Tutored by Orion

It's amazing how a conversation that is either not directed towards you or meant for you to hear, can change a certain, saturated part of your life.

I walked barefoot at the beach two nights ago. I just wanted to practice my senses alone. I had my eyes closed for most of the time while the water skipped across my toes and I listened to the gentle wind whisper into my ear. The sand felt overworked beneath my feet, and the foamy waves smelled of illness. I was well into my practice when I heard a man's voice pierce my concentration. It startled me and caused me to fall forward onto my knees into the ocean. I got up quickly and ran behind a black boulder-looking rock to compose myself. As I hushed my breathing and desensitized my knees, my ears honed in on the conversation the man and young woman were engaged in. I leaned over against the black rock and began to eavesdrop. They were sitting on a black and gold blanket with two feet of space between them; she had his leather jacket and he had his velvet voice.


"So he is your last salvation, huh?" The man paused, shifted his weight to the right, and pointed up to the sky with his left hand.
"Amy, look at the Big Dipper. That's the North Star, and that over there is Orion."
"Orion?"
"Yes Orion and his belt. Can you see those three consecutive stars?"
"Orion's Belt, huh?"
"Those stars look like they are close to each other don't they," said the young woman in a hollow voice, "but in fact, they're actually hundreds of light years away from one another."
"We learned that in elementary school."
"Well, that's Trent and I."
Her voice trailed off for a moment and continued in a stronger tone. "The things you see aren't always real. How hard must I try in order to understand the unseen truth? How far away is the distance between Trent and I?"
The older man leaned closer to the girl,"You want to understand him because you don't understand him, right? You want to understand him because you like him. So reach out your hands so that you'll gradually get closer to him. Unlike the stars, you have a choice to move closer, and strive to see what you are meant to see."


The wind picked up and five minutes later the conversation ceased. Unfortunately, I was unable to hear the rest of the man's advice to the woman. I heard them pack up and move on. I was underneath the sand: My eyes were on Orion. I was drained, finished, cracked, and dehydrated; but a minute or two later, I began making sense of what the strangers had said. Suddenly new emotions formed by the thoughts and analogies injected by the constellation conversation. I stared at his belt for a long time before I got up to make my way home. This was a lesson I was never going to forget; however small or insignificant it is to others, I learned something.

I will never forget it. I cannot forget it because I too, have a similar situation within my own story of life. This lesson won't be tested for a long time, perhaps, but I know for certain I will need to remember this because I am positive I will have to understand the true distance between the special people in my life, and do whatever it takes to move closer when the time is right.

Howls from your Lone Wolf

         I called to wish you a happy birthday, and like every year, I call you and all that comes out of my mouth is, "Happy Birthday" and that's about it. But the thing is - it's not it at all. I actually have so many things to say to you on your special day.

         Two nights ago I purposely set some time to think about you and all that you have done. These words came from my reflections in the moon.
         I lied beneath the moon while I enjoyed consuming the last remnants of winter. I waited till I felt the numbness of my fingers and toes to begin reciting my words born for you on that day. As I sank into the grass, I wondered if you were enjoying yourself; what were you doing at the same moment I was thinking of you? Were you with your favorite person, doing your favorite thing, and thinking your favorite thoughts? I wished to be where you were, though I had nothing to show you, give you, or tell you -- once again. But I hope my deepest thoughts for you can reach you now.

         Further into the night: I waited under the dark, speckled sky till I was just about freezing, so that my thoughts and feelings would come from my core, when churning with heat in its warmest form when appreciating you. In the mist of my celebration for you, my gift of thoughts swept me away to a place where I replayed my favorite memories that I had with you. I caught the visions of US. Oh goodness, I can't communicate these feelings properly, and also, I know there aren't words to describe the way I feel about you because my feelings are above language.

         In short, while praising you and wishing you a happy birthday, I think I was being healed: Thinking about who you are; what you've done for me; what you've done for everyone; sharing your gift of talents and friends; accepting me, and most importantly, forgiving me.
         I'm strange huh Dad?

Happy Birthday Father, Happy Birthday.

Molly: Breathing Comes in Pairs, Except for Twice, One Begins and One's Goodbye.

         There are so many things I want to say into your eyes. I feel that I would get this message through to you easier that way, but this is the best I can do for now.

