Its easy to say we’ve been bitten by the travel bug.  It’s not so easy to explain why.

Maybe it’s an escape from our own reality. A promise from this world that there’s both immense beauty and incomprehensible heartbreak . Some call it yin and yang. It’s this balancing act of the entire planet that convinces us things actually work together, especially when our world seems to slowly be ripping apart.

So, maybe that’s why we leave it. We pack a few pairs of zip off pants and leave everything we have known in search. In search for this balance of life. And it is in this search for something bigger, that we take what we have found and bring it back home. We bring home new friends, a new family, and a new way to see the world.

Maybe it’s just a fresh perspective, but maybe it is so much more.

The December winds are taking hold now
leaves come back again in spring
Cause maybe, I just never told you
lately I can’t feel a thing

We lived by the river in the summer
flew our kites down one lane streets
And just like every road less travelled
Oh, I guess some path’s just don’t meet

Cause every time I saw you, we were reckless
Shivering and shaking on our toes
And just like every winding corner
I didn’t know how far the journey goes.
far it goes ah ohhh
but I don’t want to know

Who will take you home?
Who’ll take you home?
Who’ll take you home
Oh, Once I let you go

Now  you’re on someone else’s shoulders
The winter skies are darker on my own
Maybe, we will meet when we get older
Maybe we won’t

Well, daylight passed
and the dark surrounds
And I was feelin' like a child
when I disappeared down  

into the rabbit’s hole
who will go here unnamed
I was looking for something peculiar
A tea party for the verifiably insane

I’ll begin at the beginning
Dreaming as the days go by
and when the world comes to an end
In Wonderland I lie
In Wonderland I lie

………...........................

On that dewey may morning
as I was watching roses painted red
The  Queen of Hearts yelled
with force, off with their heads

Well if all is fair in love and war
then I don't know what we are fighting for
So, I’ll begin at the beginning
Dreaming as the days go by
and when the world comes to an end
In Wonderland I lie
In Wonderland I lie

Nighttime passes
and the lightness shines
unapologetically slow
held prisoner by the sands of time

I came out the rabbit hole
to a world left unchanged
I was looking for something familiar
a fallacy the same  

Well if all is fair in love and war
then I don't know what we are fighting for

So, I’ll begin at the beginning
Dreaming as the days go by
and when the world comes to an end
In Wonderland I lie
In Wonderland I lie

I see the best minds of my generation,
destroyed by unrequited admiration.

All my friends have turned green.
The worst case of madness that I have ever seen.

With a hollow eye, iridescent glow
of infinite expendable information.

There are many things that humans touch,
in the sea, in the sky, and the land.
There are many things that humans touch,
and build, and travel in, and stand.

The neon lights shine proud through the darkness.
The planes fly high, distant sound.  
The freeway buzz keeping humans moving on,
Lives revolve on borrowed ground.

There, through the crack in the steel grey cement,
A dandylion delicately stands.
It flourishes with a gentle force,
that is stronger than anything touched by man.

There are many things that humans touch,
in the sea, in the sky, and the land.
The one thing that no human can touch,
is mother nature’s hand.

Tired hands, green eyes
Breathing out, white lies
Soft lips, blue skies

Small room, big world
Lines straight, sight blurred
Same love, new girl

And she'll say
He's stuck in a daydream
Been in love since 18
Allibys breaking the seams

But he'll say
She's beautiful blankly
Burning down gently
Till she screams.

There’s something about the harmonica that gets me every time.

Maybe, it’s the simplicity.
Maybe, it’s the rhythm and blurred notes that form a hazy melody.
Maybe, it’s the whistling of inherent sadness.

But for me, it touches something deeper.
Some intrinsic instinct that connects music to our souls.

To me, the harmonica is a promise.

A promise that anybody can learn something new and can make a little dent of a sound in this big universe.

A promise that there is a whole world out there to see. Small hands, big hands, blue or wrinkled hands can play the harmonica.

