Tag Archives: meaning of life

Birth in Existential Anxiety

Maybe I was born with existentialism in my blood stream
maybe I was born to die,
we were all born to die.
I have existential crises as I grocery
shop. I have existential crises with Harris Teeter grocery bags
in my hands
walking home with bread and milk.
I have existential crises as I walk by sleeping bums on wet
park benches as I stare out across
a bleak city
with bleak desires and more concern
for politics and war than meaning and life,
is this all there is. Is there meaning
in everything you do. Is this all
there will ever be
are you happy with your choices
your eyelashes
your patterns of sleep.
Quiet the world is.
Are the sounds of the city
the speeding rubber the blinking lights
is it skeletons shaking their brittle bones
are these dinosaur cranes meant to be our gateway
to heaven
are these sandy underground parties meant to be our hallway
to hell.
So uneasy.
So unsettled.
Was I born to become anything.
Does my cat have more meaning then me.
Does talking to my cat make me crazy,
Cassady where is the meaning in your life,
are you happy, am I crazy (yes) (aren’t we all),
should I ramble on to a therapist because I have no friends,
anxiety makes your internal emotions
the ones that reside in your organs
Should I move to the sea.
What if I was the sea
would I still ebb and flow, would I have meaning.
Was I born to become anything.

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The ballet

Stuck in a downward circle like
a dancing, dying cockroach or
a spoon stuck in a garbage disposal.
Stuck in this excitement and hip
hopping around all the living that
has yet to happen. Spend the next
day slugging back black Costco brand
coffee, batting eyes, resting my
face on greasy hands and
waiting to be more awake.
So I can live.

If I had my own business
cards they would read Professional
Sleepwalker, they would be black
with white ink
and I would hand them out to
all the other zombies
and ghouls that walk
with me wherever I go
among the mist
among the tall thin trees
where we play hide and seek
with our souls.

Why do cockroaches run
from the light
why can’t I stop thinking about you
why won’t we get an exterminator
to make it all stop.
I need a soul exterminator to make
all the bad things stop.
Could I make a cockroach
ballet and dress them all
up in ivory and pink dresses
and make them dance,
charge admission,
and be one of those weird
and abnormal sideshows
next to the main tent
with the elephants and lions
and crazy haired men.

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To accept

Realize that you made things the way they are because of how
frightening it can be to have dreams and to go after remarkable
dreams – to keep your dreams in an open jar at your bedside.

Feel disconnected. Feel like you’re crazy: just hold on. Hold on
to your mother, to your father, to the memories of your
grandmother with wrinkled frail hands – to hold on tightly.

Don’t put bravery to bed. Shake it, and wake it up. Be incredible,
be your own best masterpiece every single day. And be the best
damn street sweeper that you can be – to accept who you are.

Climb the mountains in your life, becuase when you stand at the
summit that feeling of insignificance, of catching your breathe,
of wonder and honor and fear – to accept who you are becoming.

Be okay when everything is not right, with loneliness, with distant
empty hope. Know that the longing strengthens and awakens you – to
accept the days and moments and breaths that you have been given.

To speak softly, to touch gently, to let go, and to live.

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This is everything

I believe in God
in the holy layers of the Universe
I believe in Jack Kerouac and the Beats
the Fate that exists to get me where I am meant to exist
I believe in sweet people who are there
who tell me I am Weird.

I believe in my Father
I believe in my Mother who gave
birth to me
I believe in making mistakes
in solitude
gentle Wilderness
in going down so deep
but always crawling out.

I believe in the Good and the Bad
in making mistakes
seeking happiness
and the importance of Self.

I believe in rebirth
I believe in pushing yourself
I believe in Passion
in hunger
in heartbreak
in panic attacks
in dark places
and in finding the Light.

I believe in holy nights
and the even more holy sunrise:

this is Life
this is all there is
all there will ever be
this is everything.

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Life is not quiet.
Life is loud.
Let it be loud.
Let it burst and rumble,
ravage and smoke,
let it tremble and tumble,
let it shake, let it jangle.

Never try to quiet your life,
give it speakers,
give it amplification.

Stand steadfast, but be ready
to be moved,
be ready to run.
Be ready for the crash
of the ocean waves,
be ready for the chirping birds,
the sirens that make you stand still
and freeze,
wondering who they are for
and who they are taking away.
Be ready for the silence of the
friendly touch,
be ready for soft conversations
and comfort.
Be ready to be rattled.

