Windows

I went outside and it smelled so good. I stood on a cinder block and danced to the music piped into my ears. I felt the morning sun heat up my face and my baby strapped warm against my core. Nine months inside of me, nine months next to me. I looked across rooftops, trees, water, past bridges past mountains, my gaze settling on the sky.

I danced and I knew happiness. I felt free.

Until I realized that anyone in my neighbor's laundry room could see me. They could be laughing at me. They could think I was crazy, or high, or both. A lot of people live in that house. They could be watching me the way I watch them folding laundry at night, not purposefully but because we are right in one another's line of vision. I sit at my computer, facing a window with a view. But at night the waters and mountains and trees fade to black, leaving only the illuminated window of their laundry room.

I stepped down from the cinderblock. The floating bridge in the distance disappeared behind houses.

I walked around the perimeter of my yard again. I want to memorize it now, in case I ever move. I know I will not live in this house forever. But I have grown attached to these walls where I've raised children and birthed a baby and loved a man and wrote words.

If the universe wants me to move, I will follow. If the earth wants me to feel my feet upon it, I will dance. If spirit wants me to play, I will dream.

Look for me out your window. I'm not afraid of being seen.

"And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

What if those were rocket ships?

(Some thoughts on the events that inspired the poem: Beyond the end of the world.) Although I marvel at the Blue Angels air shows, they leave me with some unsettling questions. How much money do these shows cost? How much pollution do they leave in the air? What is the true intention of the US Navy? Hint: the answer is just one word.

Recruitment. They do it to recruit more bodies because more bodies mean more power. More power means more separateness. More separateness means more war. And it's all because we still look for power on earth instead of setting our sights inward.

There will never be enough power to go around, but there will always be enough power to fight over, tempting man to allocate his resources to killing and controlling rather than growth and exploration.

Like I said, I love watching the jets fly over. After a particularly close call with an F/A-18 Hornet, I updated my Facebook status: Every time a Blue Angel flies right over my head, I squeal and my heart beats faster and for a moment, I am, all at once, high and humbled and awestruck. Now I remember how a toddler feels about EVERYTHING. 

But what if we were watching space ships take off into the galaxy instead?

"When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace." - Jimi Hendrix

via kwout.me