Author Archives: Eric Walker

The old roaring me

The old roaring me, the one that lives off gut:

the original face of my true intuitions
the one that knows before it listens
the one with instincts that don’t lie

that small being of my already always conversations
that almost knows what I already sense, and finds its way
through frozen mud, hunting through cold darkness by scent

where my thoughts cross unmarked snow toward home.

That’s the old roaring me
the one that lives off gut

Something valuable around the corner

They drew first blood. They put the knife in. So I can accuse them, right?

No, that’d be too easy.

Because I know there’s a kernel of truth in what they say. That is why I have to face what’s under my armor of anger. Otherwise if left unchecked, the negative self talk will twist their knife in further.

And damn! I’m pissed that I need to expend all of this energy to witness my feelings, and break the unhealthy patterns and reroute them so it’s not a highway to hell. It’s a dirt road to heal.

But if I don’t, I fall apart. Am I falling apart now?

No! I’m finding worth in this small moment just noting this to myself. “Noting” these feelings stops the chatter. Like it’s in its own compartment now.

This is my truest voice. I trust it. When I have found these deepest of feelings, I’m fortunate that I trust, and have always trusted, this voice as my true North.

I’m going to keep coming to this blog because good lord! I am finding myself here again. One million intricate moves.

I’ll be unpacking this for as long as it took to arrive. There’s peace in that clarity, at least. That makes me stronger.

Done with counseling because it feels like emotional prostitution without end. Done with talking to my usual people, too. I’m tired of hearing my voice dull their listening.

But here, writing at this blog. I trust myself. Something valuable is right around the corner.

I want to live to be 100 years

I’m 41 years old. My six year old son took this picture on November 11, 2017.

As far back as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to live to be 100 years old.

The cool thing is that with new and improving advancements in anti-aging technology and supplementation – and good ole fashioned exercising, training, eating and resting well – living to be 100 years old will be common for those of us who want to live that long.

And, not just by adding years to our lives, but by adding life to our years. I hear wise people say that often.

Don’t get me wrong – I still like to have a drink, an occasional social cigarette, ice cream, and I don’t say no to the bacon burger basket and chocolate shake at Culvers drive thru when the occasion presents itself. I also LOVE one good spliff!

Who doesn’t like to enjoy themselves and indulge once in a while?

I don’t care if it’s alcohol, tobacco, marijuana, candy, cake, ice cream, or fast food – as much as I’m an advocate of good health and fitness – I am also an advocate of enjoying life, even if that includes “guilty pleasures.”

The saying, “Everything in moderation even moderation” resonates with me.

Never let anyone guilt you into living a way that you don’t want to. Also, don’t guilt yourself.

Having resolve to live life the way we want is our born pursuit.

For the people who don’t approve? I respectfully let that be their problem, not mine.

We are adults. Love is the law and there is no limit. Remarkable communication can get us there. Let us not give our power to people, circumstances, and situations that don’t deserve, or warrant it.

As long as I stay active, fit, and healthy most of the time, I think I am doing well.

I indulge a bit, slow down for a moment, and speed right back up again.

Sometimes, this practice can be stimulating for my soul. It keeps me honest and allows me to be human.

The key is to find that sweet spot, discover balance, and figure out what works for me, not anybody else. It ebs and flows and changes with the seasons.

I will keep practice at living life on good terms with myself, and witness my happiness continue to exponentially increase.

As I get older, I just want to be around good people. People who are good ‘to’ me, good ‘for’ me and good for my soul. Anything less? no thanks.

The Pen

The hand swims while the pen glides.

The cold glass brightens and warms.

The rug has a biography.

Unsaid words grow power, wish to speak out.

Ideas gather. The bones rise.

A face is a life and a place is a story.

Everything speaks, or is powered by silence.

Dreams are nudged forward.

The pen is numb with haste, but calm with plenty.

Sure, there’s labor. Sweat drips off elbows.

The words will need tuning, but the pen!

The pen shouts out loud. The pen is happy.

Only a kiss left to share

That moment.
that small, small moment
when what is left
is not to say a word
because there is only a kiss
to share, a kiss
that has grown in-between
hours of conversing.
an open mouth
kiss that lingers quietly
like a hopeful prayer,
and leaning in begins
a slow motion episode
of glistening lips,
hips, smooth thighs,
loosened hair, desire
that knows no hesitation.

