sometimes in life
you find things that are perfect for you
exactly the way they are

other times you have to do a little work
to make them perfect

If I can't find a way to get to you
wherever you go
it's not because I didn't try.

We'll put all of our sadness in this dumb suitcase,
and put it on that stupid plane.

And you stay here.

I am a genius.

We're packing up to leave the dharma farm. Guile's death, and the impossibility of knowing the what, how, and why of it, has taken the last lingering and dusty remnants of charm from the place. The big old chicken barn semi-converted into a fairly liveable home for humans that once was quirky and fun is now just unfit and sad. The poison that took our sweet and guileless Guile from us was probably meant to protect chickens whose lives had no value to their keepers beyond the eggs they produced. This is a place of sadness, suffering, and death, which we had hoped to redeem, but we are simply exhausted by grief and our only wish for this place now is to leave it. (more...)

Grief has a life of its own, and it touches everything without mercy or reason. The bed becomes too big, the room too quiet, the everyday actions too filled with longing, the words too full of meaning, the hours and days too long, the memories too painful and too precious.

Two things happened the other day, one expected and the other a complete surprise, both of which brought tears and steps toward healing. (more...)