February will not defeat me

The clarity of the day as I open my blinds is an illusion, as is much
of what we experience.

(Disclaimer: this is written in a slightly intoxicated stated after
a Dali-level-surrealist day late on a Friday night. This is not a
linear conversation -- welcome to the many voices in my head -- and
will probably go up unedited).

I woke knowing so much. The universe laughs at me.

A month is an hour to one, two centuries to another, so since last
week it is only 15 minutes to him, and 50 years to me.

Yet I am not a day older. I get younger actually.

Why do you need to be so responsible?

I wake with intentions, which are thwarted each moment. This new
soul calling me to delay my hike, keeping me home all morning,
afternoon in Florida, as my mother transitions to this next phase.
I hear her slipping away as we talk. Later, I see her in her room
with the garden view as if I am there, I cry because already what I
most fear is gone: who do I call now?

Thank you for letting me go through this alone. I know I would only
use you to avoid this journey I must make.

"Look at the snow and then, there, the ocean," my new guide points to
the east then west, convincing me that Runyon Canyon has its
beauty. I let go of my skepticism and marvel at the landscape:
neatly packed houses dot green hills, the newly renovated white dome
of the observatory imitates the grandeur of the white capped
mountains miles away. "That is where I want to be tomorrow," feeling
caught by the schedules of others as I long for the snow, for the
feeling of being really alive, risking, for something to require and
capture my complete attention, keeping my mind from wandering to
places it doesn't need to be. The air yields and invites, the smog
of LA lifting, a sign, permission?

An atheist with a conscience; a metaphysical practitioner and salsa
dancer. New teachers, new essays? "What is the point of these
essays of these encounters with strangers?" "Behind each face, each
package of human being, is often something unexpected, but we don’t'
know unless we are open to being wrong about our stereotypes and
initial judgments. "

I did this for you, can you do the same for me?

"It is good to meet a soul with depth, who is aware there is
something to be aware about. I want to spend more time with you."

Thank you for asking me the questions I need to hear, for reminding
me of what I know.

I need to do this alone. No one can help me. "You realize by that
statement you are closing doors on love and comfort." Yes. You are
right. But maybe I really need to do this alone, not wage emotional
terrorism on those I love (or those I don't).

Maybe that is what we needed to hear tonight.

She can only take her next trip alone. I am there, thousand of miles
away.

I go not where they pray for me, though my prayers are with them.

The best I can do for her, for me, for you, is to awaken my body upon
the snow, evidence of my strength and will and reality, then to
celebrate and nurture that under the stars in the desert, this life
you gave me and taught me not to squander.

February will not defeat me.