A stomach ache has been annoying me for days now and is still hassling me as I write this. A case of nerves is the diagnosis - with no cure in sight. This irritating way in which I deal with stress is a real drag, to say the least.

I keep reminding myself of John Keats' theory of Negative Capability and how successful people are able to reside in the unknown or unresolved without tossing their cookies. Then, of course, I berate myself for not being one those successful sorts who can allow conflict and uncertainty to wash off their backs like yesterday's morning shower suds. Be in the mystery, I remind myself, throw away the need to find rational explanations for everything. My mantra is: move into receptive intuition, open up to all possibilities...yeah, easier said then done.

I could give you a list of what is gripping me at the moment, but I won't do that to you; it's a long list. I'd rather just say, if you are squeezed by the grip of doubt, uncertainty, fear, or if someone you care about has upset you, take heart, you're not alone. Many, many souls that have come before us have lived in the great mystery and some even wrote about it. Sometimes just knowing others struggle with the same things makes the struggle a little easier to bear.

untitled found poem - wordy exercise might surprise

melodies marauding messages

applauding man- hiding

behind mirrored awnings

manly voices, violent vices

masculine music, masks like a lion

canoes are colliding

roars in your elbow

bows at the choir

reeks and perspires -

masked deceptions, played like a pirate

packed in a suitcase, led to an island

maniacal hobbit trapped like a pigeon

caged in a door jam

pounced from a dungeon

Hearsay -

I say

he said that I’ll pay

heretic

predicates

as he insinuates

pretense is self-hate

perpetuates, manipulates

twists his fatal

choices can’t quite liberate that

itchy nose irritates

take back that angry day

no longer in a trance

he sank his only chance

fat chance he’ll understand

how I can take a stand

put him in that exiled place

I will not, cannot oscillate

who needs to populate?

allow others to manipulate!?

fuck that!

not willing to smile and wait!!

clings to his tribal ship –

plank – splat, he fell from it

scratched from decaying waste

landfill of mashy taskmasters

slip past the wolf’s fierce claws

untangle mired laws

stick to that band of mine

tear off the scab to

heal, dry the crying eyes

drink some wine

take some time

Proverbs 13:20 - He who walks with wise men will be wise, but the companion of fools will suffer harm.

I've been thinking a lot about the quote, "show me your friends and I'll tell you who you are." I wonder if it's always true? I believe it's usually true, but I know there are many friendships that are geared around companionship or shared activities that only reflect a small part of your personality. For example, at my gym, everyday around lunch time a diverse group of men meet to play basketball. They definitely have the love of basketball in common, but not necessarily anything else. Some may be married, some single. Some educated, some tradesmen. Some are younger, some older. There are many differences that can be observed on the surface that negate that notion of birds of a feather, flock together. Can a statement like that be definitive?

If you want to raise your tennis game, play with better players. The same holds true in other areas of life. Intellectuals discuss different things than laborers. But, what perplexes me most is the question: how do you know when all the common denominators that once held your friendship together are completely gone? What about the friends you once knew and enjoyed and have been loyal too, aren't they worth holding onto, even when you have grown in separate directions? Do you just drift into 'once in a while' friends? Stay connected for continuity sake? What is the ultimate cost of that?

I ended a friendship recently for many reasons, but the most important reason was because I knew this friend was deliberately trying to hurt me. The mean streak reared its ugly head and I nipped it before it showed up again. There are a lot of things in life we can't control, but allowing someone to beat you up is not one of them. No amount of meanness, verbal abuse or otherwise will be tolerated or allowed to continue, ever. I've put up with a lot of annoyances in order to keep some friendships alive, but I absolutely will not put up with intentional harm, even if it's merely a by-product of someone else's insecurity. I'll get secure friends.

Talking with a friend the other day I mentioned, if we only looked for perfect friends we'd never have any. However, as I grow older and become more discerning, the line between bearable and optimal is growing that much wider. Optimal friendships allow for honest communication, enjoyment and a feeling that you've been lifted up after you're with them. There is a sense of calm and ease and usually laughter when your with the right people, or "your people." Bearable friendships are forced, inauthentic and filled with far too much compromise and tongue biting. They are draining, more work than their worth, and end up costing you way too much on every level.

So the next logical question is this: What do you do when you are in between that wide gap of having some or none, but what you do have is definitely not what you want? Embrace the loneliness until a new one comes along? Tolerate an old one? The one thing I've learned for sure is, you can't change someone, no matter how much you want to, try to, or how much they acknowledge that they want and need to change. Change truly comes from within - though pressure from without can encourage it along.

I'm still in a dreamy state from my ultra relaxing yoga class today. I swear the entire class fell asleep during Savasana, including me. I could tell from the dazed and confused looks on all their faces, as if woken from a delicious dream.

I'm listening to a medley of New Orleans Jazz in anticipation of a friend's visit at the end of the month when we'll be dining at Ralph Brennan's Jazz Kitchen. There is something dreamy, romantic and festive about those horns that seem to seep into your soul and elevate your mood even when it's already in a peaceful state. Part party, part entertainment mixed with adventure and danger, just like the friend I'm seeing. My imagination conjures up hot southern nights, weeping willows glowing under misty lantern light, bourbon, silver shakers full of potent punch and men smoking cigars in black blazers.

My friend asked me what inspires me and the words irony, tragedy, and genuine heroics came to mind. Strange for a romantic poet I'm thinking. Then again, perhaps not. Many great things have been written with those three at the center. The harder thing to figure out is: the more we clamor after the answers, trying to grasp a piece of one, even when we know our attempts are going to be futile, the further away they slip. It's the mysteries that boggle the brain. The more we want to connect the dots the more the whole thing looks like an unending ink blot bleeding into endless forms. If only we could make sense of the light surrounding the dark spots.