What's missing -- feels like there's something missing -- The capacity is there -- the job's not stressful but I somehow fail at the ignition stage - all this fuel just sitting around -- un-utilized potential How do I light that fire? Set it ablaze in a daze caught up in the haze of comfort I need to challenge myself, raising tides lift all boats, but they also drown livestock cows, horses, and goats, seeking refuge in hills that once covered in grass now fill up like lifeboats. Doctors in white coats say "Keep your spirits up" -- hope floats.
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Two weeks ago, I went down to San Luis Obispo, California for a five day Jupyter team meeting with about twenty five others. This was the first such meeting since my return after being away for two years, and I enjoyed meeting some of the "newer" faces, as well as catching up with old friends.
It was both a productive and an emotionally challenging week, as the project proceeds along at breakneck pace on some fronts yet continues to face growing pains which come from having to scale in the human dimension.
On Wednesday, November 9th, 2016, we spent a good chunk of the day at a nearby beach: chatting, decompressing, and luckily I brought my journal with me and was able to capture the poem you will find below. I intended to read it at a local open mic the same evening, but by the time I got there with a handful of fellow Jovyans for support, all of the slots were taken. On Friday, the last day of our meeting, I got the opportunity to read it to most of the larger group. Here's a recording of that reading, courtesy of Matthias Bussonnier (thanks, Matthias!).
November 9th, 2016read more
The lovely thing about the ocean is that it is tireless It never stops incessant pendulum of salty foamy slush Periodic and chaotic raw, serene Marine grandmother clock crashing against both pier and rock Statuesque encampment of abandonment recoiling with force and blasting forth again No end in sight a train forever riding forth and back along a line refined yet undefined the spirit with which it keeps time in timeless unity of the moon's alignment I. walk. forth. Forth forward by the force of obsolete contrition the vision of a life forgotten Excuses not made real with sand, wet and compressed beneath my heel and toes, yet reeling from the blinding glimmer of our Sol reflected by the glaze of distant hazy surf upon whose shoulders foam amoebas roam It's gone. Tone deaf and muted by anticipation each coming wave breaks up the pregnant pause And here I am, barefoot in slacks and tie experiencing sensations of loss, rebirth and seldom kelp bulbs popping in my soul.
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Standing impatient, platform teeming, almost noon Robo voices read off final destinations But one commuter's already at his He reached for life's third rail There is no why in the abyss There's only closing credit hiss The soundtrack's gone, he didn't miss Reaching for life's third rail We ride on, now, relieved and moving forward Each our own lives roll forth, for now But now is gone, for one among us Who reached for life's third rail We rock, to-fro, and reach each station Weight shifting onto forward foot Flesh, bone ground up in violent elation And bloody rags, hours ago a well worn suit I ride the escalator up and pensive About what did and not occur today Commuter glut, flow restricted A crooked kink in public transport hose resolved.
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I walk in monologue through Berkeley's Hills Feet pressing into sidewalk firmly I eat the pensive mood solitude brings And bite into the juiciness of self-reflection I write, first time in years, free verse impromptu Taking few dozen steps between each pair of lines I yearn, on tip-toes stretching high, to be expressive A mode of being longtime self-denied I'm walking home - from job I'll soon be leaving To find myself believing once again That which I do defines me not and feeling That which I am is good. enough. a lot.