You were born to live a messy,
troublesome, graceful, awakening life.
Let it be loud.

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Henry Miller, and the meaning of Life

Photo I took recently at the Philadelphia Magic Gardens.

Photo I took recently at the Philadelphia Magic Gardens.

I don’t often share what’s going on in my life, my really personal and up-close emotions, feelings, trials, and what I spend my days doing, but that’s my narrative and that is what shapes and perpetuates the creativity, the words and the formation of the poems that I do share.

It’s time I start sharing my narrative, in bits and pieces, the “author’s perspective,” if you will. Because every great writer has a background that they should not hide, that the reader wants to know, that shapes them and their writing into greatness – and by no means am I a great writer, but I hope to one day be something close to that…

It’s been a really rough Spring, a really rough Year to be honest. I’ve been very unhappy. I’ve been very overworked. I don’t feel appreciated and I am not moving towards becoming a better person. I’ve had several different chronic and somewhat scary health problems come up, which I’m still struggling to understand and deal with. But I’m coming out of these shadows in one piece, successful in my work, and looking forward to having the freedom to be happy and allowing myself to be okay. I’m not quite there yet; I still have some changes to make, hard ones that I really wish I didn’t have to. But I will come out of this okay, and surely I will have learned something.

Henry Miller wrote: “This is the greatest damn thing about the universe, that we can know so much, recognize so much, dissect, do everything, and we can’t grasp it.”

On the verge of this momentous pendulum shift that I feel is coming in my life, I have so much excitement for it and the things that lie ahead. I do realize, though, my need to practice simple existence and living where I am now, not always having my mind dreaming about what is to come, but just being here now.

Reflecting on what Henry Miller said, it’s so true. That struggle of wanting to just grasp and know what’s coming, what your future holds, what is going to make you laugh and what is going to bring tears to your eyes.

But why do we so desperately want to know? So that we can make changes to make the future more in our favor? So that we can prepare for those moments, lessen the pain, have tissues ready when we need to cry? What’s the fun in that, in knowing where you’re going to be in six months, or two years, or forever down the road.

That is what makes life worth living: the not knowing where you’re going, who you’re going there with, and what you’ll do and say and be and believe. THAT is the beautiful magic of this mystery thing we call Life.

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Meaning of Life


In August I went on an adventure. I’ve dreamed of seeing the vastly heaven pointed redwood forests in all their lush and reddish brown glory, so I flew across the country to Portland and made my way down the Oregon coast with a pit stop to camp at the base of Mt Hood, hiked through and camped among the perfect redwoods, and ended up in Jack Kerouac’s old hood of San Francisco. It was a glorious trip. When people close to my, really, just my mother, asked me why I was going on that trip and why I was going alone, I told them (her) that I was soul searching. I wanted to find myself. (And I did, the first night I camped in a completely desolate campground alone in the woods in the dark. I found myself scared shitless, but I still found my true courageous, brave and daring self…)

So often I think to myself – and I have a feeling that much of the world, or at least the American culture, often thinks this way too – wondering who I really am. What I’m doing with my life. I’m trying to find my soul. I’m seeking out what would really make me happy. I want to know what this, this life, my life, is all about.


You know what I think, what I realized? We already have the meaning of life. YOU are the meaning of life. I am the meaning of life. The meaning of life is our happiness, the pain we feel deep down inside, it’s warm family hugs, it’s truly feeling love and loved, it’s lust, it’s forgiveness, it’s failing, and it’s getting back up and trying again. The meaning of life can be found in sweet and glittery candy stores, it can be found standing at the edge of the sea staring out into the gray nothingness at the horizon, it can be found looking up at the sky when you’re in the mountains and feel so damn close to what’s out there and you feel so damn small. The meaning of life is feeling contentment in a moment, it’s sharing laughter with good friends, it’s exchanging a smile with a passing stranger. It’s also feeling real fear, god-forbid you feel true gut wrenching heartbreak but it’s that too, and anger that drives you mad you literally punch a hole in your wall out of frustration. Life is feeling young when your fifty. Life is growing old and getting wrinkles. Life is living on your own and supporting yourself for the first time in a big city in your early twenties. Life is watching the passing of lives and then you’re gone. The meaning of life is YOUR LIFE.

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