No matter where you are in your journey, the harmonica will always sound inescapably like a harmonica.

Maybe that shiny, metal box is just the kind of pocket-sized assurance I need.

5 o' clock on a Tuesday,
73 and sunny once again.
The 10's crawl is killing the patrons,
who fight for a glimpse of the end.

The blur of insanity,
reduced to a sigh.
A hundred years of living
keeps  passing you by.

It all goes bye.

But I’ll stay.
And I’ll fight,
for the beauty and magic,
to reach for the sky.
And I’ll stay.
And I’ll fight,
the demons and angels
That keep me alive tonight.

I think it’s human nature to spend a whole life wanting something. Searching, looking, working for something more.
We spend 10 hours a day half haphazardly bent over the iridescent glow of a computer gazing into a pool of knowledge beyond our wildest dreams.

Looking, searching, working towards something greater. Right now is never enough.

There’s problems to be solved, stories to be told, and bills to be paid.

As I stare into the darkness, a single light barely illuminates a circle of smiling faces. Staring, waiting, hoping out of the kindness of their hearts, that I get exactly what I wish for.
As I squeeze my eyes shut, an overwhelming loud and enchantingly out of tune melody escapes from the guests mouths as I blow out the candles.

And in that fraction of a second, I feel like a fraud. I feel quite guilty. Because as tradition goes, there must be a wish.

But I have none.

In that moment, I realize everything I’ve ever wanted is standing right there in front of me.

And when you realize you have everything you’ve ever wished for, what happens next?

The night comes alive, the look in your eyes
like poison disguised as wine.

Fire runs through my veins
Like fools gold I'm memorized.

The sound of your voice slips down my throat,
your hands at the small of my back.

The room spins around again and again,
visions once light fade only to black.

Some people just have this hold on your heart and won’t let go.

Time, it doesn’t cure that. Sometimes the grip loosens, only to be unexpectedly and uncontrollably tightened again. And you learn to live with it, but it never gets any easier.

Sometimes the most simple things can be the hardest to overcome. It defies logic and reason and time.


I’ll forever be in love with you.

Through all of the uncertainty, insufferable agony , and betrayal, I’ll forever be in love with you. It’s that kind of love that reaches deep down. It’s in my body, my blood, and my bones. It is in my soul. There’s only a certain kind of love that can take you over, and as many times as I picked myself up, running faster, getting stronger, and bigger, I can’t out run you. But I can’t live with you.

I’m suspended between hoping for something that I will never have, and having something I’ve never hoped for.

I’m suspended between waiting for time to heal heartache, and knowing that heartache can’t outrun the time.

Unappeasably curious
Darkness drawing me in
The monsters hiding in stupor
Never knowing a victim
Who reaches towards horror
Who runs into the night
Who dresses in cobwebs
Never fearing the light.

I love tragedies.

Don’t get me wrong, I hate it when people get hurt. I hate devastation and sadness and I am a strong believer that life is too short to be anything but happy. But as much as we wish, hope, and believe for everything to turn out right, it won’t. It can’t. Life’s balancing act will bring you to your knees, and there is nothing you can do about it. Best friends get in car accienents, our most beloved pet is put to sleep, and the man in shining armor we think is our happily ever after turns out to be hiding a devastating secret.

But, I love these moments.

Because when they happen, it makes us take a minute out of our days. It makes us ignore the cell phone and cancel lunch meetings. Tragedies bring us closest to what is most important in our lives. Tragedies are the one thing that shows us what we value most in this world. And once you know what’s most important, nothing else matters.

In all these tragedies, from the seriousness of 9-11 to the annoyance of a broken ankle, we figure out that the darkness is important. The darkness can show us things that are hidden by the mask of the light.

Write a poem using these random words:
Zinc, blood, time, ants, grey, chrome, popsicle, doll

Here's what I came up with... your turn!
__________________­_

The nurse yells down the hall
ZINK! The patient’s monitor calls
And his blood runs white as the floor.
God where’s the time, because I need more.  