         In what combination of words would best support my feelings of sincerity towards our friendship in the beginning of our farewell? These words must be perfect, but of course they will not be. This letter will be blurry and uncomfortable, like the way my eyes are as I press my emotions against my keyboard.
         The thing is -- I can't even see. I don't know what to see. But I feel -- I feel all that you have ingrained in my being in the last two concentrated years. They are all with me as I write to you at this moment. And I can't place a finger, a word, an emotion, or a phrase on how you feel about me, and that's fine, but I hope through these words you can understand how I feel about you.
      
         I have had friends ever since I can remember, but you were the first to make me become a friend. Since we became friends, I have seen you smile like the sun, cry like an orphan, shout at the top of your lungs, and smirk like a weasel. I rode on your waves of happiness and climbed up your tree of sorrow. You showed me the way to friendship without even knowing it. And how could you? Because with our peaceful journeys and radical adventures, I kept a sarcastic and comedic vibe between us because I thought that's what you asked of me. But in reality, I nurture the times we shared together. At times I look in the mirror and reflect our friendship and as a result, I finally see myself as a friend. A friend -- something passed around through voice, song, or thoughts; whimsically, absentmindedly, over generously - but for me I can finally see its true identity in the shape of myself. This is all because of you.
         These days I sit and watch the fog climb up my window. I recall the first time I ever cried for you - in December. And during the first time I cried for you, I realized I could not help you.
         And in the land of dreams, I see your nightmares. But this of course is not all the time. Every once in a while I see you smile and hear your laughter but they are hollow and wavered. I know deep down it doesn't go further than the outskirts of your mind.
         And this is where I begin to wish: I wish to see your heaving core as if it is impossible for you to keep your heart in your chest cavity. I wish to see the tension around the curves of your lips as you fight to control your laughter. I wish to hear your smile again; the one that could be heard over the phone thousands of miles away. I wish to see the muscles of your neck strain as you toss your head back in ecstasy.
         This might ... no this will come as a surprise to you when I tell you my most vivid point of our friendship. It actually happened recently. It was in the mist of chaos - the party. I was looking for you among the crowd. I scanned the drunken bodies as I felt the room fuzz and the ground shake beneath my knees. People pushed me left and right. Drinks splashed into my hair; I was lost. Just as I was about to give up - I saw your smile. You stumbled over the crowd and took my hand. At that moment I was shocked. One, I had never held your hand, and two, your hand was ice cold - the complete opposite of what radiated behind your smile.
         Anyways, what I mean to say is that I just have this feeling that you are keeping something inside. I laugh at myself when remembering your palm in my hand. It was my window at midnight; cold, dark, and lonely. And I know that I am just a figment in your weekly routine, but I see the path you walk. Why walk alone? Why not let me walk with you till you fly back to your beautiful island?
         I received a text from you today. Today and on, I will sink inside myself and spin a web of armor to shield from what is to come: Our goodbye.
         As this letter comes to a close, I just want to say thank you. If only I could calm your restless spirit so I could officially say that your time with me was well spent. Your brush strokes across my heart paint a portrait of happiness. Can you see it? I would like you to have it when we say goodbye. It will finally be ready on the day of your leave. And another thing -- I don't want to start over with someone new. So take anything that's better for you. Take anything that's better from me. You were never a waste of time.
         During the final moments of our time together, I would like to feel the palm of your hand one last time to feel the difference from that night. And you will not cry at me like you sometimes do, because you will be crying with me.
         .... As I again recall the beginnings of our friendship, I can remember your smile as my guiding light. As time went on, your light became smaller and smaller until it was a mere flicker of my imagination. So please, before you leave, send me that smile again. Let it guide me to our happy place. As selfish as it sounds, smile for me; into me. And so, my precious light; this is the beginning of my goodbye.

My 5-7-5: Spring '10

To Spring: The more green
I see, the healthier I
seem to be. Thank you.

There are no fires
on these hills, but there is one
burning up my heart.

Constant tears drench her
cheeks, staining her chin. My
wish is for her smile.

Wrapped up in your belt,
I am crisp towards you. I stare
as long as I can.

I brush the dust off
the card you sent me. I read
our promise out loud.

Lying under the
moon, I beat my chest like a
congo drum. Hear me!

It drizzles when the
skies are clear; it pours as the
horsetails fade to gray.

The words you whispered
separate like and love; please
don't let me forget.

Spring's birth is poignant;
and I can feel its needs while
laughing in the rain.

You look up at me,
but then I just feel down. I'm
not the one you need.

Like a new-born star,
you are untouchable and
impressive at night.