Constellation in 100

Sometimes I wonder how they connect, those glistening jewels above, creating myth and legend in the night sky. Past from generations, word of mouth, we sit and stare. Each star a beacon, tracing back the years. How many pointed to the heavens, creating beauty with upswept fingers in the air? Whispered words in reverent tones, the stories around campfires told. Or lulled to the rhythm of a rocking boat, just how to navigate. Lost and found, warrior or lover, all search for the constellation they call their own. While remembering the North Star is always there to guide us home.

Ben in 100

Responsible, life affirming, love you to the moon and back. You eat your cereal in loud slurping smacks though I can’t name the color of your eyes. Shaggy haired dog, aw shucks kind of man and yet, you lawyer in, pushing, cajoling, somehow seeing the big picture without losing too many details. The closest you get to yard work is staring out the window. Later, always later, there is more paperwork to do. Then you give with all your heart, bleed out willingly though you are blind, a fool. There is more to see than your solitary point of view.

100 on Writing

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It comes in waves, the good, bad and ugly. It sits in my soul, scratching to get to a page. It is my nemesis, my beloved, my best friend. Word upon word, building, crashing, digging deeper into the shadows where others live. Schizophrenia? Maybe. Lurking below the surface of a rational mind is a Dr. Suess inspired ride. Voices of pasts, of futures yet to live. Waiting. Waiting to dance across the stage, speak whatever words fall from frozen mouths to ink dipped quills that tap, tappity tap, tap, tap tap, in keyed up rhythms on letters fingers dance upon.

100 on Beast

It sits in me, this restless urge to fight the depths of what I do not know.  To bring light to the space where darkness grows. The void, pitch black, the feared and the not. Sacred somehow in its time and space. Of me it does not care, I am merely the beast knocking at its door. The fire breathing tendrils and caught up smoke, trapped and panting with rapid eye. I am the nothing to its all. The attached and unaware. Still I dive the depths and search in frantic waves. This thing that is me, aware and free.

100 on Hunger

Its sits inside me, an eternal flame, demanding quietly, gently, something more. Breathing it in, breathing it out, it hungers for all I can give. Every experience, taste and sound it wants to know. Every touch it wants to feel. A bottomless pit I cannot feed enough. It wears my skin. Knows no bounds as it reaches for you, eager to sample yet again another sweet drop of tumultuous heat, rousing from the deepest places in me to the sky.  Somehow to bear witness, to prove with nothing more than breath the sanctity of us. Satiation there will never be.

100 on Bliss

The salted sleep, the ocean waves, sand between my toes, safety, peace, the world revolving round, trees in the wind, all the simple things neglected or that which has been taken for granted. The heart fractured and now opening, healing, the stars in the sky, books, fingers entwined. The innocence returned with wisdom entwined. Songs, peals of laughter, dogs barking and a smattering pitter pattering of rain falling. Knowledge life’s enumerable pains all pass. It is not the big moments remembered, more the day to day grind forgotten in its simplicity and the growth of soul, now that is bliss.

100 on Soundtrack

It is the voice in my head on continuous loop. The one I cannot turn off, the one I’d like to sometimes drown. The song stuck with half word and sounds unexpressed. The soundtrack of a life in progress with many stops and starts. More comforting are the sounds of nature. The sudden pelting sheet of rain caught in a midsummer thunderstorm or the roar of ocean waves churned from the deep. Of course what would life be without music? Specifically the movie soundtrack that on many occasions evokes a depth of emotion I return to again and again? Complete.  

100 on Content

It is a word I rarely use these days. Seems I misplaced contentment upon entering the birth of another year. Funny how strongly I held it, how well I remember the feel and the taste. For something that so quickly slipped my grasp I do not recall when it was lost. I’d chase it if I thought that was wise; drink it in greedily the way one thirsts on a hot summer’s day. It is there, lurking, felt down below where the Soul grows. A fissure waiting to explode, I’m content within the knowing the peace is stirred from underneath.  

100 Words on Adapt

I’ve adapted to the chaos, to the push pull, to the thoughts going round and round on this merry go round here alone inside my head. I’ve adapted to the dance of two steps forward one step back, of singing a little off key. I’ve adapted to never knowing just how things will go and the unexpected surprises and ambushes life likes to throw. I’ve adapted to the fact change is one of those things I can love and hate, sometimes at the same time. I’ve adapted to knowing what was, is no longer what is. A never ending process.  

100 Words on Google

My God Send. What on earth did I do before Google? Actually try to remember things? Got an argument over a not so known fact, need directions, or have a book report due the next day? Count on Google to save your day. Want to download a picture, find a gift, can’t remember the name of a song, just the lyric repeating endlessly in your head. Go ahead, just Google. Be a Google King or Queen. Everyone can get in on the fun. Need to learn something new? How to repair that old shoe or the latest game walk through?