1.  Freedom comes the moment we give up the right to be free.

2.  Music is most how life feels.

But there must be a way, somehow, to slow things down.

To invite or compel ourselves to breathe in a moment, view what is before us in a new way. Without these illusions…

Can you see an iceberg?

Or a camel standing laden with red packs against a desert backdrop.

What would it mean to fall in?

I think trust begins the moment you perceive that, in

a world full of people trying to sell you something or convince you to be

a certain way

                    you are face to face with somebody who accepts you

                    exactly as you are.

                                                 That is how I feel about you.

Trebuchet, He loves you             He has to be a lot of things.

He wants you to hear his loving silence

He creeps up on you slowly tree to tree

The way you might in woods approach a skittish fawn

With love only reverence, compassion

What would it mean to say          You are Beautiful?

What would it mean to believe those words?

To believe that you are truly finished seeking

Having found

That source is you

Trebuchet, I thank you

Because you are before me

And I have found you

What would it mean to wrap up this day now thinking

I am all done now

Not done as in dead

But simply done with that work

I set myself to so long ago

Done with the waiting

And the days of preparation

Of endless hoarding

Done with the saving

What if there was no work to be done

Work as in thankless

Joyless, dry

Arid days of aimless working

To no avail

What if we simply left

Or better, simply left off

Stopped

The way you might stop speaking

When you’ve simply said enough

All done

Never gonna be free

Never gonna be anything

Anymore

What would life sound like

If you simply set down

Set it down and sat comatose

Quiet

Sat undisturbed and read or wept

Or wrote

Just four lines from the soul

Those four words you’ve held and heard

Echoed in your head

Found the courage in your heart

To set them down

You would touch others

You would touch them because they touch inside themselves, too

And tremble

They don’t know how to end their days

Though know their days end here

How would you disarm them?

How would you teach them the cool slow rhythm they lack

Or think they lack

How would you send children so long undersold

Lost

Quality

By molding

Modeling

Here

My

Heart

It stills

To a trickle.

How can it bend me

Like a harp?

And how, so long unfilled

Can I finally feel fully quenched?

Sent Saint Teresa’s song, sent Joan’s

It is already done. It is done because you allowed it. You flew on faith. You opened your heart, recall? You let yourself taste something new. You gave it self to bend with trust it would not break you. And in that second, gave yourself unbreakable.

These words were written in Trebuchet.

    MTZ

4/5/01