We’re all here for a reason they say
From the ants in the hill to elderly Mr. Grey
But I can’t see past the cold chrome walls
The popsicle sticks and the “get well” dolls

We’re all here for a reason I know
That nothing lasts forever, so I must go

I’m so tired off all the *******,
Floating happy riding rainbows.
A fleeting high that never lasts,
So you light up the world again tomorrow
Running from the future like your past.

Why are we pretending to like each other?
Why pretend to get along?
Fake smile form a peace treaty
that was signed on a shaking ground.

I just want to be honest
In a world that favors tricks and schemes.
I just want to find another human
That sees I’m really me.

We see what we want to see.
Hearts deceive to hide from pain.
Your illusions held up by mirrors
That shatters at the seams.

The crisp stagnant air hits my body as the glass doors effortlessly glide open to reveal one of the very many bare necessities of life. The Sunday morning’s warmth is quickly stolen by man made light reflecting off of perfectly shined, laminated flooring. A line of worn men and overworked mothers stand in an aggravating compliance as an apathetic clerk makes time stand still.

The mundane and ordinary occurrence of shopping at the grocery store clashes with the radiant stream of colors attempting to outshine their competition. Thousands of choices, but which one is the best? Some things are small and easy, others large and heavy. Some things boast about preserving life ,while others smile at the heart stopping taste of happiness.

The scary part is that these choices are completely in our own hands. Choices about our futures, our families, and our desires. Different hands grabbing different items, each converging here together on seemingly different paths of life. Forced to make these choices in this place, we are all equal.

Every CEO, underpaid nurse, and starving college student is forced to put aside personal agendas for a moment in time. To remember that we are human. To remember that no matter what happens outside of these doors, there is some thread of familiarity that binds us together, even as the world seems to be slowly ripping apart.

This grocery store suddenly seems like so much more than a crossed off line on a Sunday morning’s to do list.

Someone once told me not to be afraid of the dark. Dark, they said, was nothing more than the absence of photons.

So, I took a walk in the dark. And I found out that the dark is so much more than the absence of light.

The dark forces us to no longer look outward. It does not let us see beauty or terror. The dark does not let us feel the reassurance of the sun’s rays, to gaze at a pink sky slowly sinking over the horizon, or to be lost by the numerous magical wonders that surround us with each sunrise.

Without this sense of surrounding, without this sense of sight, I find myself searching for the light. I look up to the stars, the only form of true light that shines through the darkness. And I am forced to look up. I am forced to look beyond what I know into a world that has questions forever unanswered.


For once, I don’t try to explain. Because no one can explain the magic felt by looking up at the stars. Sure, science  tells us that they are burning ***** of gas millions of miles away that are cold, dark rocks by the time we see the light.

What the science can’t explain is why we are drawn to these rocks. For looking up at the stars somehow represents the vastness of the universe, the smallness of a single human, and the beauty found in a silent darkness.


And for just this moment, I have seen more in the darkness that I could ever see in the light.

In a big city far away, I can build fairies and dragons in the sand.

In the big city I paint with neon colors that shine with the light of a thousand angels.

In the big city I find a different person around every corner, and a different life around each seaside bend.

But when it all goes quiet, when it’s just me and a jeep and the land.
When I don’t have fairies or dragons or dreams that distract me, I’m left with an empty road that leads nowhere.
I always end up back on this road to nowhere
because nowhere leads me straight back to you.

Today I saw the stars.
At first, I saw the deep blue enormity of the sky that enveloped the world in a warm darkness. And then I saw the lights, some that shine with a dignified confidence, and others so shy that their presence is hardly known.
Today I saw the stars.
I squinted to see the seven sisters unmoving in their close devotion to one another, Orien’s belt, and the little dipper. Just like I have seen in hundreds of clear skies before.
But today, I saw the stars.
I stared up into the vastness of the universe, I stared into the promise that there are some things we can explain, and there is a lot more that we can’t. I stared into the sky and saw wonder. I felt all the normal things people feel when they really see the stars. I felt small. I felt beauty. I felt a confusing understanding that even one, small life, had its place in this big universe.  For all at once, I felt everything in the world, and nothing at all.
Today I saw the stars.

