so i decide to write again.

10 Feb 2013

2 coffee morning. Yesterday lost the wallet. Somewhere between here and Navan Town. Feel real stupid. Its a rather large hold a check book size. Fortunately no cash, no credit or bank cards, no bank info at all... but my passport,US drivers license and Irish drivers license and also the little booklet from the Buddhists recording the date and my Tibetan refuge name. Anyway am amazed at having lost it. Thinking, thinking where, how, when could it have happened, lost nicked. Today I'll have to retrace the day going to shops, garda station, parking garage security. Pulled the car apart, looked all over the house, checked every possible jacket pocket you know until realizing i must depend on the kindness of strangers, i must accept the fact that I’ve lost my identity. There's no phone number in the wallet, the address on my Irish license is from three years ago, and i cant even comfort myself that maybe someone finds it and wants to get it back to me. Anyway its the feeling of stupidity, the feeling of why me, the sense of helplessness and the temptation to berate myself for this act of senility. So 2 coffee morning. All over the world it would be a 2 coffee morning or it would be if every one had that option. All over the world people are losing things more painful than my loss of an identity of a person who doesn’t even exist anyway.

Slow

Slow as a screw cap wine morning dark faded into rain blocked sunrise. Chug of the coffee making scents of redemption and awareness fills my kitchen. Unlike the rest of the world Friday is the hardest one too many days dragged wake-ups are not really awake when you've not slept. Now among the shadows forgotten aspects of our truth. Hamlet the shadow of Summer's dream.  The eighteen year old girl sentenced to life for murder of a nine year old girl when she was fifteen. Tried as an adult. No blood ever found on her or her clothes. No murder weapon recovered. Her sixteen year old boy friend, interviewed six times by thy FBI, failed polygraph, none of that allowed to the jury. Fifteen year old in jail for three years before convicted, denied application to continue education, innocent until proven guilty. Eighteen year old Tibetan girl Buddhist nun under Chinese occupation. Practitioner of compassion for all beings. Sits down outside the abbey in a pool of gasoline - lights the match in protest, light upon atrocities, atrocious act among atrocious acts. She and all who immolate are terrorists, seek only to disrupt the lawful Chinese government and it's people. This is the morning shadow of the night before. Coffee the shadow of the cheap screw cap bitchy white wine slowing me down into crow sound shapes emerged from darkness into grey dawn.