The History of Feeling


I found, under a star
and the moon’s steadfast gaze,
not only the life I am living,
but all around me, under a rock,
on the far, ghosted end of the forest,
the many lives I’ve lived,
strung like vines
jumbled and obtuse,
hanging like a pearl of leaves
in the midnight dew.
Like flowers peppering a field,
like moss, velvety and complete,
the past in the guise of now,
convinces me utterly
of permeability, shadow in light,
of the density in the history
of what I feel.
The power of the story lives here.
Give me a moment and I’ll find
a reason, a cause, an association
where instead there might be
you, I, things in themselves,
beyond our wildest imaginings,
divested of our hope and fear,
containing everything we need,
containing nothing.
– tt

Thank you for being here.


I was just struck by such an intense feeling, that I am nothing in isolation; I can only be here in this exact way because of everyone I know and have known, who have all contributed and continue to contribute in such profound ways to this crazy and beautiful unfolding life. Thank you all so much for your incredible, indelible and kind presence!

Please share if you would like to spread the gratitude around!

There is a Treasure


There is a treasure
long and deep,
the way obscure,
and we are pushing past
a hundred different obstacles
webby, spindly things
scratching our faces,
and it is all we can do
to keep from crying out,
and we are tripping over
exposed roots and mossy stone,
slamming against rough surfaces
that don’t hesitate to take our weight,
and the heart pounds,
and we wish we were anywhere else.
But the treasure!
Eyes in a far off place,
maybe a clearing in the path,
maybe another place,
maybe tomorrow’s tomorrow.
The forest, then,
is no longer a forest
with its endless shades of green,
and sounds from ancient times,
from all the times and all creation.
Each tree is not a tree,
that pillar of wisdom,
joining heart to heart, root to root,
with the entire ground beneath us,
with the foot that touches down.
And what is the forest?
And who am I
in its thickets and dreams?