(Boston Marathon bombings took place on April 15th 2013)

Looking over facebook posts, realizing there’s a deep sense of sadness amongst some of my friends, because of ongoing national and worldwide tragedies. Going to two funerals in one week kind of forces me to look for a reason to smile, for a sense of balance, though its perfectly alright to feel no need to smile (considering). I think society has forced us to respond in ways that create burdens on our psyche. Smiling, laughing, and breathing, help us to alleviate some of that burden. I hope that my friends can find a reason to smile, even if only briefly, if they want to.

And I,
wanna cry 
long past the timeframe they’ve told me is acceptable.
I wanna laugh 
until I’ve drowned out silence,
or until they tell me to grow up.
I won’t listen.

I wanna ask 
those questions,
the easy ones with answers like, 
“Because he thought no one loved him,” or 
“we’ll never have the answers.” 
And the tough ones, with answers like, 
“Because he thought no one loved him,” or 
“we’ll never have the answers.”

I don’t wanna know 
why and when people stopped listening, stopped caring.
And because no one ever thinks they need a hug,
I wanna hug 
everyone I meet.
That moment of letting go together, 
when we feel emotions dancing. 
And I’d rather dance
then grow up.

I want my heart to smile, 
in a room filled with unbearable darkness.
Adult eyes piercing me with curiosity, longing to be
in my shoes, once again. 
To grow up, in my shoes.

Because
I’m 2 years young, 
5 years old. 
I’m that kid you once knew.
I am hope. 
Love is what fills the softness 
throughout my bones.
There are no options
for anything less.
I am what I want to be,
when I grow up.

To sit and think and write of the agony and despair of being tortured by endless supplies of surrounding loss - is to wallow in our weeping. To place grief on a pedestal, and press pause. Our tears slowly turn to clay, sculpting endless supplies of surrounding…words. Our frowns struggle to lift us to places forgotten, to avoid falling into the still of life’s estranged but necessary other half. When it’s not planes, trains or hugs that gets us there, it’s the pen. Retreating to now, the moment that leads the way to those forests -where all sides of trees are veiled in rusted moss- those cold and heavy forests, where we begin to connect with nature, and rustle through a sense of being nurtured. We’re forced to embrace void and fear, our long-lost siblings. Soon we’ll say goodbye to our Winter in Spring, knowing that as long as there is life, it will come again. And Summer will come to burn the shade off the trees. But for now, we weep. Wallowing in the moment, until we can put the pen down and allow the clay to become dust.

I was gonna write about how today marks the anniversary of meeting an angel. An angel who - while disguised as human -came into my life like a tornado, bringing heaven and the stars with him, only to as quickly -as the just fed happy hummingbird- fly away, leaving a necessary, and wonderful, lasting impression. But…we’ve all heard that love and life story, and I might tell it later.

Instead, this morning I received the always dreadful news that another good guy has left us to cancer. (this cancer stuff is getting old, by the way) He’s a best friend to one of my closer cousins. All of us the same age, at that point in our lives when priorities surface, self-awareness speaks to us through the language of birth, loss, career transitions, and through the restlessness of the realities of a monotonous life. Our realities a little more settled in (just a tiny bit more), making it easier for us to understand each other.

So the other day, when my cousin communicated to me how devastating Oscars recent cancer journey has been —for him, my cousin— I realized the impression that Oscar has made on his friends. I again, was reminded of the power of friendship, and how powerful a lasting impression can be for one another, just by nature of being a good person.

Oscar leaving us, is a tremendous loss. I’ll always remember him as the badass UCLA left guard, who in high school stood out from the rest of my cousins friends because of his teddy-bear heart and because he was a vegetarian. His pro-football career cut short by his first battle with this horrible cancer demon, he instead became an amazing father, and remained very close friends with many of the same people he grew up with; a testament to his character. It wasn’t until recently, after twelve or so years, that I started to catch up with him again, and easily discovered what a wonderful father he became, and the loving soul that remained.

May Oscar rest as he lived, in peace.

In this society, 
to love with your entire being 
is a curse. 

A curse that all souls 
should be committed to 
and that I’d bet my life on. 

A curse to proudly secure 
in the trenches of the space hidden 
in the pause of entanglement,

love briefly put on hold.

A curse that warms like the sun, 
building foundations of time, 

memories to unravel slowly in. 

To love, as if society doesn’t exist.
Civilization begins and ends 
when we become cursed by love.

...the inspiring awe of a Teslin Lake, embedded into the curves of a simple smile. The fishermen have shown me the certain greatness that lies beneath the magnificent beauty of the still waters, and beside the restless trees that embrace them. A life so beautifully delicate and complex that even men yearn, as women do their families, to foster a particular process of sharing time with, and to better understand, what’s hidden below.

And now, perhaps in my journeyed existence as a young woman, I’ve discovered that even beyond this life in the waters, stirs an even greater purpose. As a clown disguises his sadness in his false smiles, the waters cry out to us, not as sadness but as proof, that a smile is what we should seek to take when we explore its robust, still body. A smile that reminds us that it’s the world that we should make happy, and we merely follow. Our lives belong to this world, and the essence of our being lay still in the water. It’s the all-recondite joy we should share and remember, without asking why. Happiness doesn’t begin or end with a view or photo of a lake, nor with the fish caught from it. Happiness begins with awareness of the fragility of our lives and our response to all that the Earth has given us, including that smile in the lake.

2013 memory of Teslin Lake, Yukon 2005