true

there's a lot going on

tell me what we're holding on to

tell me it's wrong...

but have they spent some time

thinking about it?

what if they are all wrong?

what if no one's that strong?

and it's quite alright to be

yourself--

ok to live life

free, happy

what if love is the greatest thing

but without so many rules?

who defined the rules?

you say it's God, but tell me the truth

Half As Much

Half as much
what it is, what we think it is
Living on assumptions
Hoping for redemptions
Trying to reconcile
what we think we know
with all we simply don't.

Someone should have told me long before
to check my fear and hope at the door
the weight of Love only One bore
and other feelings we should ignore

Half way house
on my way there,
still far from destination.
Traveling my own routes
Treading my own two boots
Try to reconcile
where we think we'll go
with all our baggage in tow

The Questions We Ask

The questions we come up with
asked time and time again
redefined by respondent,
shaped by experience,
slanted by perspective,
accepted, rejected, refused--she pleas the fifth.
Restated, pondered, addressed with the utmost care.

We ask them, like a knock on the door
of enlightment and truth.
And while answers may change, they
can provide a snapshot of someone's
understanding and thought.

And we ask them of each other
as an expression of the values
we place on what that person thinks,
and ultimately, means to us.

Merci, Paris

Here, a little story of romantic adventure

I've fallen into heart space

the look of her lovely face

Paris, you glow

winking your flirtation

smiling your style.

In your garden I breathed air of joyeux

in your alleys I felt l'esprit du vieille ville

You're black and white with cherry lipstick

You're secret whispers in lover's ears

You are that beauty who knows she's being watched,

adored, desired

who never turns her head.

I sit up on the third floor looking out and down

the sea of arrondissements, slow moving pedestrians,

and chaotic roundabouts.

The spirit of a non-defeatest, adamant to her passions,

sultry in her affairs,

living for freedom of soul and human expression.

I want her--to be part of her

to have her blanket me in her love and liberty.

My Bed Bug Afternoon

Pile it on

loads of laundry

purging of infest furniture

itching of swollen little bites

Season is ending, season is starting

housewarming, homecoming

urban hiking, beach combing

Affirmations are unnecessary

Save your little pills for those in need

Though I miss my City and my Lebanon

I am grateful for my home sweet home

Follow me into the adventure of all the things

that I might

And don't worry if the bed bugs bite

High Tower

You watched the ground break

Steel shard upward to the sky

Giving shape, creating form

Intellectual design

and environmentally sound

An art piece to the community surround

Of what can rise up of dust

Of what we can and what we must

You said the words to make it happen

You gave it vision, and breathed its life

You gave it all you got

But all at what cost

In all that you build

One sight you lost

And now beguiled with guilt

You could build your High Tower

but you never managed to build a meaningful connection

You had yourself, but you neglected the Power

She lead her life within herself

While you celebrated the success of your wealth

Drawn lines

Something will set it apart

You'll recognize it in the moment

it will speak through your heart

but I'm weak now, from sloth and lack of pursuit

waiting for a sound, but the echo is mute

Something's supposed to take hold of me

but the hold is ill-repute

Let's take up to the rooftop and watch for shoot signs

and let the sun fall down and the night unwind

in silence so much is spoken

so much revealed

i recognized it in that moment

and in that moment i was healed

In Boston

You need that time away from your routine.
You need it to see that there's more, and that sometime you get caught up in what is so much less.
The fall here has been a warm blanket for my creativity.
I feel as though the plaques blocking my thinking are loosening, that the straight lines of my routines are now running in wiry veins in random directions of abstract order.
I am composing the internal letter to myself of who I want to be, who I choose to be, and who I will ultimately decided to direct myself to be.
I continue to know that I need much guidance and that there is Someone directing this, and in that I am so comforted and blessed.
In the wave of down-turning season, I find myself freeing myself from old skins and revitalizing new ways of being.
My heart beats contentedly, and I feel a confirmed soundness in my being.
There is much ahead in transition, but alas I do not sense any anxiety or fear. Only trust.
I will swim in this day, and bathe in its kindness and good offering.
I will smile and adorn all passer-bys with a greeting of awakening, of love for their unknown story, for the treasure that they possess that they may not be so focused upon.
I will find my treasure under the tree of the place I once slept;
for life is the journey of leaving home to find...
home.

moderate
a climate heading in dangerous stormy directions
step the wind out of those sails
reel them in quickly
and relax

in this color of day
i sit upon the grass
contemplate
a cool breeze soothes things away
and the uncertainties fade

it all amounts to little more
than piles of problems that play out more in my head
then they need to
it all starts with a smile
and i trade weights for wind instead
because i need to
because it becomes me
and the day is much more than it could have ever been

Buena Vista

yesterday was a breath of fresh fall air for me
a city's dusk and living steps
and you play well on playgrounds
despite hitting me with your shoelaces
i am quite content taking in autumn places
and filling in the warmth of spaces
yesterday was play and rest
and one of the best
days i've spent in a while

Forgiveness Relinquishes Hurt

That this 'wasn't what you expected,'
that line still rings in my mind
trying to figure out what you had expected
I can't even conjecture

That I still love you...
but because of how things turned out
it can't be for me to stay connected.
That I wish I could, but it would just mean
that what happened never, or still doesn't bother me,
but it just does. I wish it didn't, but it just does.

