A blue boat
in the Mediterranean,
seven hundred balance,
broken, silent,
an unchosen arc,
rocking hearts dulled
by a slender chance
at survival.

Bitter dread grips
those not in boats,
greeted by the unexpected,
fumbling the knot of wrongdoing.
Surprised faces
bob in peaks and troughs.

Somewhere
between the
abandonment of hope
and the next breath
lies arrival.
A remembrance of
a buoyancy,
a slender space
of kindness,
holds all refugee stories
breathing freely
wave after wave.

It's been a year since my suicide attempt. Right now, I'd be in the ER waiting to find out which inpatient clinic I'd go to. One year. Since, I have escaped from toxic people and shifted from an old self. One year. What do I have to show for it? Emotional outbursts? A nicotine addiction? Abandoning my creativity? A battle with a psychological addiction to psychedelic drugs? What does progress look like? What does it mean to reconstruct yourself? A building torn - that's what I am. A prairie, a forest, which has experienced a wild fire. Beyond recognition, I deface myself - as if to erase myself and destroy the things I like. What does progress look like? Am I getting there? In my view, progress is not always seen by you directly. It is not our job to determine if we make progress, but, by the value of people and situations in our lives, we will have it be seen. To do things for ourselves is wonderful. But, what does progress look like? It looks like making giant leaps forward - and then three steps back. It looks like dipping our toe in the water, and then wanting to dry off. It looks like it's perfect, but actually not. It looks like a broken toy fixed with expired super glue. Who are we to determine progression? It's an obsession of the mind for us to think that progress means we must always be fine - that we must be perfect. If I have a million irrational thoughts in a day, does that make my one totally rational thought insignificant? I think not. If I spend one day totally upbeat, productive, and happy - are my sad feelings any less valid? No. So, progress looks like this: admitting to yourself that sometimes we won't have things together completely. We acknowledge it, think rationally, and move to the next focus. Progress is not total immunization of our quirks, but it is less demonization for how we work. Our brains - they want to help us survive. The brain gets confused among irrational thoughts and can jump and put us in an emotional turmoil jeopardy. But, be kind to yourself. Be kind to the "miswires" in your brain - because it cares for you and wants you to survive. Strive. What does progress look like? I'm not sure if I can see mine - I'm not sure what it totally looks like. But, maybe, look in a mirror. See yourself - the reflection of desire. Aspire to be who you are, judgement free. In a sort of clarity, you can see. Ask yourself:
"What does progress look like?"
It looks a bit like you.

Tibetan Brimstone butterflies wave wings madly at their paradise valley
In the beginning, before the beginning, and in the beginning
Their shaken snow globe makes them flutter in wild exuberance
As they reveal a mountain, then no mountain, then Kunlun again
Peace, followed by chaos, and then by peace
Mother Luna's kaleidoscope of enlightenment
Protected by the hooded one
Holds all worlds and shakes the four seasons
Nothingness, creation, abiding, destruction
The wheel of time
Moves the wind as it’s blown by vast circles of water
Aqua marine is washed again by golden earth
And in the center, the great opal mountain song of La
Nature's peace
Beyond white leopard snows, icy winds, and empty husks of death
Butterflies are born again
Shambhala’s mindful beat opens passage for light through darkness
Poets squint and ride on wings toward the hidden sunset kingdom
Watching another world's Avalon alive beneath a blue moon
Insulated chrysalis of love for all seasons
A fisherman, a carpenter, a shepherd, a merchant, a caterpillar
Discover a lush, isolated, peach grove
Nosing thickly scented nectar and purple primrose honey
In the jade valley of the kings, queens, and beggars
They meditate under the Bodhi Tree
Deep brown ****** lines are carved into their soft olive skin
Smooth hands are made rough, and then smooth again
Young, then old, and then young once more
Wisdom setting beside Queen Spirit Mother of the West
Sharing a bowl of her rice milk in harmony
Being in the realm between man and nature as Kalachakra turns
For six years the caterpillar eats of fig
And then the wheel breaks for flight one last time
Radiating light as she sheds her glorious wings
Here, the snow globe explodes flying petals of wild exuberance
Revealing a mountain, then no mountain, then Kunlun again
Transcending all, turning tears into the suns joyful rays
As they rise, then set, and then rise again
Nirvana
Beyond our Lost Horizon


