Jan 17th 2008

Today I feel very restless, stuck.  The reason, well, its reasons that reason knows not.  Its these times that I wish to be Air, “That is elemental, Mr. Watson” (I know that’s elementary! Mr. Holmes turns in his literary grave).  Right now, if I could blow where I please, I would be in Hawaii, enjoying the warmth of sunshine, basking like a seal on the beach or maybe in India with my cousins chomping down some really spicy Chaat, or maybe in that old fort in Ranthambhor, India,  looking out for ghosts of the past or over the Tor in Glastonbury wondering if Avalon existed.. I don’t want to talk so I will whistle through chimneys and rattle doors and windows. Blowing away debris when I want to clean,  breezing through when I want to know if all was well with the ones I  know,  Staying for a while with the ones I love,  Moving over the cemetery to feel if bones will rattle when I blow by,  Checking if it was an inhalation or an exalation when someone dies,  Sucked in deep or let out long when someone sighed, Becoming Shallow when someone was anxious,  bouncing off when someone chuckles/giggles, flying high on an eagle’s wing while looking down at the big picture,  Coming out of the depths of the ocean floor, knowing that deep could mean abyss, Damp and moist in a cave, knowing real darkness, Dry and harsh amongst the desert sand,  Lovingly touch the tresses of beautiful girls, Ruffle the hair on naughty boys, lifting the clothes off of the shy ones, blowing bird droppings so that it falls on that Bald man enjoying beer, blowing away the towel that the woman just laid to sit on, throwing a tantrum in a storm,  letting in on my existence- even when you don’t see me, touch me, or taste me, I am there, Alive.  Guess you Understand what I mean, don’t you?