So I visited a SGI Buddhist meeting. Basically the whole religion struck me as the ultimate in self-help, and very little more than that. But the chanting is very interesting.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Sqrtj9p7ZU

I tied my jacket around her face to hide her eyes and I led her through the trees to where the oak and the birch met. As they both grew taller they slowly intertwined. Rough, dark bark touching smooth, white, paper-thin skin. And between them was the path to my small world. She sighed when I took my jacket and put it around her shoulders. Tentative steps in feet now unrestrained by city shoes took her through the doorway and past flowers of royal purple. Their nodding heads seemed to address her with the gravity due a princess. I almost bumped into her when she stopped at the sight of the cedar. It swelled, erupted from the ground. In its lowest and greatest limbs was my bed. My home.

My hand trembled while I lit the candles. Two circles of light and scent overlapping around the giant tree, causing its boughs to dance in flickering shadows. Her eyes reflected the tiny flames as she stared into darkness and played absently with a blossom tucked behind one ear. I brought her a cup of tea. Tender raspberry leaves, tart rose hips, and sweet wild honey of clover. She was a world away from me as she drank. One could tell by looking at her face that she had left the inks and powders behind. Those horrid designs which mar so many of Life's canvases. But then she looked directly at me, and her half smile stretched time. Longer, longer, until time recoiled and snapped us back to the present. She was not merely beautiful. She was fiercely, wonderfully, beautifully alive.

We leaned together, fingers intertwined, lips together, and tasted ten seconds of Eden. Rough, tanned face against soft, pale face.

She shivered, and I led her to the edge of the wood. Slowly. Reluctantly. Painfully. There we parted. And there my heart was cut in two. I have only felt half alive since. Such is the destiny of lovers in the trees.

I have sea salt stuck to my soul now, I think.

I was looking at blog-rings, and it's amazing how many people have stopped using their xangas. When I get the time I will change the theme for my site. I love the satisfaction of creating a good unique layout with music and color and everything. And I do need to start posting things of substance here. I have so many ideas from different times that I carry around in my head and never get around to using. Let's try this substance thing.

I love words. I love the impact you can achieve by combining different cliches in a unique way, by using puns and just creating images and scenes and even entire worlds through little insignificant symbols. I love to write and I talk to myself constantly in my head, contemplating and discussing things. But I do not consider myself a writer, and although I have been told many times that I "should" be one when I grow up then I do not think my conscience could stand the thought of such intangible contributions to society. In the same way I have written several poems,  which have been quite enjoyable to those I have shared them with. But I am not a poet. I have written songs and love to sing and play instruments, but I am not a musician.
I seem to be defined by what I am not.

It seems strange, since once you dabble in something you are often considered at least an amateur fillintheblank . There are benefits to being an outsider. I don't think the same way as many, or so it seems. I love to gather knowledge from many types of sources. Random facts that might prove useful, or just plain interesting things. I see experience in many different areas can provide unusual revelations when dealing with problems. I think people are too specialized these days. I want to be a "Jack"-of-all-trades. I don't know. I can see myself doing so many different kinds of things. And I want to do so many different things in my life.
I can see myself walking across America. Living in a hut in the Amazon. Serving as a counselor in a church. Or a janitor in the same church.
Or both jobs at the same time.
Teaching (gasp!) little kids science. Inventing something useful. Being in a local band. Managing my own (PRIVATE) park. Last but (definitely) not least, forming a Christian ecovillage.

My personality makes me think of a tightly wrapped and snarled circle made of string. I have to deal with conflict within myself. Conflicting emotions, conflicting goals. I do not want to be unbalanced, as I perceive so many "normal" people. Balance is so important in life in certain areas of life.

Okay, that's enough content for one late night. Now you know why I'm so quiet. I'm busy talking to myself, since I'm one of my closest friends.