Gotta leave it all behind? Really? But I got so much stuff!!! ;)

One of my favorite U2 songs is 'Walk On', but I don't think I've really understood it's lyrics until recently...

"And love is not the easy thing...
The only baggage you can bring
Is all that you can't leave behind"

The baggage is the best and the worst of you, the perfectly imperfect soul that makes you who you are...

"Leave it behind
You've got to leave it behind
All that you fashion
All that you make
All that you build
All that you break
All that you measure
All that you steal
All this you can leave behind
All that you reason
All that you sense
All that you speak
All you dress up
All that you scheme..."

These are the things that reside within you, but shouldn't be carried like luggage from doorway to doorway, if you ever hope to be free of the things that have held you down. These are the calculated, pathological, and ultimately self-defeating patterns of thought which prevent us from just 'feeling' instead of explaining, justifying... They are the things that exist everywhere else but in the moment.

Register, Reflect, Release. Leave all that bullshit behind.

I love U2. Their words inspire me to seek awareness and harmony with everything around me, without ever settling for oblivion as a means for escape...

"Home... hard to know what it is if you've never had one
Home... I can't say where it is but I know I'm going home
That's where the hurt is"

Home is never easy, especially if you were born with a gypsy heart! Home can be messy, home can be crowded... Home makes you think about what is important, because it's always in your face... But without home, whatever that may mean to you, there is only life as a refugee...

Eventually, we all seek 'home' and establish it wherever, and with whomever, we can. In the meantime, taking time to get to know your particular corner of the wilderness, and not settling for anyone else's answers, is the best way to go *For Me!

*my disclaimer!

My boy the poet!

 I came across this poem written by my son Ian when he was in grammar school. I don't know how old he was, but he must have been pretty young judging by the kitty cat and smiley faces. Out of the mouths of babes... I could learn a thing or two from him!

This is a poem by the great Colombian poet Eduardo Carranza. It's near and dear to my heart, but I hope the day will come when it's no longer relevant in my life. It's one of my favorite poems ever, and I thank the mad Honduran for giving it to me...


DOMINGO
Un domingo sin ti, de ti perdido,
es como un túnel de paredes grises
donde voy alumbrado por tu nombre;
es una noche clara sin saberlo
o un lunes disfrazado de domingo;
es como un día azul sin tu permiso.

Llueve en este poema; tú lo sientes
con tu alma vecina del cristal;
llueve tu ausencia como un agua triste
y azul sobre mi frente desterrada.
 
He comprendido cómo una palabra
pequeña, igual a un alfiler de luna
o un leve corazón de mariposa,
alzar puede murallas infinitas,
matar una mañana de repente,
evaporar azules y jardines,
tronchar un día como si fuera un lirio,
volver granos de sal a los luceros.
 
He comprendido cómo una palabra
de la materia azul de las espadas
y con aguda vocación de espina,
puede estar en la luz como una herida
que nos duele en el centro de la vida.

Llueve en este poema, y el domingo
gira como un lejano carrusel;
tan cerca estás de mí que no te veo,
hecha de mis palabras y mi sueño.
 
Yo pienso en ti detrás de la distancia,
con tu voz que me inventa los domingos
y la sonrisa como un vago pétalo
cayendo de tu rostro sobre mi alma.
 
Con su hoja volando hacia la noche,
rayado de llovizna y desencanto,
este domingo sin tu visto bueno
llega como una carta equivocada.
 
La tarde, niña, tiene esa tristeza
del aire donde hubo antes una rosa;
yo estoy aquí rodeado de tu ausencia
hecho de amor y solo como un hombre.