CHOICES

~Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina~
(Nov. 17th 2008)

I am in one of those slightly discontent moods that I can't quite shake; not solid enough to have beauty in its melancholy or light enough to be banished by an overnight bus ticket or sickly sweet espresso and postcards to loved ones. Today I had a moment of total dislocation, discordance, and the jangle of nerves like I imagine the snap of a guitar string to be. A perplexed jolt of, 'what am I doing here?'

Usually in moments like these, making art or others happy (same thing? what is more creative than love...) brings color back to my eyes. While writing doesn't carry the visceral release of paint or toxic photo chemicals, its the best I can do in this moment as I huddle over a cafe heater. I spill words over torn out book pages to honor my emotions in a plea or prayer for a more intentional life. In this "prayer", I try to be glad that I can feel anything if not the emotions I would choose.

Re-reading what I'd written reminds me of a poem by Nikki Giovanni that I love:

CHOICES

If i can't do
what i want to do
then my job is to not
do what i don't want
to do

It's not the same thing
but it's the best i can
do


If i can't have
what i want . . . then
my job is to want
what i've got
and be satisfied
that at least there
is something more to want


Since i can't go
where i need
to go . . . then i must . . . go
where the signs point
through always understanding
parallel movement
isn't lateral


When i can't express
what i really feel
i practice feeling
what i can express
and none of it is equal


I know
but that's why mankind
alone among the animals
learns to cry