the easing of your lid

when thinking a lot and always
of things that you know
bees ring soft and long          clear
and your fingers grow and reach
to sing on the surface of things

(the insides are much too large and far and wide and near)

light tightens like violin strings
through the thinness of air
a sound rushes safely through
there is no resistance here
there is no muting here

in purity and form
the sound flows tightly and together
from somewhere to there
from there to somewhere
here.

between orange and red
the softening of your shell
eases your lid
and welcomes me
         right
         on
         through


                                                                       i sink dancingly in in in

when thinking of a lot and always
i already fell
into one step that flew
and fingers grew and reached
to sing on the surface of things

with a sound and a step
long forgotten and too soon found
in a waiting corner
where the magicians gather

i am welcomed
      right
      on
      through

                                                                     to sink dancingly in
                                                                                               in


                                                                                               in

this me

a place remembered
a moment come and gone and here and then
to take away
the other worldly non
to take away
this we this us this i and you and me

color lights corners on fire
they burn down to embers and an echo
the glow leaves a whisper
in bending light pulled tight around an empty
moment who is actually full
every(thing)

an instinct guides you home
to a nonplace a nontime an unknown
an instinct born of home
an instinct born one thousand years ago
sings toward
a moment when everything worth breathing
everything worth my touch and
sound
and stare
calls upon the instinct that guides me home

i cannot remember
precisely where this moment lives
i cannot say this light was born this morning
(one thousand years ago its color might have shifted slightly down or up)
i cannot touch a thing i don't command

i do not command this memory
i do not command you
nor do i command this me.

a place remembered is
where you and every all

whisper.

the burn and rise.

that wolf.
howling howling howling at me. howling howling howling for me.
that wolf. eats it up. eats it up. chews it rips it tears it up.
that wolf.

the clouds blew up yesterday and this crusted ceiling came right on down. landed in a boat full of holes she was meant to sink. light cracked in and screeched, just before leaving back up toward that cloud that blew up yesterday.

there's a monster. there's a monster all in this thing. it eats them up. growling growling so silently. that monster comes and goes and bruises bruises bruises viciously.

we're all the home. we're all the home.
for the hows and the whys and the burn and rise.
and the when.
the when.
the when.
we're all the home. for that screeching light and that broken ceiling and all our nonsense steps go clock clack brack hack right toward nothing. in circles we go. in circles we go.

that wolf.
howling howling howling at me. howling howling howling for me.
that wolf. eats it up. eats it up. chews it rips it tears it up.
that wolf.

and the non-i.

some sort of who is it what

sounds are different this morning. light is thin and tight...its just sitting there outside that opening. just sitting there talking to me slowly, no pausing-doesnt even want me to answer. this might be a one way road.
some sort of who is it what sent me word over a space that doesnt actually exist. he spoke of rainbows and mailboxes. also, the moon and self destruction were mentioned. i didnt need it. ya see, i come along, i come right along. you sit alone in emptiness long enough, you dont have a choice. you have to face it, you have to swallow it. you sit alone on mars, a tiny speck of flesh amidst a sea off sound and air (theres also clouds)...you sit alone there, youre bound to come right along.
i didnt need that sort of who is it what.
but i admit. i felt better. the strings i felt constantly pulling my shoulders upward, loosened their footing. such a lovely mighty mask. its done well...but stands no chance against words in nonexistent spaces. echoes and an overwhelming nothingeverything coming right on over my self. those words didn't have to come. they may explode and implode all in the days to come. we never know whats coming.
its a dangerous game to pull the embers from a fire that was put out long ago. ya see, you get that shovel and you lift those embers and beneath those embers theres the other embers that time has crushed and ground. once that shovel lifts itself, all that dust is free and certainly much to small to contain. the wind gonna come and blow all those pieces of a larger, at one time burning, something. the wind gonna come and carry them all over and they wont have their home safe and confined beneath the embers.

its a dangerous game.

so much of all of this...is dangerous.

to know a thing that commands transparency and the presence of nothing-everything. to know a sort of who and why that commands the movement of things that live in non-existent spaces. to know a cloud that speaks of all the things no one even sees...

its all a dangerous game.

parade floats and satellites.

