The Kevin Landry

There are things, signs, movements in the water. Most are so very unnoticable to the untrained eye (do you see?).  And it begs us to pay attention to destiny. Yes, we have every right to go on living our lives blind to them.

There are a few men and women in history that have affected destiny, their's being a destiny to affect it. And the only reason I can see that its necessary...NECESSARY, is for the good of someone else. Whether singularly or corporately.

A man risks a line at a bar to a wall flower, not even pretty to herself. She comes with smiles and pretty petals that smell nice, waiting to be noticed by someone, especially herself. And maybe, just maybe, she left her apartment that night just to give it one more shot. And this brave soul, risking what he can, sits beside her and simply says 'hi'...and they might Love happily ever after.

And a woman, seeking the ease of her own soul reaches out to an office friend, A female. Who in her own life is at the age where husbands die and wives are thrown back into being single. She has grown children whom don't live at home anymore. They have lives of their own. She is young enough to date and maybe find another...but why? Her life (the office mate) is spent going to work from home, errands and keeping up with a life that she never asked for but was dealt. She wonders where her years went and how many she has left. In the back of her mind she believes its over, but- In the middle of a work day, a fire alarm is pulled. The sprinkler system is activated. All others rush away from the wet, but she stays. Points her face to the ceiling and let's the 'rain' wash her office face away, revealing her true self. The woman comes to her, and 'friendily' kisses her on the lips in non-lesbian fashion. Just wanting to connect with that feeling that exists where life was not about having a man in her life, but simply living. And the two souls searching, awaken again. Experiencing Love again, in a completely different connection.

And a man who has followed signs all his life. Unrespected and misunderstood by his family and close friends runs from a cab down a freeway. He doesn't know why he is running, but for his life, he runs. He happens upon a fresh accident, a car in the water. Without a thought, without a micro-second of hesitant behavior, completely bereft of fear- he dives in. After seconds he emerges with two young girls. They scream that their father is still in the car, now all the way under water. He takes his final breath and goes under. Their father comes to the surface..but he doesn't.
A disapproving brother whom has freshly been awakened by the weirdness he sees in this man dives in, looking for his brother desperately. A minute passes as he breaks out of the water, screaming for help, his brother is unresponsive. Medics arrive on the scene and begin to attempt to save the sign-follower's life. An age passes- His brother crying, thinking he has lost something he just minutes ago discovered was most precious to him. Suddenly a cough, a gag, and life returns to the running man.


What does it take to be fearless? Answer these. What does it take to see what destiny is ours that can and will affect someone else. And when the time comes for action, in an instant, will- we- be- ready? Or will we grab our cell phone and call for help? The practice is the perfection. The risk is what we ignore but see everyday when we go to work, to the store, to church. It's the meaning behind everything we walk away from saying, " I should've done this..I should've said that."

And the only difference between 'yours' and 'ours' is a 'why'.

It's not about what can we do. It's about what will we do. To fail is to be practicing. And like Fabian, Doveau, Kent, Michelangelo, etc- practice makes perfect.

So illustrate your life. Make your masterpiece.

Thank you Kevin Landry.

Alegorical Hypothalmic Agoraphobia

Just walking outside for a moment. That tree- In the morning, sunning from the east its like a christmas tree in summer. And when i fiddle my keys and duck under it, sunning from the west, it feels like dry ice melting.

Right now i cant imagine a stable and happy life. What patterns lead you there? The openness of normal? Ive spent the past few days arguing by myself if im indeed a mockery of whats is innocent and pure in this world. Sometimes my smallest son doesnt want to be with me..what does that mean?

(Where is She? Why did She take so long to get here and leave?)

" Ive been waiting, waiting for this moment all my life. But its not quite right." Tiny blue speakers shouting the true truth to me. The only thing tuned in right now, unless im being felt by someone far away and out of influence no doubt. Im not denying, im just...sad.

I want to fly. Just want to push both blue speakers in and up. So its not like dissappearing, just going away. Just find a thundercloud to hide in, something that falls and leaps with the tempo of my own soul. Maybe be close enough to heaven that John could make out the tear tracks as im not wiping them away. And for these past few days emotions overtake me at the simplest of things. Good music, speed, the thought of 'being good', the needs i could and never will meet.

