Worthy of a Wink!

It is almost an outdated gesture in the world of body language these days. The "Wink". Relegated to images of oily car salesmen, grandfathers who have long since forgotten your name and that creepy guy in home room who just wants to get in your pants. Sadly, the sweet and subtle nuance that playfully masks a deeper sentiment has been distorted almost as much as the meaning of the holidays. Get Drunk, buy sh*&^, "tell it like it is...in your face" mirrors the volume of excess and aggression with which we pass from day to day. But, language is limited, so are funds, liver function and audible reach. While it is said that a picture is worth a thousand words, a look can carry universal complexities, summing up an abyss of pain or mountain of joy with apocolyptic intensity.
While I head out tonight for a rendez-vous with friends and fun, drink and delerium on a collision course with 007, I can't help but to take a passing glance in the review mirror. The '06 brought full time, a condo purchase, a kiss good bye to the Vegas virgin, a stand off with death, many lessons in work place politics, financial stress, the opportunity to bring Christmas to a family with nothing, visits from the past and far abroad, reunions, seeing family climb to higher ground, saying good-bye to friends setting sail for distant lands, a revamped designer wardrobe, tears, fights, anger, laughter, peace, self confidence, more dreams.... Here we are, standing at the precipice between the year that's passed and a blank canvas ripe with desire for the first colourful brushstrokes. I can't find the words to close this chapter on the wild romp that will be remembered on the back of photographs as 2006. So, I'll smile, find meaning in the wounds that scarred and offer a "Wink"...closing my eyes on a moment and the door to what was. With an air of grace and gratitude for all the blessings in my life, I'm ready to greet the new chapter with open arms, a D&G suit, Cesar Paciotti shoes and of course a long stem glass of Cristal. Happy New Year. May you find the path to your dreams in the year that lies ahead!

Whispers from a Tree

We fill our worlds with the percussion of progress, a symphony of sensation and static. White noise, green machines, roaring roadsters, jubilant jack hammers, hysterical honking, shouting, laughter, slam, screech, "move", "where are you going?", "meet you at..., hurry up, run, I'm going.." Slam, clip clop.

And then...almost unexpectedly, an invitation; a break from routine. The sounds morph, foreign to the ears...then fade. the murmur of quiet chat on a westbound train....and the rhythmic chick-chock of the undercarriage dancing from rail to rail. Past the swing of suburban scenery on the wide screen window..Staring out beyond the view. Hearing a faint and familiar voice. "Come to me".

On the platform, the clock punches out an analog 4:10. It's job is done. A moment to orient. Long Branch. Looks the same. Follow the drones towards the tunnel. Through the tunnel. Five become three. Three become 1. Lakeshore East. Flash. Dairy Queen. Ice-cream on a picnic table. Mid-summer. The Queen has died. Long live Arnold's drive in. Time for a steak burger? No. But, I muse at the thought.

A few more steps. The legion. Its tacky sign lights up the park. The grass shifts and stirs waving me close. I see the path. Like a water slide of concrete telling me I'm next. Waiting for me to just let go. The creek is running high...surfing over rocks and wood. But the gurgle isn't loud enough to muffle a whisper in the wind. "Come to me". I know you. I've always known you. Consumed by you. Burned by you. And yet there you are, the constant in the silence. "Come to me" Simple in your sonnet, yet complex in your calling. You are the balance, the trickster, the lover, the muse. You promise nothing, but offer everything. I am glad the invitation has not been reneged in my absence. You are the whisper from the tree that never fades, found in the silence when the silence finds me.

This day, I keep walking. But, you are part of me as much as the silence is part of the noise. I will be back to taste your sweetness, listen to your song, burn my hand on your fire and soothe it in your stream of consciousness. I cannot say when. Time is for trains and tables. I will pass by when the day is calm enough to remember your call, when it's safe to finally come home.