When she asks about my so called “mistakes”

When she no longer crawls into my early morning bed
like she did this morning, she will still want to talk
like we’re on the pillow, and she will ask me about

the so called “mistakes” I have made.

I will explain the way people and ideas have arrived
into my life, how that has brought both love and hurt.
I won’t explain – nor could I explain – the difference.

Sometimes you won’t be able to tell at first glance, I’ll say.

Then confess one thing I know, which is:

You have to keep living into your mistakes once they arrive
because a mistake has many comings and goings that hold still
the most precious of life before us, and that’s worth it.

Growing up with Ella

This is Ella, 8 years old, almost 9.

She still craves my love, and also – at times – is purposefully mischievous, mouthy and disobedient. She tells me what she is going to do and has a unique way of intoning that that is the un-budge-able way it’s going to be.

I admire it in one sense. It’s a strength, but I also get frustrated. I could squash it. I could set her straight. Yet each time I do, I take the power she is going to need to keep for herself in this world. I don’t want to do that.

I’m learning to pause, wait, be calm and “okay.” I say it like, “Show me…”

Not easy, but simple. The more I do practice that type of response, the more I’m learning to trust her.

I remind myself that my relationship with Ella is the most important female relationship I have.

I love my daughter!

The Best Town In North America

The best north american town

There’s a North American Town where the wild flowers are prettier, and the chickens lay exceptional eggs. Everything is a marvel. Everyone’s color and culture is celebrated with cakes and homemade gifts and drumming and dancing and stories around a big warm fire.

There’s a North American Town that’s a scruffy hot bed of non-conformity full of poetry, music, science, sustainability and “choose-yourself-start-up” people. The town is full of freaks, geeks, old gays, hipster activists, attachment parent enthusiasts, home birth anarchists, former students turned organic farmers; turned coffee roasters; turned vintage denim collectors; turned viral YouTube sensations.

There’s a North American Town full of good music, dive bars, hash bars, juice bars, hot dog stands, drive thru movie theaters, plays, galleries and spoken word performances from the local folks.

There’s a North American Town full of rehabbed & recycled once abandoned buildings that now have solar panels and raised garden beds on the roof. The rent is dirt cheap, and these spaces are filled with creativity. Like beds on wooden pallets, turn tables and guitars in every room, alternative movies on demand, Bukowski poems framed on the wall.

There’s a North American Town where everything is better, where all the children believe their fathers, and the water is cleaner and colder, and the sun is brighter and warmer and best will never be bettered.

Be Like a Poet

Like Thoreau watching ripples on still water.
Like Emily distilling her days into verse.
Like Snyder walking along rivers without end.
Like Whitman bearing poems like children.
Like Homer, a life’s work in just two poems.
Like unknown, wide eyed, big hearted, listeners
who are hungry and witness to the real work.

Believe In Yourself

My Ella drew this at age five. She won’t be an artist someday. She’s an artist now.

What I love to do isn’t something I will be someday. It’s living inside of me right now.

I was born with love and passion, talent and strengths. So were you. We don’t have to wait until some future unknown day for that truth to be actualized. We are living, breathing works of art. Now. Complete and rich, creative and capable. Beyond the restraints of Resistance in our mind. Beyond the fear that lies beneath.

Believe in yourself.

How do you believe in yourself if you don’t believe in yourself?

My experience has required many mistakes. I acknowledge mistakes as little pieces of feedback necessary to grow and learn. Most people are afraid of making mistakes. We were conditioned to be afraid of mistakes as kids.

The things I thought I’d most fear have come to pass. They aren’t comfortable, but as I keep accumulating mistakes, I’ve begun to embrace them. Each time a little bit of fear is let go.

So in order to believe in yourself, consider making more mistakes. It sounds counter intuitive. Yet doing so allows us to remove things that hold us back.

How do you make more mistakes?

Do things you love. Things like …

  • Pursue an ideal career
  • Start your own business
  • Stick to important habits
  • Get married, raise a family
  • Ask that attractive person to a date
  • Burn black holes in dark memories
  • Assert yourself in an area of life
  • Push past your comfort zone

Do any of the above, you will make mistakes. You will screw it up.

It’s completely fine to try and fail, to put yourself out there, not be perfect, to say hello to someone and have them not instantly love you, to do something and have people judge you. Do this long enough and you will come to realize how great you were all along.