Its like a transition of an extroverted person becoming a recluse. White walls like a soft cocoon, its just me in here- wow, wow. (So this is what it feels like to...and im wide awake).

I feel a calling in me. The death of spirit and flesh and a very finalizing event showing previews in dreams. I dont even regard them as nightmares, so strange and peaceful. (Why am i ok with this?)

And ive been deep-breathing all day. Long 'sighs', i dont feel ok with myself. I write the entire algorhythm for my lifes path on a whiteboard, knowing ill be the only one ever in this room. Knowing also that She'll find it somehow and mess with my calculations, laughing her ass off, of course. (Please, leave my whiteboard alone, please? Unless you have the courage to really face your fears all at once. Its just not funny anymore...i, am, dying- do you see?)

*hold on, ill be back. I gotta try and get some lazy Friday work done. These guys are actually depending on me and i LOVE wearing dependability.

Some things never change, and some things do

" It IS a kiss...a powerful thing."

Shyly and sadly, she walks away from the open window," But, I don't know how to fly."

" Come with me and I'll show you the way to a thousand stars. We'll swim naked in the sea of rings until our skin turns sea blue-green. We'll race around Orion's belt and fly so fast the solar winds turn our hair an angel white. I'll show you where the dragons were made and taught to fly. Where they burned the first heaven and the ash became the things in which deity found a reason to die."

Pensive, he steps out onto the sill and looks down," Come, as soon as I find my happy thought- and a reason to believe in fairies...this might take a while."

Watch "Heart's A Mess - Gotye {Lyrics}" on YouTube

Unborne Pearls

I met a girl, she was a non-sensical sort of quirky. Not my 'type' but nonetheless, greatly valuable, as we all are, Lovely souls. She showed me a piece of her jewelry, a necklace with a trite pendant. It struck my heart like a mad cupid with nemesis intent.

Upon seeing the piece, I was taken, captivated by an emotion so familiar to me as I choose to see it day by day. Something I live with like an appendage I can never lose or get rid of. Like thinking as a child I used to ride my bike so fast expecting to crash. Seeing the limit of ability to take sharp corners or beat cars out of their driveways. Knowing always the inevitability of an accident of some sort. Also knowing I'd never hurt this one piece of me, so the risk assessment to me was as an upside-down penny.

I collected some pictures with my phone and she emailed a couple as well. She told me the story of where it came from, mentioning the phrase 'aborted pearls'. It was that phrase that compounded my thoughts about it. It was a gift from her guy he picked up from one of those romantically situated tents at Burning Man. Him being an easily connectable soul too (LOVE these people). After the conversation, I settled into a form of very conscious meditaion. The music and physical clatter became shades of sepia and grayscale. I looked around the room at all these people I Love so dearly. Connecting with each one of them on varying levels. Feeling ALL things at once, but noticing also the hidden things. You must know, among all circles I make myself a part of, these are the most open, the most genuine. But for some reason whether past childhood experience in rejection, intrinsic upbringing or other forms of emotional matter that make us up as we grow, they still seemed to feel that need to keep behind closed doors the darker things. I connected deeply on the matter with a beautiful, BEAUTIFUL soul that night- but that's another piece for another time. I was a little saddened- let me explain: I was born without the 'hide' gene. To not wear my emotions on my person like summer clothing has been something I cannot do, no matter how hard I try to be 'guarded'. Maybe I feel my mistakes and dark closets are there to house others with similar experiences. I wear them on the outside so maybe they might feel a little less human (figure that one out on your own time :)). So to relate on the the matter of feeling this need to hide escapes me. But that night, like others, I looked into their eyes and made myself metaphysically connected with each one just as deeply as I was emotionally connected with this beautifully sad pendant.

 So you might be asking, " PK...what the f*ck did it look like??!!" HAHA!!! Theres pics below, brothas and sistas.

But this is what I saw: It was the inside of a shell. Maybe a clam or an oyster, I couldn't tell right away. As you can see, it's cut into a shape that leaves an allegorical conclusion. But I'm going with an oyster shell. It had 8...EIGHT unfinished pearls inside with the appearance that they were molded into the body of the shell (if you're starting to feel me, then you're tearing up already. I am). Each one in a line, almost the shape of a question mark (beautiful- just..yea).

