running home to…

Monday eve – the Sun has vanished behind the Ocean, light fades, one more walk along the tide line and I will be on my way back to the Mission.

I look out my window & see the people running, playing with their dogs, and as always think of Bean. A handful of her ashes are out there somewhere, mixed with the Sea, with the sand. Other parts of her are in The Enchanted Forest, a special place I found off the trail, and another handful went up with the Temple at Burning Man in ’06.

The rest of her, along with parts of her jaw bone, dried lillies, and other sacred keepsakes are on the dashboard of my new home. She is always with me…

It’s been a beautiful few days here, almost like a small vacation. In a motorhome it is so different than driving a car here – so much better – almost like I have a nice weekend rental at the beach, but it’s not a rental, it’s my home & I can come back here any time I wish – walk along the Ocean, go to the Archery Range in Golden Gate Park, just a short walk away.

This is perfect – almost. The only thing that would make it better would be someone to share it with. Someone, or Bean…

So many yesterdays float through my heart. So many gray skies & so much beauty. Every day was touched with magick.

I’m still trying to figure out today, & still dream about tomorrow. Thinking that there is no reason why the magick shouldn’t be in these days, as well, but there is a stagnant heart inside this boy, & I need to get back on the road – put today in the rearview & go on the search for a thousand tomorrows, visit old friends, find new ones, & make CultureFlux what it was created for – created by a hopefull romantic.

In the black of night, rolling along the road, nothing but the beautiful beat of the white lines flying by on a two lane highway on the road to the next adventure…

I love the Sea, it is mother, home – but the road is where I belong…

Ladies & Gentlemen, Children of All Ages…

It is ingrained in our imagination, our memories & dreams, and even, perhaps, our darkest fears.

It is the primal calling of the child who for some glorious reason doesn’t “fit in” with the rest – who has different dreams, who sees a world with more possibilities, who looks at everything with a bit more wonder, a brighter shine in their eyes…

This is for those who know what a dream is worth. The outcasts. The visionaries, fantasizers, the few who still believe in romance…

We all have, in our own way, run away with, and run home to –  The Circus.

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