It hurts to be a part of you, so even though
I want to be a part, it's best not to be.
That the friendship ring, continuous and eternal
cannot be broken, but its radius from the intimacy
of its midpoint is increased. And though love never
fails, the closeness is no longer there.

God must still love "the devil." The devil has merely
distanced himself from God by pride. Forgiveness
could bring them close again, but pride keeps one from
admitting fault, from repenting, from confessing,
from seeking forgiveness.
Pride is selfishness, self-protection, fear of hurt,
and yields distance, yields callousness and anger
and defensiveness--even offensive attack.

The truth is that everyone can hurt--a blinding hurt--
but one must hold sight that hurt can only be
reconciled through the process of forgiveness.

A day

August 10, 2006

I couldn't sleep last night. the late night to early morning partiers made a Tuesday pale in comparison to my Fridays. I awoke at 5:30 a.m. thinking it was Lexington Club, but realized it was the noisy girls next door taking no heed of the cacophonous laughter and seemingly drunk need to roar out each next desperately important statement they had to make.

I left at 8:45 a.m. having drowned in the last few hours of precious sleep. The day was of gold uncommon for such early hour. I was momentarily transported back to the days of Barcelona, to a time when no schedule was needed and the activity was determined by the shade of day and mood. But I came to knowing this was not a day of play, and that serious work awaited at USF.

We dined at Alison's and mostly I enjoyed speaking with her mother. She playfully delighted in jesting with her husband.

I caught myself wishing to create the opportunity to better know Janice, too. But I did not want to force the opportunity, only to heed the ones that came of naturally. We did speak and I shared my intent to invite her to things. She mentioned she'd take me to San Quentin and offered me her take on the maladies of the prison system. I'm not much of one for jails, but I'd go and it would be something new and of interest.

Tomorrow, we train our new Ambassadors. I wrote out each of their names for an activity today, and the thought came to me that new relationships were on the horizon.

I am not tired but really need to rest for the upcoming day.

mid day/night chats

Session Start (samsoloman2000@msn.com:UG): Thu Oct 05 00:15:05 2006
[00:15] UG: Hi Sam, u there?
[00:15] sam: hi
[00:15] sam: i'm here
[00:22] UG: how're you?
[00:26] sam: i'm smiling, feeling blessed, filled with good grace and sleepless
[00:26] sam: :)
[00:26] sam: how are you
[00:26] sam: ??
[00:27] UG: glad to hear you're doing great !!
[00:27] UG: i'm fine, too
[00:27] UG: are u still in SD ?
[00:28] sam: no i left san diego... it was a nice place, but not for me
[00:29] sam: where are you these days?
[00:29] sam: CH?
[00:29] sam: FR?
[00:32] UG: i have one leg in each country ;)
[00:32] UG: so where are you now ??
[00:33] UG: i'm still working in Geneva (as a permanent employee at Reuters) but i don't think i'll stay in Geneva very long... it's a bit dull
[00:34] sam: yeah, i've heard Geneva isn't the liveliest of places... where will you move to? back to paris?
[00:35] sam: I moved to san francisco... little, old victorian home in the Mission district
[00:40] UG: that sounds great!! and what do you do ?
[00:41] UG: no, i don't think i'll move to paris. i want to move abroad again, who knows where....
[00:41] sam: student programs and events
[00:41] UG: at Berkeley?
[00:41] sam: university of san francisco
[00:41] sam: i've gone private, oh my!
[00:41] UG: ok ;)
[00:41] sam: hanging out with all the rebellious catholic kids
[00:42] UG: oh my god, i hope you lock your door at night
[00:42] UG: i miss california...
[00:42] sam: no... i leave a trail of wine bottles leading all the way to my door
[00:43] sam: california is always missed by someone
[00:43] sam: just like spain and paris
[00:44] sam: just like the green grass that's always on the other side, and the magical moments in life you can't plan or replicate
[00:44] UG: i wouldn't have said better
[00:45] UG: i just miss living in a real city
[00:45] sam: missing creates longing, longing developes into initiative... and the next thing is you don't miss anymore because you've stretched your arm to touch it
[00:45] UG: california has that balance between urban life and country
[00:45] sam: it makes me feel human...
[00:45] UG: that's always my problem, i always want to be somewhere else
[00:45] sam: alive... breathing
[00:46] UG: i'm really happy for you!
[00:46] sam: and you will always continue to do so... such is your fate
[00:46] UG: i dont know, i hope at some point i'll just be happy to be where i am, even for a short time
[00:47] UG: brb
[00:47] sam: we never really know what it is we want, and what we want is rarely what truely best suits us... so we are constantly searching
[00:47] sam: prodding under stones and in books for answers, clues... constantly packing bags to search it out in some unknown city's cafe in some international airport
[00:48] sam: brb
[00:48] sam: brb too... in the morning... i need tonight's dream
[00:48] sam: bon soir
Session Close (UG): Thu Oct 05 00:48:30 2006