 We are all oysters, but not food. Although there are many species of mammals that are much larger and more instinctually lethal than we are. Nature and those that study these things (the name escapes me) regard us as the Apex Predators. The likeness I am seeing is that by instinct, oysters make pearls. Pearls of course are regarded as something we assign monetary value to. They are beautiful gifts to those we Love both romantically and philanthropically, as this piece of jewelry is. A woman feels Love coming from a man giving her pearls, they have that value. But see...US? We do this by trait and choice. We make our pearls and give them by CHOICE, not instinct (would it be instinctual, we would be closer to our Maker than we think). Oysters are not tagged as something we make intricate studies into because they are not popularly interesting to our minds, mostly our appetites (I wonder if we not knowingly see other humans in the same way, think about it a bit then read on). Back to the instinctual creature of delicacy: I found out that when this happens, it actually begins to crowd the inside of the shell. Making the essential vital processes harder and harder. Slowly inhibiting the quality of physical life (are you following? Connect here, please). The more pearls that are 'aborted' the closer this creature comes to death ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ (take a moment, a long pause and realize what is being said. For those not able to follow, the explanation is coming).

What are pearls symbolic of? Popularly wisdom. (I knew a girl once that meant more to me than she knows. Her name meant wisdom...thats also another story, of which I have already written the ending to :)). So in a metaphorical sense we can gather philosophically that we let wisdom die in us if we choose (we are not altogether creatures of instinct alone). Someone might not be allowed a better quality of life should we keep the things inside that we should be saying (speaking of, I have someone I need to be texting right now).

Aside from that and no further metaphors, I'll say this- pearls also resemble natural beauty. This 'beauty' starts as sand (hmmm, some say that's the way we started too). And over long periods of time are formed by these beautiful creatures into these beautiful gifts that adorn our Loved ones. Essentially contributing to their 'beauty' as well. Great toil and grit, taking months of labor sometimes years, produce these CAPTIVATING pieces. I mean, have you ever looked closely at a pearl? Held it close to your eyes until all other things are unfocused? (I do, everyday). They are Precious! Have you ever taken the time to appreciate this little food item's hard work to bring you something so gorgeous? It's mesmerizing, and you dont even have to be high on anything.

 ---YOU, are that oyster. And the beauty inside you are these pearls which you 'hide away' from whom they are intended to adorn. Why? Because we're inperfect. Because they are not 'finished' yet. You keep them inside you because even though life has given you sand and you have toiled the sand into pre-deposited pearls, you feel they aren't ready to be seen yet. And that in some cases is fine. But the world as we have come to be open to doesn't need more perfection. We need no more Supermen or Saviors of humanity. We already have one. Apart from popular opinion, we need to see more open imperfection, because we are all dying. We are all facing that one certain thing, death. But what you and I don't realize is that we start one work inside ourselves and stop. Then another, and another. None of them finished to our liking so we let them stack up forming that question mark. The question all of us have asked ourselves in that dark closet, " Why are we here? Why am I here?" The question only grows by each aborted beautiful thing we form inside ourselves, piece by piece. Taking us further from answering that question. Not realizing they are now so many that they are making our lives impossible to live. Non-purged beauty. Not realizing they are, quite tragically, killing us. And...no...one...knows, not even ourselves (take another pause, please).

The answer to that question of existence, is allowing those unfinished works to be seen. Letting the masks we wear in all communities fall off and revealing to each other the real, torn, flawed, broken and helpless 'you'. (I feel SO MUCH Love for the human race right now. SO many that carry pain. SO many helpless...it pains my heart to SUCH deep sorrow..this might be how He felt at the end).

I beg you, I BEG you- All of you imperfect souls, wear your imperfection like summer clothing. In the summer, you intend to be noticed, you intend to be seen. So instead of wearing what makes you look so good, so put together, (which in turn builds higher that unseen wall that separates us all), wear the unfinished work on the outside. Do you remember seeing something like this? This piece of jewelry that is so unique because its so rare BECAUSE it gives you a picture of the production of adornement. Of what it took to get to 'beautiful'. WEAR EACH OTHER!!! You're SO beautiful, all of you. Your sadness and pain is the beauty that you are dying from. Choose to live and let it be seen. The openness is your alchemy and the answer to us all.