Certain things trigger the realization of what is here and what is there. Often times, here is there and there is here…but that’s a bit too OVERLOADED to get into right now. I’m pretty sure dancing crabs and flying octopi will figure all that out before I can manage to.

Anyhow…considering my impending departure/arrival/pause/beginning/end I’ve had “here and there” on my mind. I’ve tried to force it out…things are easier when they’re forced from your mind. Unfortunately, these things can’t be forced out and away…they can’t even be forced to move slightly aside in order to let other STUFF take the lead.

And so…that being said…
I was remembering the El Paso Thanksgiving Day parade the other day! Of all the things in the world that could have come to mind concerning ‘here and there’…that ridiculous parade was on my mind all day yesterday. I mentioned to a dear friend that I want to build a parade float. I also want to ride on the El Paso Sheriff horses. I also want to pinch one of the Shriners’ little cars and go freewheeling through the streets of central El Paso. Ahhh…maybe someday…
El Paso’s Thanksgiving Day parade is quite a sight to behold. Not because the floats are incredible or because the marching bands are AWESOME…it’s a sight because of the folks that line the sides of the roads. All the beautifully bizarre and ever interesting “borderness” of the city comes out to play. I would paint a detailed picture but that would be too large of a digression.

Quite simply, after remembering that silly parade I giggled about something. (I used to go on my dad’s shoulders when I was young…and the family would stop in at Paul Moreno’s for menudo and donuts. I still remember how cool it felt to be eating menudo in some office on the parade road.) My brain, rather than sincerely and sentimentally reflecting on “here and there” switched itself into self defense mode and chose to remember that ridiculous parade. And so I giggled.
You see, the truth is that I can’t figure out how to handle departures and arrivals…I’ve never been able to. In hindsight, I tend to destroy things before I say goodbye to them…so that the goodbye can somehow be blamed on something specific, the goodbye can be looked at as a completely unavoidable situation, rather than a choice I have made. Spoiling things before they had to end always made it possible to defy or deny the inevitability of the movement in life. It made letting go easier.

This ending is not something I want to spoil. It’s supposed to be hard…quite frankly, there is nothing on the planet I could ever possibly do to make it any easier. It has to be hard. To deny that would insult the nature of all the beauty. And so…instead of allowing myself to think about the reality of THIS goodbye, I think about the El Paso Parade and my brother doing sweet burn outs in rainy weather, my mother and her wine on the wall pose and my Auntie Norma’s crazy cane use when it gets dark outside.

Perhaps some honesty will help release a bit of the pressure. When I left home, I was absolutely terrified. I’m not the type of lady who can go on fearlessly. Quite frankly, I’m pretty much afraid of everything. This fear is something that has been in me for years. I’ve never had many reasons to be afraid of some of the things I’m afraid of. I don’t even know what I’m afraid of most of the time! All I can say is that there is something inside me that makes me scared. I battled with myself and others over whether it was simply insecurity…self doubt. of course that is indeed partially to blame but it’s not that.

I tend to go at things blindly. I’ve convinced myself that the ESSENCE of anything is sucked out of it if you try to plan too much. The less you plan the more reality you taste. Of course, after this last year in faraway land, I’ve realized some planning is usually good…but I’ll still stand by the principle that too much planning is never necessary.

I find myself still approaching things relatively blindly. And so, I realize, perhaps my fears are born out of the fact that because I don’t want to be in control, there is a high chance my life will always be driven by chaos and unpredictable details. There are sirens in the distance always warning me of how dangerous that is…how nonsensical it might be. I have no absolute clue what my route out of Bhutan is going to be…no clue what I will see. Only a small and vague idea of what it is I want to see.