Time. It can be your biggest enemy, or your sweetest escape

It can be the very thing you are living for yet dying for at the same exact moment.

It helps you to remember at the same time working to forget.

It is  not the moving hands on the clock or the buzzing of your iPhone alarm in the early morning.
It’s a representation of where you stand in the vastness of life. A moment that can make it all or end it all. It’s how we choose to face these moments that define who we are. Are we going to stand up and fight, or let them pass by.

We’ve all heard the staying that time doesn’t stand still. It doesn’t wait till you are in place and ready, it goes on. Many of us see this as a curse. We don’t want to grow up, or move on, or move out. We don’t like not knowing and wondering who or what will be here tomorrow.

But maybe this is life’s greatest gift to us all, that it doesn’t stop. Because it forces us to try and chase the moments as they pass by. It forces us to live every day as something new.

Time.
There’s never enough.

So we can sit here and try to fight it or we can get up and wave as it passes by.
Either way in the blink of an eye, everything is gone.

I hurriedly pull my street dusted , golden brown Toyota into the middle of a gas station war zone. The kind that turns neighbors into enemies, fighting to gain the only valuable piece of real estate around – the gas tanks. The drivers collectively sport the exact same exhausted and frustrated grimaces. A rusty and dated “ Exon Mobile” sign stands tall and strong against the sundrenched sky. The day is coming to a close, and the sun seems hurried to set as if it is exhausted from the day’s labors and expectations that it must rise again tomorrow, just like the gas station’s patrons. This station, to most, is just another stop. Another errand that puts itself between you and the warmth of home. This station, is just another stop. Another errand at the end of an endless day. But to me, this place is full of promise. This is the one place on earth that gives us life. It gives us the chance to see the world and to explore uncharted grounds. This place brings us closer to adventure and myseries, to happiness, to heartbreak, to feeling. This is the fuel and the energy that is waiting to help you make it to the hospital at 4 am to see the birth of a child. This old and worn pitstop let’s us fall in love with the world, with what we can see, with eachother.
But there is this silver truck with tires too big and a man two sizes to small in the passenger seat. There is a prominent dent in the left side door that has remained unchanged, unhelped, in weeks. As this silver, dented piece of metal sits in the way between me and my pajamas, I have the chance to stop. Not to stop because I’ve finally got to where I’ve been trying to go. Not to stop to pay the McDonald’s cashier in shameful regret of another broken new year’s promise. But to really stop. For an unexpectedly and disappointingly long time. To stop with no expectations. To be forced to just stop. And to wait. And to look around.

Drive. What moves us foreword.
Our heart’s desire, what causes us to act for what we want most in this world. It’s never lost, not forever anyways.

It might be hiding, waiting to see if you’ll come looking.
It might be up so high that when you reach the top, you realize that it’s not there, it never was, and you come down.  
Maybe, it’s just shy.
Maybe, it’s in that annoying shadow that follows you but can never be caught.
But at the same time, a shadow never goes away – only seems to disappear when we turn around.

What is life without this search?

We were made to chase things. We have two legs and opposable thumbs that let’s me know so.
So why should our drive and our passion defy these rules.
Fun fact : They don’t.

Believing is seeing.
Or
Is seeing believing?

But, I don’t think there’s a difference.
I believe in the way the sun always chases the day, and I wake up every morning seeing that it’s still out there searching.  I wake up and fall asleep to that light pink sky skewed with a golden assurance that there is something out there.
There’s something bigger,.
Something so unexplainable that can only be heard
in the silence.


So, maybe, your drive has plainly gone missing. But, maybe, it’s gone so you can chase it.