebook lately.  It has consumed every free time I have.  I get caught up also in what people have to share find myself knowing someone better but not really.  When real life social actions take place, nothing is really new anymore because, “oh I saw that on facebook that you… ”

So now when I get the urges to blab about whatever I am thinking about on that moment and that time, I find myself deleting that last comment. I want my social interactions to be new, to be fresh, to feel human again.

Facebook has been such a social dichotomy  for myself and I would like to think for many.

I love and I hate it.

However I have  been practicing to not rely on my smart phone to put me to sleep, or have it be part of my morning waking up routine.  I need to get in touch with myself, my soul and my surroundings.

and so i write this….

 

Nourish the soul with nature and love.

Finding one connected with millions and yet feeling solitude.

From the bitter complaints, to the petty food posts,

baby announcements, and political quotes.

but what is a text and picture on a screen compared to a touch from a human being?

An emotional touch

A physical touch

Silencing our voices with posts, likes, and comments.

We need to be heard and seen

but not through a computer screen

break free and reconnect

with the human spirit all around us.

 

 

 

when the leaves are brown

So I have this tree in front of my house that just causes a mess every fall.   Last year I would sweep up our yard everyday after work, and would complain that the next day there would be no difference.  This year I have taken a different approach to fall.  Instead of bitterly sweeping up my yard, I took light in the fact that my concrete yard and driveway is now a bright orange.  I would just sweep enough to at least make a decent walk way to the door, and sweep maybe once every other week or so.  If I did sweep I would just laugh when the leaves would fall again.  There is something about sweeping that is meditative, and there is also something about not sweeping that makes me smile at the vibrant colors, the movement of leaves falling, the sounds of the crunch, and the texture of each line in every unique foliage.

Each time I task, I think of some poetic line, and remind myself that I should write a poem about this.  Then my mind goes back and forth and I say I should just write a story.  But each and every time I am outside doing this chore, I think of only one metaphor.  This tree represents my everyday struggle and balance with the changes of life.  I am one leaf, I could also be many leaves.  My friends, my family, my students, my classmates, my kasamas are also the leaves.  Going with the “flow” we all fall.  We all get shaken up a bit.  Sometimes it’s on purpose, sometimes it’s the wind, sometimes it’s an inevitably cycle.  But not matter what, we , or I am part of something bigger.

and so I wrote this poem…

collectively the leaves fall on the pavement

colors so bright against the gray.

all dried up they crush against my shoes.

creating a beautiful mess.

push them against in piles,

bring them all together

gather them around

scoop them up

isolate them in a bin.

Then a gust of wind shake up the branches they fell from,

and the beautiful mess starts all over again.

yes this is a love poem

this is going to be a love poem.

It might make you sick with all the cheese,

but damn, i’m in love! for reals this time.

It’s one of those I feel it in the pit of my stomach kind of love,

(you throwing up yet? cause I am, just thinking about this love)

People ask me jokingly, “was it his guitar playing that made you love this guy.”

I giggle and laugh and say no,

but I aint going to lie, it did catch my attention.

(damn it’s so sexy the way you use your hands mmmmm …. oh umm )

but it’s one thing to catch my attention, and a whole other magic to keep my attention.

(lord knows, and so do many of my close friends, that I have ADD when it comes to relationships)

It’s a good thing I fell in love with a wizard, because he definitely casted a spell on me.

when he talks, when we talk, its real talk.  It’s engaging talk.  It’s stimulate your brain talk.  It’s, we will have a debate about revolution and relate it to world of warcraft kind of talk.

When he listens, (haha well it depends on what I am talking about, house chores needs to be talked about with ease. or when I choose to talk to him, it better  not be during sports center or one of his raids) but he listens with his heart, and responds with wisdom that I knew deep in my heart was right, but too stubborn to listen.

our outings are never planned,

because our social life revolves around community.

tuesday nights at the cafe, art show, the fighting cocks.

the community brought us together, and now it feeds our souls.

Doing nothing at home is also enjoyable.

just light it up, put on our favorite television series and it is on.

I never knew a soul mate existed until I met you.

So far it’s going great, and I hope you feel the same way too.

scroll down for acceptance

scroll down for entertainment

other people’s lives are just more interesting than my own.

but wait till you see what I ate today

I need a nap

this world

step into this world

is it yours?

is it mine?

each day we are told

what to do

with our time.

truth is, there is none

this world we live in is just a projection.

A projection of each subcultures’ lies.

wake up and find revelation!

that the truth is not what is told

but the truth is what is felt.

emotions don’t lie

emotions defy

many branches of emotions are rooted down by two

fear and love.

my date with long beach pier

salt water breeze
lifts the tiny hair follicles lifting each root away from my skin.

the sun beams warm me as thoughts of present past and future

rush in my mind like the wind creates ripples in the sea.

not a cloud in the sky, creating the perfect backdrop for harbor cruise tours

carrying individual minds, of awe and wonder.

while restaurant goers come for happy hour,

bicyclist on their daily ride

the loud smack of skateboard to pavement

brontosaurus transformer like cranes add to this picture

as I sit on top of this bay

long beach

you are indeed a beauty

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

late into the hours

late into the hours they make love, without contact

creativity captivates them both.

individually

without talking

without touch

both intoxicated with the gifts from above

of enlightenment

of enjoyment

of bliss

and excitment

both in each corner

one creating music

one creating words

silently

in each corner

embracing nocturnal creativity

late into the hours they make love without contact

spare some change

break a dollar and change it

the value remains the same

but the parts of it can be distributed to more individuals.

“be the “change” you wish to see in the world”

equations

In moments of loneliness

one like myself finds time to reflect

some of memories that might be mistaken for unfaithfulness

but rather than just reject

those memories out of my brain

a thought of gratitude will always and will remain

that we have crossed paths

and have learned from each other

that this universe has done its math

and we are all but one variable to the final answer.

new light

judge not what I do with my life, but rather acknowledge this new road i am taking.

the river has not run dry, rather it has reached a knickpoint.

I chose not to make lemonade with these lemons, but rather a pomogranate lemonade concoction.

The fire within me has not died out, rather the flames danced around my heart igniting a new desire.