Vaccum being

one single light
to keep the street awake
one pale sodium light
to filter into my space
and keep me awake

countless little drops
from tonight's rain
countless little thoughts
that repeat again and again

she writes
and she calls
he bites
and he stalls

countless little drops
clinging to life on the power wires
of electrical poles
countless little hopes
singing, he aspires
to play that little role

one single chance
to feel complete
one stretched out night
to watch them sleep

A day has passed
and I've seen much
and been much touched by the dedication
of those hoping to make a better space for all of us

I find myself saying 'hello' to every passerby
and being greeted back with warm 'good morn,'
a smile, or even if by bewildered look, I'm still left with a smile

I shared a piece of myself, oh one who spares
the nuances that make me tick
And not just pleasantries, but spits of who I aim
to be and have become
Yet among the lightly rustling leaves, on sunny streets,
in a city that so happily hugs me, swimmingly
she seeps into my mind
just for the fact of her proximity,
like she is closer to the forefront of my conscious state
and it knees me dully, head butts me wakingly
until I squash it out as negative fantasy voodoo,
silly sorcery that is made
only by me
and not the siren of fate and mystery
then I resume my walk and smile uncertainly

Still

I'm here
ever present
combustibly incarnate in this moment
so thick i am that time struggles to pass me
such a viscous time, it does seem to stand
and i enveloped by it.

It is lovely
this increment
of barely moving others
whispering their momentous accomplishment
or perhaps their lackings
of honey-flow low clouds southwardly drawing
of evening music that draws a moment to myself
when nothing can be taken for granted
when having come to terms with how things are
everything is warranted, when those thing
I cannot accept to stand for I have faith will come to change
in this moment - all is taking place
and i breathe, just breathe

Anonimity

Anonimity.
I care to not know me
I'd like to banish him
send him away
poor kid of such depravity
I'd like him to wander backward
step into time and ask for Father
to stop the cycle and request such wonder
I'll yell him to the end of his days
and demand his plunder
unless he can rightly justify the
demand and restraints of his everyday rigors
why did you put yourself through such hell
all in the name of uncertainty?
what show do you make of all
those furious internal debates and
esoteric quandaries?
What futility shit have you sunken
yourself into now?

Dissolve me into this boiling
madness of grudger
my eyes sting for lacking strength to tear
my soul languishes, its embers touching
faint whispers of air and redden in final
moments
Between cello notes, floating hopes, cigarette perfume,
and the din of conversation that can't be
extrapolated from an overall buzz
I swallow whole my warmth
and the icy reside is melted through tiny quivers
of my flesh.
The motorbike revs and starts up my spine.
Mine eye, close thee and let
the shiver take hold and heal.

Authoring

My friend, Simon, came to visit yesterday and we got to talking about how we are the authors of our own life stories. That final autobiography is being written chapter by chapter each day that we live. I think therein came another reminder that in as much as there are things beyond our control, there are myriad ways inwhich we impact what transpires within our life. If I wish to see a chapter in my book about a particular life experience, adventure or opportunity then what steps am I really taking to write that chapter?

April Showers

Night time is wonderful. There's clarity in the sanctuary of its stillness. I appreciate a night like this, upon which the rain sets a tempo without any rhythm I can acknowledge. It is peaceful and beautiful, and the darkness is only interrupted by the few city lights that remind one of how afraid man can be of the unavoidable dark.

Today was a day of much gratitude. It began with an early start in a sun-filled morning. The day granted its first success in the reconciliation it offered me with a colleague. It continued in the the joys, and not the dredgery of work. And it concluded with nature's rain-making, lazy contemplation and a glass of scotch.

I finished the film "Magnolia" this evening. It was nothing like I would have imagined the film to be from the descriptions offered me by my friends. But I enjoyed it extremely, nonetheless. The movie seemed to dwell on the subject of intrinsic character flaws, and shared them through a not-so-coincidental connectivity of wholly unrelated individuals of troubling, unique lives. I came away with the thought that the essense of being is accepting oneself and others; and that God has a way of making that happen, if even by bold interventions such as raining frogs (I'm sure there's symbolism in this freak occurance of which I've not yet beome aware).

Night is beautiful. And, alas, so is sleep.

Opening statements

As this changing world continues to (r)evolve... I find my identity spilling out on to the vast ocean of the web. It's strange to express oneself to a matrix--outside the realm of real human interaction. It seems a wonder that it will even be found, like someone intentionally placing needles in a haystack.

The 'net' has its redeeming characteristics. I have found myself better connected to those I've met, and I'm thankful for that. So, today I put forth my first step toward sharing my random thoughts out onto the invisibile electronic universe. What may come, may come.

(thanks Kim Y. for the inspiration... I read one of your blog entries today, which made me think to start my own).