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mountainminded · 4 months
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I don’t know what type of bird you are.
But I admit you have me intrigued as I observe you from afar.
The surrounding forest is frantic, anxiously flapping around; forcefully fighting over each scrap of food to be found. And whether or not such scarcity be true, with winter fast approaching - the worms seem to them, so far and so few. But to my utter curiosity, you remain completely unmoved. You’re perfectly satisfied simply maintaining your perch in my view.
Next I watch as the proud peacocks come to squawk, they beg of your gaze, fruitlessly flashing shiny feathers. And the young restless sparrows whom fly south for the season, invite you along to go with them in formation together. But you politely decline their parade, expressing no interest in either charade. Then I watched wide eyed as you took to sky, and foraging your own route, you climbed high above where the others dared fly.
And as the air chilled, the whistling winds ripped the leaves from their trees. Beneath you, wrath of a roaring river swallowed up some unwitting sandbar, spitting out its broken debris. But the storm’s dark destructions prove no bother for this steadfast bird, indeed. And I wonder if hell nor high water could disturb such contentment in the creature which I see.
As the days float by, I find myself moving closer to your tree, encouraged by this peaceful feeling I experience in your proximity. And then I realize I’ve never known just how beautiful a quiet confidence can be. And so, while the whole forest sways on, as it reacts to each breeze, I find myself standing there still - smiling at you - smiling back at me.
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mountainminded · 8 months
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Ikigai 生き甲斐
We are each allotted just one sliver of spacetime
and we spend it between the pings and the static
but for one, quiet moment, you were there.
You finally hung up the phone
slammed your screen shut
and high above the haze
your city settled down
as you forged along at the pace of your own presence.
Somewhere along the ridgeline the unsent emails fell
quietly away from the prefontal of your cortex
and you breathed once again
and your inbox was clear.
Somewhere, up there
you made peace with your pain.
You finally clicked in
focus narrowing inward to one instant in time.
And leaning into the moment
you found peace, from your mind.
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mountainminded · 9 months
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I’m a ghost to you
you’re a ghost of me
bird’s eye view
somewhere inbetween
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mountainminded · 10 months
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You do not seek peace of mind.
You seek peace from mind.
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mountainminded · 1 year
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Brother,
You dare deny me your pain.
Impart upon me your anguish
and allow me the unwavering honor
of sitting with you in the mud.
You see,
Ignoring torment serves no fine practice of pride.
But acceptance shall lift the buried bricks
upon which your new bridge shall be built.
And as a man
I choose to weather the construction alongside you,
until such a time at which I’ll swell
as I watch you walk tall to the other side.
So let it go brother
Pull from your pit your demons of deep
Relinquish control
knowing damn well
I’ll hold your head high whilst you weep.
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mountainminded · 1 year
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We are all just prisoners here
Of our own device
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mountainminded · 2 years
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For a moment, I was there
somewhere between aperture 1.8 and 2.4
while a rising sun kissed the ridge line of a granite cirque
the twist of my focus knob clicked clear
Floating comfortably between two sleepy sequoias
a ray danced a delicate dwindle on the morning dawn
And glorious golden glow suddenly encapsulated my viewfinder
Startled, I breathe in and readjust, zooming out a notch or two
weighting my right foot I shift inpreceptively left
and with balance restored
shutter fire symphony rings
of which I only hear the music
no wavelength for thought
Aware without cognition
that the beauty lies in the conducting
the art in the act of creation
the meaning made meaningful by memory
and for that moment, I was there.
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mountainminded · 2 years
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8:40 Departure for St. Elsewhere.
Quiet concourse stroll beneath pale pink skies,
while terminal windows reflect back to him
some sad sullen stranger with tired green eyes.
Window seat, his inhibitions settle down
and memory swims a sweet soft smile
and for one sunsetting moment she’s with him
staring back through the black for a while.
Mirage fades a cloudy careless goodnight
and lucid his dreams never touch down
so he paces his aisles in oblivion
wishing he could only drown
out the engine’s noise
that which hums
hold on
forever
hold on
But whichever way might he try
there’s no rest in his mind,
for much too loud and too lovely this lullaby.
Defeated, he finally slumps back to his chair
knowing, that a lie
is much like a course set for sunrise
that which never comes, suspended in mid air.
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mountainminded · 2 years
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The sycamore will stand tall long after we fall
And below broad branches renewed rivers will run
winding down snow capped glaciers, gleaming in pure light of a crisp morning’s sun
out to indigo ocean so endlessly alive, beneath moon that which pulls reliably upon it’s tide
And petty man’s wars, and all that he’s preached, is nothing but a drop in this ocean, mere gain of sand on it’s beach
Earth is only subject to temporary human confines; a legacy defined not by power, corruption, nor crime
We inflict but small stains on true hands of time.
