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are out there.


buddhism ? # =
poets ? # =


02 Jun 2002 / 3:52 p.m.
.:  smoke out, light in

tyler talked to me the other night about winter here in portland. sometime in october, the skies darken and the night gets long, and water comes down for nearly eight months. he told me this like he was talking about an old war; there was dread in his voice. then he told me about the summer: for four months the skies are clear and the sun hangs over the city in an arc of long hours. when he told me this he was saying a mantra.

i am thinking about love a lot these days. once, i decided that i wasn't able to love anyone. i wasn't good at it, and it caused pain. separation from love is hell - literally, if you perform a few semantic acrobatics. this is the pain of attachment, and conditional love.

conditional love is predicated on expectations. expectations are predicated on the future.

the future cannot touch us, because it isn't real.

the only forever-love is the one free of the future.

Kristin, that's how I know it's love. That's how I can say it. Because now is all I need with you.

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