I’ll touch the clouds once more…before my satellite lands in the desert lands again, back on earth’s level. I’ll spend hours travelling through mountains and clouds…along the first long mountain snake I had the pleasure of travelling upon. I told someone I would satellite land in El Paso. This particular type of landing implies that I have been in orbit. How appropriate. I’m only glad I didn’t go completely off course. (admittedly, I thought I would definitely spin out at least twice) That alone is quite an accomplishment for a gal like me.

Granted, I didn’t exactly have any particular course…but the course that revealed itself to me did so beautifully. All I had to do was know when to give it some gas, when to give it some breaks and when to bust that crazy Bhutanese u-turn.

All that being said, I know this chunk of whatever the course of my life will be, is over. I won’t be leaving necessarily…a part of me will always remain here, no matter where I go…no matter how long it takes for me to return. Likewise, Bhutan will always remain in me. I have come to love so many things in Bhutan. It’s a very different kind of love…a love I’ve never known. It’s love for a place…love for the complexities this place houses. Love for ideas and moments, love for the untouchable unidentifiable things only the secret language of my soul can speak of. Love for family and friends I didn’t know I had…I didn’t even know existed. Love for truth and acceptance, love for reconciliation and love for change no matter how brutally it may throw itself at me.

I’m sure everyone’s eyes are opened to the beauty of their home once they leave it. In the case of El Paso, that beauty was often overshadowed easily for me on account of the frustration that I often felt building in that town. I would never say I despise or did despise El Paso, but confess I was never truly conscious of the love I had for the town. Because of the love that I realized after leaving, I have been able to understand and nurture carefully, during its growth, the love I have for Bhutan. I simultaneously fell in love with two places at once…for the unique realities they both offer, for their simple facades that contradict their complex underbellies.

It’s a hard thing to fall in love with two places at once. It’s especially difficult when those two places are on opposite sides of planet Earth. It is made even more difficult when the love you have for something is fueled by reconciliation, brutal honesty, unfortunate unfair circumstances and the ever-quietly-present overwhelming WHOA of reality (nothing trite or dream-like about it).

Xochitl's time in Bhutan has not been spent in “Shangri-La”. Had I come to this Kingdom on some other kind of mission (the kind that grants you the right to wear a laminated badge with a bad mug shot on it) I might see things differently, but the implications of my existence here have not allowed me to be perpetually swept away by some heavenly fantasy. The things I have seen, been a part of, heard touched tasted smelled…a great percentage of these things have been born of a place that exists far far far from paradise.

I hope I won’t be misunderstood. I can absolutely understand and have witnessed everyday why people refer to the Kingdom so. I have been caught, at certain moments, and taken away to some other place that is not earth. I have happily catapulted myself into that fantasy with reckless abandon! (i smile) I’ve had the opportunity to touch clouds, feel them upon my face. I have seen mountains existing as living giants, softly stirring and rumbling my insides. I have seen the sky swallow the earth…I have seen the earth challenge the sky. (it’s a peacefully particular battle) I have watched the oldest of the elephant kings and queens sit upon their throwns across the river from the Paro-Thimphu snake. I’ve danced in the valley of the black neck crane. I’ve floated down a river on my back watching the Indian sun set in red explosion. I named a Himalayan yak “Bob”. I’ve discovered secret places in hidden shadows among these incredible mountains…places I maybe wasn’t necessarily expected to find. I have smiled and floated among and within the intangible. I have shared more than a year of my life with beautiful children from a faraway land whose voices chime away any sadness, unfairness or ugliness that may boil around them. Within their voices I have found some truth…I have found hope.

In the end of it all…I understand that two things happened simultaneously. I came here on one of the most ultimate searches of my life (had no clue what EXACTLY I was searching for). In that search I discovered that I really only had to admit to myself that Xochitl Rodriguez wants to search for the search. While that was my personal desire, there was something more important that I came here to do. I came here for the children. Now, fun time work time with children is very difficult when “the search” is constantly demanding vulnerability. It’s not an easy thing to be vulnerable to mystery, while trying to help youth find their answers. What a dream of an adventure!