Finally, in a whisper: I know I promised pictures, but you need none. Just go look in the mirror and you'll see what I see, what He sees, what we all need to see. The allegorically-cut you. Do not let beauty (imperfection) die inside you. Do not continue to hide. Do not let the unfinished pearls bring about your death. Show yourself to save your own lives. And lean back and watch it save the lives of many. YOU...matter...to EVERYONE.   

Ugh-

Its days like these i really wish i had someone to come home to..someone stronger than ive ever experienced intimately. Someone stronger than myself.

I

..wish you were here...

New Pain

A night turns to light before sunrise in some tall town, in some thought in the apex of idealism. Dew setting on sleeping crysaline grass waving featherly as if the breeze flowing over them causes them to breathe. Each step, each movement sprinkling our shoes and pant cuffs making all the color in contact become that deeper shade. Like painting in a wet on wet technique. Walking in the shallows, stumbling and balancing along imaginary fences and rail road ties as if on the edge of adulthood before the plunge into normality. Walking with my favorite written personification. Feeling is the canvas of this day. The ability to dream like a passport. The only way to walk here and now.

Auburn colored leaves with edges stained in red in semi-stunted trees glue-sticked across the landscape close to each other. Enough that their leaves speckle the pre-sun day if you were crouching infront of them. Or in a night sky hide the more lucid parts of constellations, like a stellar peepshow. Across the slender roll of the hill down to the pond are a litter of gray rock, no more tall than hobbit holes. Grass trails leading away from each in multiple directions as if they were inhabited for years. The pond, so subtle. Like an infinity factory of sheer soft skin. As if we could lay aside our clothes and risk the brisk chill and be reborn. The ribbonless water mirror imaging the waterbugs, echoing their thoughts across the neverland meadow in forms of crickets and toads. You could almost see back in time from a parallax view, Merlin exchanging common speech with the Lady, taking the sword from her gentle hand. And there they huddled down, all together. The wintered and weathered pair souls. Hen and Heather, Gellhorn and Hemmingway, Thomas and Claire, Val and Ani, looking out at the small'ish pond, morning twilight's chill.

We chose to lay in the meadow lands in that mountain top valley. Wishing it would just rain already. Things should just...be this way. If we could just climb backwards in our skin. Lie here in children's clothes with toys and unpeeled bandaids, french braids and beetle's haircuts- lollippops and Milk Duds. Hold each other in small hands under torn blankets. Just like this. Just like now. And weep all our grown-up pains away into the puddles under the morning grass, the ones that stain our clothes in innocence. We would have that conversation, after the crying, " Does magic really happen?" In a pre-teen boyish manner. Sincere and critical of the possiblity that things imagined actually can happen- They can 'be for reals'. Afterlife, forelife, pre-life are across the way walking slowly, wanting us to notice the delicate details in each of them. The things we never noticed before. Not than anything can be changed, just to appreciate the weaving of the fabric in each path they took and take.

Then it happens, a crack in the sky. A soundless bleet of purest light from the east and over the under shaded trees it comes, the sun. Every color of earth begins to sing their variant radiance. The grey-blue sky lightens its face with swooping strokes from a fan point brush to true blue. The white and grey being cleaned away by one simple thing, far away. Just like what is seen when you ask her to stop squinting her eyes or when she wears dramatic makeup.
Steam dances seductively upward from each stone and blade of grass, sweating off the dew and wet of moss. We take it in like the earths morning smoke break, wetting our noses in makeout sessions with the earth. Discovering each scent, how it tastes and feels. How each scent sounds, heartfully noting the memories spanning our physical random access. Assigning each one a cluster of sensual attributes, displaying talent like an improvisational bartender in a pipe smoke-filled Irish Speak Easy. Just mixing interesting drinks for the future and for now.

No one ever wants it to end. This spectacle has enough emotion to fill the heart of Hades with love for his brothers. And in my mind, it hasn't even begun yet.

Intentions aside, I simply Love this place.