a tree is knowledge

The leaves of a tree are special. In every moment they are a gift to the world. They awaken from sleep in the Spring. They flesh out and become all that they are: not knowing nor caring that they live off what City Man believes to be poison. They provide shade in the Summer, and become shelter for birds, and food for many. In Fall they become many colours, not one the same as another — all beautiful. As Winter enters under the nose of Fall, the leaves gracefully let go of their branches and float to the ground. There, they sleep.

Away from the seasons, the leaves are the lungs of the tree. Though lungs are light and vulnerable, they are powerful and can fill balloons and whistles and flutes. The leaves, small and green, are responsible for bringing up the water from the roots. It is the suction of the pores in a leaf that freshens the air and quenches the thirst of the tree. The roots burrow, the leaves pull.

There is much majesty and magic in a tree whose roots wander into the ground. If you have ever been by a lake, you may have noticed how the roots of a tree can extend as far along, and as deep below, as the tree stands tall. What is unseen is as magnificent as what is seen. To appreciate beauty is to know that it exists in the light and in the shadow — for surely it is both. A tree stretches out into the sky and reaches for expansion because it digs so deeply into the ground. A tree stands great thriving in the light above, and the dark below.

ribbons & string

as if my chance
or fate -- though, too often
my fate rested on chance...

you wander before my life,
picking daisies and smelling roses,
just down the hill, too far than I am.
and then there is that thing you hum
that I thought was mine all mine,
and you go along singing it out of my
        the rhymes
             like ribbons and st

my heart always found a way outside of my
ribs, even as another smiled confidently
believing she held the only key, the locks
wither from their frost and open the door,
you walk in unexpectedly.

“Everything is premium in the proper company”

Sometimes it does not take much. Today I performed at an Open Mic at the Highland Pub on the Simon Fraser Burnaby Campus. There was not much of a crowd in numbers, but numbers were never really my thing anyway. Fans come and go, but there are moments that do not slip by so easily. As my second set of humble footprints into the world of live music, this Open Mic was welcoming…even though I started off with a few cock-ups. There is much value to playing a venue with a soul or two listening — to me, performing and sharing the gifts inside you to share is about quality and not quantity. To connect with a soul intimately is very special, it is why humans are social beings (Though being social feels at times something different). To even have people present was incredibly cool and it has motivated me to continue writing songs; I finally understand why artists say they write for their audience (because its true!). I prefer a genuine audience, no matter the size. Having two open mic’s under my belt and meeting new people has definitely already shown I can make a difference in my community. Not too much I want to talk about today, but it’s nice of you to drop by. I wish you warm hugs a plenty.

for you my dear

the dew forms soundlessly
born between the sacred bonds and folds of heaven and earth.
no sense of time: the beat of my heart when it is with your heart.
patient, and curious, so quiet is our passion; privy to the minds
of children, as whispered secrets kept safe in the sleeping trees,
the trust of grandchild and grandfather and grandmother.
a love so substantial for our bodies; (that)
a new colour, a new life, gives
unto the world.

when the spirit of this flower is spent,
and the wonder of our days have no more tomorrow,
that which was borrowed, that which was lent,
we'll live to return,
   hold us in peace, nevermore in sorrow,
and on that Morning, when we leave
   this world our best,
in the loving arms of storyteller trees,
      we will rest,
        we will rest,
         we will rest.

love is a creation

They say love is a construction. They say love is an addiction, a chemical formula that our bodies manufacture. They say love is an illusion that your fools your brain. But we know to not believe everything we’re told.

Love is a creation. Love is what stays with us after the sun goes down, and remains before the sun goes up. Love grows and lives just like you or me, it grows in you and me. Love does not exist because chemical A releases into organ B, organ B and chemical A exist because Love exists. Love is a place and and a birth. “Hope is a beginning, but love is forever.”

Some of us live and grow in love so much that we need to bring another into this world to share it.

be water

Gravity is pulling me down. Keeping me grounded. It is no enemy. If you are a believer in Heaven, it is gravity that will bring Heaven to you. Perhaps the stars in Heaven naturally try to escape our eyes, and, in hurry, look for the nearest hiding spot in the corners of the universe, the corners of our eyes. Dancing with gravity, the stars fall.

Gravity reminds you of where to be: on your feet. Stand, and your strength is in your connection to the ground. No matter where you turn, leap, or stride, the energy you use relies on the steadiness of the earth underneath you. Even the bird accepts gravity.

To fly is not to struggle or to fight. If you’ve seen a bird in flight you know that it does not need to keep flapping its wings to stay in the air. Even the crow knows how to soar. It overcomes gravity because it becomes gravity, and therefore remembers it is gravity. With the acceptance of gravity, it springs from the ground, the branches, the water.

Water knows how to receive gravity with grace. Always falling, streaming, flowing, dripping, water lies in the lowest point. It slips between grains of sand with each wave; it disappears in your hands when you hold on to it too long, slipping through what seems solid.

Float, water keeps you above the surface. Sink, water surrounds you and becomes weight. But remember yourself and in water you learn you to become weightless. You learn you are weightless.

who says?

Who says you can’t fly? There is so much potential to the human being. Many of that potential goes unrealized in people. Many do not live their life, they spend it. I don’t blame them, it’s hard to be yourself — hell, it’s hard to even know yourself. Some things take practice.

Who says you need eyes to see? Helen Keller had eyes, and though she was blind physically, she saw so much of what life really was. Is. She saw more than many people see in their lives today. She was deaf to verbal-auditory language, but maybe that’s how she could listen to her heart. “Life is a daring adventure or nothing.”

It’s hard to understand that you are someone who is always changing and have so many aspects of you to discover. Society does not help. It tells you to Spend, to Have; few times it tells you to Be. Sometimes we mistake what society tells us for what We tell us. The best part about a mistake is that you can learn from it. Though I realize I might have contradicted myself saying whether you should or should not listen to society, I mean to say that it does not take a wise person to speak wise words. The truth does not need to be explained, only heard.

love must be made of dirt

Love must be made of dirt. We are born from the ground, and that is where we return to. Love is what birthed us into this world, giving us bodies and all her resources to nourish these bodies. What we do is what we give back. I am not proud of all the gifts I have given, some of them were worse in the giving back than in the taking. But so is the nature of Life.

Life, holding love’s hand, seems to guide us when we cannot lead anymore.

We live for each other. When we are young, we live for our parents or ourself. When we are a teenager, we live for our peers. When we are adults, we live for our lovers and friends. When we are adults still, we live for our children. When we are ripe, we live for our children’s children. Death is a friend and not a foe. Even the darkest, most hated bodies nourish life.