Some Thing In The Air

Tonight wraps up one thing, retains another, and still is always beginning.
Remaining.
Tonight is a celebration, a reflection, and an inspiration.
Growing.
Tonight under a full moon fever, I appreciated the center of all life.

Seemingly disparate day-to-day assignments, those which arrive and flow like fallen leaves on a river, can completely dam one's progress. Perceptions can get clogged and warped, stifling the current of greatness that is being. So it was as I looked up into the crisp last night of February 2010, only to see the eye of passion beaming down back into me. Low gray cruising clouds in a mindless flight massed by between us. I could feel the night in a split-second-sight. The family dog I was asked to watch outside was now only a moment under a larger abounding truth. A chore to be cherished. I could feel the air as in a dream, or a vivid childhood recollection of reality surrounding. And above all this, all I felt was a thought, a seed, which has only grown into a feeling now as I type! And using that growth, building that boat, upon that same river, I can now 'know-row' past the leaves and see the forest for the trees......there are also flowers and moon beams, and it's only ever what you think it seems. Yes, someone I care for has a birthday today, the one I love is with her. If this passage is a flower, the one I love is the stem carrying and supporting all that is traveling to beauty. A birthday, even another's, is a new trip to an old dimension in and of itself; a new peddle to bask in the glory of age. These people keep each other, their Blood's pair is parallel. Yes, people I care for unspeakably are, right now, smiling and filing their concerns for another day.

This particular night also happens to be the end of the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver, BC, Canada. A coming together of what we humans know to be the largest spanning soiree in what we acknowledge to be life everywhere. Celebrities, aspiring amateur athletes and volunteers run a muck, intertwining to weave a web to catch the hearts and sew the souls of the nations of the world, to be one. Athletes combine their particular understanding of the Self, uniting in arms across borders, across rivers and oceans, and through the window of realization. They see themselves in each others' struggles and smiles. Although "the medium is the message", how is it that I should ignore what stirs in me, after I've left the television set to catch a wink from a wiser eye? Yes, the Olympics used to seem like a dream to me, but now it is such in another light. Patriotism, an act I never used, is now one of which I feel capable. My Blood runs deep, the Moon shines high, and there's some Thing in the air.

Even Suburbia seems sensuous. And, even now, I wonder what I'll stumble upon next.