Of course within and beyond these two branches of the tree, there are many leaves that have whirled into the wind, fallen to the ground or wait patiently too sprout up into the air. But, all those leaves have either fallen into the bonus category or the “too bizarre to be concerned with” category. (‘bonus’ category including a few incredible souls and ALL THESE MOUNTAINS, ‘too bizarre to be concerned with’ category including the blah blah of bad bad vultures and wolves.)
Thanks are owed to my family, for helping me grow into a woman who really only focuses on the essence of her mission and smiles for the bonus categories in her life, who lets the “too bizarre to be concerned with” category fall to the periphery. Thanks are owed to my family for helping me grow into a woman who can sometimes (in moments of alchemistic practice) transform everything so that it may fall into the bonus category…regardless of how wolf-like or vulture-ish it may be.

I must also express how incredible it feels to have developed a more concrete personal understanding of beauty. Beauty is not necessarily something that is pleasant or easy. The BEST kind of beauty is the kind that has to be discovered. Bhutan has challenged me to do just that. No doubt about it, this “place” is beautiful, but that beauty is full of boundaries when compared to the beauty of Bhutan’s underbelly. Often times, it is easier to ignore things that are foreign, things that are complicated. I can only say that I am so grateful that I didn’t turn away. My experience in Bhutan was very “local”…and while some might cringe at the thought of one year submerged in the reality of a place, I don’t think I could find a bigger smile to express my joy.
The physical beauty of this place will always bring tears to my eyes. I will always feel breathless existing in places as magical as Dochula and Phobjikha. But it is Bhutan’s soul, rather, the glimpse I have had at it, that has a power over me which extends and exists far beyond the simplicity of a physical reaction.

I smile knowing that, whether I am “here” or “there”, I will have some idea as to how to go about my simultaneous dance among the clouds and with reality.

Perhaps I will write once more before leaving this mountain Kingdom…perhaps, if I find it in me, I’ll keep what is left within xoch. (words might disobey the essence of the mystery of ALL that’s remaining.)

In the meantime, I can only answer one simple question and promise what I always promise—

--“what makes everything beautiful?”

The very simple fact that “everything” is boundless-ever growing in any one of its many manifestations-makes everything beautiful. The world is truly magical if we are able to understand the power our choices have over the nature truth’s course.

As always…there is more to come.

I am forever grateful for all the beauty I had the honor of discovering while I spent my days in this place.

Soon, I’ll begin my descent into the warmth of the desert that is my home. To the flat lands I go! (throw in a few hills) To the warm embrace of my home…I return.

I smile.

I send greetings from the EVER LOVELY Kingdom of Bhutan.

it's time.
all the sirens have sung their songs...all the sirens call me home now.
simply vanish. a farewell in paint and color...laughter and hugs...a long embrace...and then my flight...toward the satelite that will carry me home. back into my mother's grace.

perhaps to drink it up...to swallow it whole and bury it deep deep down...perhaps all those other people won't be here anymore. perhaps all these things i see...will simply vanish. as bark vanishes from floating wood.

feeling and discovery

i cannot use words for all of this
and still, i type away on a mini machine

voices laughing, yelping indiscernible
language i don't know
a silver cat says hello in front of me
it is his.her perpetual hello
it is that's reminder

smoke fills lungs that used to be clean
thoughts fill a soul that used to be pure
i throw lead into the air
and dance among my short coming
the target is much too far!
the target is much too small!

i land beyond arm's length.

among mist and dampness
i plant seeds
that may never awaken to golden leaves shuddering in the light of day and moon.
an immense disappearance
an immense unknowningness

the mark cannot be seen
nor can it be touched or tasted

i go forward
with disregard for all that makes the others shrivel cringe and scowl
i go back
with diregard for all that makes my insides swirl and whirl and move outwardly
toward the weathered, stained and unkept tips of my own feeling and discovery

i am a whisper in my own ears

though...

i scream.