Written 4/18/05:

To be honest, I left the wedding overwhelmed by my loneliness. Sometimes I see too much, get too deep into people and I wish there were someone I could talk to about how to handle all the impressions I get, the images and the feelings. Sometimes I wish the night lasted forever and we could all lay down our costumes and masks and the roles we play, and just be ourselves under the cover of night. Sometimes I think playing a human being is a hard job because you can't just exist, unencumbered by contrivance. Every situation demands a different set of social protocol. No one gets to behave "as is" in the light of day. We lose the fluidity and truthfulness of just being.

Why does there exist within me, a cold, logical robot as well as an amorphous emotional being? Why is it so hard to be a human being? When I went in to have Lasik on my eyes, there were complications so it took a long time. They had put anesthetic drops on my eyes, but after everything was said and done, they reapplied the anesthetic on my left eye and operated, then FORGOT to reapply it on my right and operated. I felt the laser slice into me and it was like a slow paper cut on my eyeball, but I didn't say anything because you're not supposed to move. It only last a few minutes, but they basically operated on my eye without anesthesia. Sometimes I feel like that's my experience of life. I don't go through it numb enough. There's too much awareness, of things I don't even need to be aware of. All that's inevitable...everything gained will eventually be lost. All that we have is borrowed and never owned. Our lifetime is a loan, blessed upon us to gain experience. The people in our lives, our youth, our beauty, our wealth, we give it all up someday, and death is the great equalizer when it's time to give up our borrowed time and human identities. And there's such an urgency to be real and for us to understand the very power we have when we are all connected and real, but we're standing on a stage so it's hard not to fall into acting within this play that has yet to conclude. Everything is ephemeral and things have to always be in motion but on the outside, there's one connecting line that runs through every single person and being in existence, and we just get so caught up that we forget that there's a bigger story beyond pages measured out by single human lifetimes. But to survive in a world built by humans, which plane do we choose to live in?

Written 3/6/08:

a stranger said, you're a person someone meets and the next morning, he's not sure if he's met a person or a ghost.

another said, you're the kind of woman when a man looks back and realizes he's made some wrong choices in life, he'll always remember and wonder about you.

and yesterday, you said nothing. yet i heard your echoes loudly.

what are words but ephemeral meaningness, when meaning can only be momentarily grasped like running water over fingertips?

what are you to me, but a fleeting moment? a hand thrusting out in a world passing so quickly, sometimes goodbye precedes hello.

but in some quiet moments, when a person stops trying to keep up with the world and stands still for a powerful moment, he'll find someone who is also there. this person can see him, feel his rhythm, find his pulse outside the blur. and more than anything, this person believes he exists.

within him comes the sun--noble, proud, a provider by sheer expansion of will. and within her is the moon. that deep, still pool of protective energy promising safe harbor and replenishment. the good father and the mother. what each of us uniquely lacked. and from these symbols created within you, you find the power to heal.

until you find the meaning you seek, you shake every hand.

What do you understand?