© 2019 MJL

I just sat on the ******* bathroom floor
For 15 minutes
Listening to my breath faintly wheeze
Through the last cilia in my lung

I felt my chest rise and fall
Shallow

I take notice of the cold-*** tile
And the ache in my back
How my right bicep is throbbing
From a dogbite last night
How my knees ache from years of fighting
And my head pounds like a church bell
From lack of drugs and nicotine

If happiness is the cessation of all desire
Then please Buddha convince me
That my desire to walk the **** out of here
Is more insane than sitting on the ******* floor
Doing nothing.

Thoughts are merely pebbles
Being gently washed by a passing stream.

You are the stream.

Thoughts are merely pebbles on a beach
Being gently rounded by crashing waves.

You are the waves.

Thoughts are merely pebbles in the sand.
Being gently worn away by the passing wind.

You are the wind
My words escape on.

Words are merely thoughts
Being gently read by a passing eye.

Yours are the eyes
That can read my thoughts.

I can't see the future
I can't change the past

For once,
I pause
and breathe
and laugh

Because in this moment
I am
So, so
Alive

Despite all you meant to me
We were just not meant to be;
My priority was you
But I was not yours I knew...

I gave it my all
That’s what you said to do
You said one hundred and ten percent
So I did it for you

That was fine
I was alright
Until someone else said those same words
Again, again, again

I thought I could handle it
At first
But slowly I drained myself
Like a battery

You gave me handshakes and high-fives
Awards and degrees
Certifying my excellence
Molding my existence

I pushed myself
I met my deadlines
I did what you said
I did what all of you said

After a time
All of me was poured out
Scattered
Empty

Everything I had held
Fell broken and scattered
And frantically I tried to rebuild it
From what was left

My hands shake as I try
To put the pieces back in order
A desire, a compulsion
To control my storm

Anything
Everything
Hold it together
Hold something together

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t
Echoes in my mind
As thoughts spin and whirl
A tornado of expectations

I should…
But I can’t…
Well of course not
You’ve been drained for years

“Shoulds” and “oughts”
The poison in my thoughts
I just wanted to do what you said
To show you I had listened

I always had something to prove
I still do
But now it’s not about you
It’s about me

Now, I excel when I can
When I want to
If I don’t,
It was my choice

I don’t care what you think.
I value your opinion
But now I also value my own
I know my limits

There is so much me to explore
I can’t believe I let you drive so long
I missed out on me
And so did you

So when you say to give it my all,
I might
I might not
That’s my choice

I know how much of me I have to give
Only I can portion my time
You don’t know everything
I am strong, and I have limits

I have the power to say, “no”
When you ask to take from me
But I also can say, “yes” graciously
Knowing that I don’t need it

See, that’s what’s changed
I know what I need
I don’t rely on your knowing better
Because I can decide for myself

Rather than giving everything my all,
I give it my best
Knowing that I need to save some for myself
A bit of extra bandwidth in reserve

This way, you don’t own me
But I can offer myself to you
I can still give with grace
But I can withhold with wisdom

I give it my best

Imagine you are drifting through nothingness
You see all yet nothing
Something draws to you

Sit up straighter
Hands on your knees (as you read this)
You feel your greater purpose

You are rooted in the universe as a dark dark orb
Patrolling the stark existence

Things are drawn into you as you become more round,
Yet more massive

Do you spin?
Do you spew your excess matter?
Do you lay dormant--
Only picking up what you run into?
What runs into you?

Feel yourself flow through space, time, the universe
Feel yourself defy the laws of nature and bend all that is
Feel your soul mend itself
Through all the places you've been
Construct
Deconstruct
Reconstruct again
You are a black hole
Swallowing up all that dares cross your horizon
You are both nothing, and the very existence of
Everything
All things orbit around you
Yet
You orbit around the universe
Nothing can stop you