And eons after midnight, the stars, oh they’ll shine brighter than ever. Above a sky which owes no sympathy for past human endeavors
Because you see, nature knows no kings.
And I shall die happy knowing - that this is the way of things
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mountainminded · 2 years
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some lovely old memories of mine, undisturbed by space nor time
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mountainminded · 2 years
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Consider the space between us,
is it an armrest, or an ocean?
What distinguishes the distance in this case I wonder
For neither of which I can find a safe bridge to cross.
Fettered eyes cast downward
at your rectangular shaped echo-chamber,
While I sheepishly do the same
Oh we hopeless homogeneous creatures of habit
Consumers consumed by the noise in our brains
anxiously tapping upon glowing glass boxes
whilst superficial dopamine hits are all we sustain
And defeated, I accept the terms and continue
knowing I’ve buckled my seat too many times on this plane.
But then, in my peripheral, surprise eyes cast my way
And rather than quickly pull away
they continue unbothered in a kind and curious way
And all at once, I’m swimming in the ocean
Hopelessly searching for a wave
And finally it rolls in
A flight attendant’s dolly,
A careless hand, and a flying cup of coffee
And in glorious slow motion splatter
Seattle’s best coats my sweatshirt
Arms outstretched a reflexive, mindless save
There I sit a sopping, scolding sacrifice
But suddenly, I’m meeting your gaze.
And as the apologies land
and subsequent subtleties exchanged
I come to realize
That only my smile’s been stained
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mountainminded · 2 years
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mountainminded · 3 years
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baby you’re a wave
convex complexities cascading in shades
nature’s culminating force in fantastic display
swells build beneath tumultuous surface’s spray
eyes of your storm cast green electrical haze
memories ripped ashore suddenly washed away
your tide pulled upon endlessly
by some dark distant moon
who’s left you
swirling
for forever and a day
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mountainminded · 3 years
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I’m picturing a boy I used to know
who’s evergreen eyes burst to sunrise
who’s ears heard opportunity’s bell ring
who’s mind molded tact sharp with
a subtle scratch of penil each morning
and by evening’s sweet smell of northwest rain
And with each leap his leg’s confidence collecting
lungs inhaling pure adolescent ambition
exhaling, serotonin coursing true-blue veins
A boy who floats through familar forests
stretching strides skyward,
he chases nothing more
than the very next moment he gains
And here I sit, wondering about that boy,
whether he would make any particular sense
of the adult that he became
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mountainminded · 3 years
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mountainminded · 3 years
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The man zips a blue coat stuffed with leather gloves
and pushes me out towards the cold
Throwing the hotel latch, a pause; he’s missed something
A clomp or two around the wobbling boy
and there’s the walkman, still lying on the dresser
A most precious accessory nearly forgotten
But alas, there will be music today
We ascend while Beethoven’s Ode to Joy erupts from the headset
and as the man leans into his first slope I trail cautiously behind
teeming with juvenile trepidation
Witness to a strange dance performed on that day
Aspens flinch past us on cusp of disaster
while he glides effortlessly in front, upon a crescendo,
harmonious rhythm punctuating each bend and every sway
Suddenly the figure in front of me pointedly pivots
and his frame instantly turns white as ghost
consumed by the mountain
But if only for a moment
and then found once again
bursting from a cloud
sporting a freshly minted grin
As I shot upward through my years
The man rarely called nor
offered a veteran’s wisdom to my ears
He gave no insight to his daily business
For that was his right, relationships are not written
and a man may be just as solitary as he likes
But despite such absence
I grew to understand him
And as I left adolescence
I realized I required neither
connection of word nor by hand
Instead I've fostered a sense much deeper
and regardless of his kept distance
I knew this man
I knew him like an ocean knows
the moon that which reliably pulls upon its tides
An awareness of hereditary force not lost upon my instinct
that which continues to push me - out towards the cold
to those familiar whispering winds
the rhythms of the mountains
where I know the meaning his music
and I know his confidence in my bones
And so I lean in with my shins and plant with my poles
and in his honor I continue the strange dance which started that day
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mountainminded · 3 years
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I am not an influencer
Don’t mistake this cameraman for a fan
My shutter doesn’t click to the tune of
post another selfie, get famous by noon
Nor is my shot centered upon self-validation
Behind hashtags lie insecurities so blatant
You faked it you made it, congratulations
Your numbers are booming, oh what a sensation
So self absorbed, yet self awareness so vacant
Mastry never grows upon obsession of outcomes
nor by attention nor promotions of brand
Rather by diligence, practice of process
A sigular focus - to be more steady with each hand
There’s no destination upon which to reach,
no means to an end that which made a skillful man
And if by morning, all accounts disappeared
and with it all superficial internet fame
I’d worry for the influencer’s sense of identity
for a moment
Then happily return to my camera,
simply in it for the love of each frame
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