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Sunday
Oct212018

while you aspire

Slow down. Pause. Breathe. That's my elixir to combat the feeling “Life's passed me by. It's too late to fulfill my destiny. Blues." Because I am my own enemy, I had to be taught how to save my own life. Now I practice filling my belly up with breath, have it expand, then flatten, every day. Calling this process "connective breathing,” since it brings me inside of myself. Resulting in an increase in joy, clarity of thought and intention. If hope's the accurate barometer. I seem to be floating on air; all due to my breath.

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Tuesday
Jun192018

Breath: The Only Requirement

I wake up pondering. Doing it for months. Reminding myself I'm going to die. It's positively unrelenting. Starting right after a young man on the subway calls me elderly, while chastising everyone else in the car for not offering me their seat. When I’m of the mind, I’m doing fine. Getting out of bed on my own. Working around being trapped inside my birth-date. Of which there’s no getting out. That makes me mad. I'm still breathing. And since breath means life;count me in.

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Sunday
Apr082018

Your Future's Truth

It’s amazing. Once you understand yourself. You revel in the fact you are you. Stepping out like a new born from inside your head. Free at last to join the human race. You pay your forty dollars and go right ahead and apply to the New York International Fringe Festival. Sending them your sixty-minute solo show script, “A Coffin Turning Clockwise: A Comedy in Real Time.” Where you mine your eccentricities and have performed it twice. Without dropping dead. Proof; you're your future's truth.

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Monday
Mar052018

a dose of self reliance 

Standing on my own two feet takes me decades. Arriving. In form proof positive. In my dotage. While I'm still breathing. October 31, 2017. Inside the Madrid Airport. At 6:30 in the morning. The second person on the Value Added Tax line. Waiting for my 26-dollar refund. From purchasing one orange and one green sweater. When a mix of twelve Chinese men and women. All carrying Gucci, Prada and Chanel shopping bags. Cut in front of me. Without saying a word. Put down their packages. Take out their receipts. Chat in their native tongue. To the woman whose back is in front of me.

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Friday
Feb022018

transmitting hope(part four; el fin)

I consider myself a three- dimensional character. I’ve the attributes. Height. Width. Depth. And being of a certain age, I’ve a personal story. A history with failings, contradictions, ambivalence, values, flaws. Yet in Spain. I'm two-dimensional. Exhibiting simplicity. As a beginner. Learning Spanish. I show frustration. As the extent of my emotional life. I’m a bore. And it’s Saturday. Following the Friday. That ends the first week of school. Forty of us. All Spanish language students. From all over the world. Are boarding a motor coach. On our way to Segovia and Avila. It’s 8 AM.

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