-

 Today 

These days, or let’s say, Today – a day like any other or perhaps not – a day like none, 

a day that promises nothing much else but life:  

 

my feet ready to take a step, one in front of the other, feeling my weight which is pinning me down to middle of earth, kindly anchoring me in root kingdom, spiraling me into musky darkness, till something Unknown bubbles up from below, informing me of secrets yet to be deciphered – steps yet to be taken, breaths to be breathed, stories yet to be lived, mushrooms to be found, music yet to be memorized, faces to be delighted by… lucid leaps to be dared… 

 

I am not in a hurry, others are traveling day and night following star constellations, carrying gifts with them – I, too, carry my gifts, in form of tiny pebbles and seeds which will guide me back home, will let the flowers bloom again, give spice to my food, and will tickle smiles into the eyes of countless strangers… offering them freely, I am not in a hurry… 

 

across the street in the dark, a little boy kneeling all alone on the sidewalk, watching the stars through his new small telescope, Venus, Pluto, Mars, they dance and jitter on the screen intent on offering the boy joy, awe, amazement – so he won’t forget his trembling soul when the world arches backwards into itself, in a somersault of sorts… someday… 

 

around the corner, the old man with his tiny ancient dog, alternately pulling each other on a leash that belongs to the mermaid of fate hidden in plain sight, I admire the courage for each new step, one step closer to dinner, to a food bowl and couch – but where are the girls shrieking with exaggerated astonishment, not to be confused with the flock of crows… complaining… 

 

three kings hiding behind a monumental rock formation, they need to pee, the sun is humming the evening’s melody, colorful and pastel in sentiment, it’s just an ordinary day, not a wise day, we don’t know who is lost, and who is close to the end of their walk, on earth we meander with ignorance or confidence, until we feel keen darkness piercing our heart, breaking us open – starlight takes flight and mixes with our blood, escaping eagle eye into the night, a pair of owls accompanying each other and my feet… cooing… 


ten thousand dreams glimmer in drunkenness, winged baby squirrels hurry high, 

navigating with curiosity and tiny tails, promising a busy day, 

perhaps later another gleaming night… 

 

Today – I am not in a hurry….


Karina Epperlein, January 6, 2024

Comments

  1. SummerJanuary 6, 2024 at 2:31 PM

    The rain on the roof above my desk is so loud and insistent that I hear all the drops. One great symphonic rush. Whether in it or near it or listening to it, water always slows me down. A gift for the New Year.

    ReplyDelete
  2. AyshaJanuary 7, 2024 at 9:15 PM

    Wow what an amazing post! I feel the air around me soften, I will return to this over and over again. I am practicing walking like you are teaching us, one step in front of the other, such a simple practice, so subtle the insights, so precious my own curiosity and sensitivity…

    ReplyDelete
  3. Alex KJanuary 8, 2024 at 10:28 AM

    What a beautiful poem. Touches my soul.

    ReplyDelete
  4. KenJanuary 10, 2024 at 11:18 AM

    Thank you so much, Karina. Such beautiful writing from your beautiful mind and heart.

    The 7th was the 5th anniversary of my brother's passing, so the 6th was the anniversary of my BARTing over to the city to go out for a Sunday breakfast with him, noticing that he seemed "off" during my visit but not taking it too seriously, telling him "see you next weekend" as I got out of his car at Civic Center ... and of course, even though there's no sense in it, feeling terrible that I didn't say "you're not sounding nor looking good and we're close to SF Kaiser, let's go to the emergency room and have you checked out." Such regret and pain that I could not save my baby brother, 8 years younger than me, who I did not want to outlive ...

    By which I mean to say that this gorgeous piece by you was very needed by me today. There's nothing to do but experience it all, and be grateful for continued existence while it lasts ...

    ReplyDelete
  5. FernJanuary 10, 2024 at 2:58 PM

    Today I am not in a hurry...because of your wonderfully placed words. Gratitude!

    ReplyDelete
  6. EcraigJanuary 14, 2024 at 12:14 PM

    Oof this really touched my soul Karina, thank you. 💞

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

-
Image
  Immigration On Friday morning of September 20, I am spending a couple of hours for my naturalization interview in the federal building  on 630 Sansome Street in San Francisco  that houses the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. Then later at 1 pm, in the oath ceremony, I am reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. Standing, holding up my right hand like everyone else, repeating the words after our master of ceremonies, I am engulfed in a chorus of immigrants’ voices from all over the world. Out of maybe 80, only two are Caucasian. The man leading us through the 20 minutes ceremony, is most likely a judge, but without his robe. He is an elegant, kind, and personable elder. We can hear the genuineness in his voice, and we are genuine, too. As we pledge allegiance to this country, the English sentences might ring slightly different for each of us. In another minute we will be citizens of the United States. Something in me is expanding. I am swearing to be a responsible an...
Read more
-
Image
  Last Dance with Uncle Oak This time, to honor the loss of another member of my ancient live oaks, I want to climb into the tree. Like I used to do 32 years ago, move, touch, feel – suspended in the air, resting on bark, sensations to be remembered. Perhaps documenting it? I ask around last minute, and find a good match in photographer  Rebecca Weinstein  to take stills of my last dance with old Uncle Oak. Once my naked feet touch the rough bark, a dynamic joy starts spreading through my body and limbs. The surprising urge to elongate myself within the safety of his sturdy arms. Next morning in a different light, I dress for another chance of closeness, envisioning my smallness to be captured. The freedom to grow into a tree, become tree , get an oak’s view, blend well, and disappear eventually. Uncle Oak, has been leaning for decades, growing northward horizontally, reaching far over into the neighbor’s yard. Now that Mama Oak has left, his malaise is more apparent...
Read more
-
Image
  Looking at you… f aintly the handwriting reads:    Karina & Bob, Here’s looking at you in 1994 With best regards, Howard   Back when he studied T’ai Chi with me for a few years, Howard was already older, a fine, eccentric gentleman. And a very good and well-known artist. With a deeply philosophical side to him which made him enjoy my way of teaching the Art and Principles of this ancient practice. He’d have questions, comments, always delighted by insights, his or mine.   In the hallway I often pass his small watercolor, with its (faded by now) inscription to Bob and me. Bob’s birthday will be in three days on May 18.  If alive, my late husband – who died in October of 2016 – would turn ninety-five this year. Suddenly I feel the presence of time in my heart, swirling about back and forth, swooshing from chamber to chamber, expanding. Howard’s greeting from 1994 – thirty years later, I am now seventy, about the age he was back then.  Suddenly I am...
Read more