Yolanda Cruz was adjusting a sheer blouse that she bought a couple weeks ago on her trip to Puerto Rico over her ample bosom. She was waiting on Fletcher to throw her his usual hand signal. She was about to blow this human trafficking case wide open, and it couldn't be a hotter night to tell the tale. There were at least three microphones that she could see, as well as the subminature condenser mike that went under her arm-pit, and was kept out of sight from the viewers. Yolanda could feel beads of sweat build in the spots where her hair was pulled back. She could already anticipate the unflinching scrutiny of millions of viewers, and was suddenly suffocated with the responsibility of being a live reporter, and wondered if she could even remember her bit well enough to get through this eleven o'clock segment. She was suddenly possessed with a tickling sensation all over her body that terrified the piss out of her. Fletcher threw up an 'ok' sign meant for her, and Yolanda bloomed like a rose, swiftly turning to aim her body like a gun at the readied cameras that instantly devoured her. She felt a sharp breeze nip at bare flesh, as she leapt instantly into the reporting field, that she attributed to 'getting her groove back'.

"There has been a fourteenth victim that police officers speculate is related with what is thought to be a mass human trafficking scheme that has been recently terrorizing the citizens of Phoenix, Arizona. In an investigation that was prompted by a horrific accident that involved dazed bodies of victims of kidnapping released into traffic on Route 51 at high speeds, a series of clues have been found that connect these victims to recent mysterious deaths and disappearances..."

Directly after finishing her report, Yolanda glanced down with a curious eye. Her right breast had broken loose from the unbuttoned neckline, and become entirely exposed. It stared back at her like a succulent mango, slippery as a jumping fish in the evening heat. The steady flash of cameras was coming on fierce and constant. Her head pounded, as her shocked blind of a face swiftly snapped out of the line of fire out of mad reflex. Yolanda's cheeks burned red, as she slipped her nakedness back into the blouse hurriedly, and turned and hustled back to the white news van without a second to glance back.

Slamming the car door tightly from the world, Yolanda shuddered, and clasped her knees to her stomach while she waited on her assistant. She sank ever deeper into the imitation leather of the seat, leaning her head as far back as possible, lulling herself into a false sense of comfort.

*

Pinkman had not had the bad dreams in quite sometime now. He had been slowly losing interest in his life in Arizona. Being a salesman was going nowhere for him. There was nothing but ghosts of Joseph's old life, so he decided to venture outside the board. He took a flight to Michigan, and settled down in a small lumber town called Rawsonville. It was easy to find hard labor there, and before long he was working in a factory slapping the packaging on cat food. It was a living that allowed him a small reward a couple nights a week, allowing him to treat himself to a twelve pack at Ralph's. One Thursday, after he had absently tossed a couple of Molson's in his cart, and was drifting over to the deli, he abandoned his cart at the veggie cooler out of instinct to try the first type of fruit that jumped out at him. He was leaving it all up to chance, allowing the first sight of ingenuity in natural colors and textures tickle his fancy. That was when Pinkman saw the back of a woman's head instead, and it turned a faucet on in his mind to a slow trickle. The trickle turned into a massive flood of imagery which started to saturate Joseph Pinkman's parched and otherwise deserted skull.

That woman with the raven black hair! Who was she?!? He spun around, and looked to see if anyone else had noticed her. Her black dress was puffed at the shoulders, and flowing magnificently behind her, almost too lavish for your everyday trip to the grocery store. She looked back in his direction, and it was then that without any question he knew her. He knew who she was instantly without having to take another raspy breath of uncertainty, or draw closer. It was Lise, the love of his life.

A salesperson from Ralph's seemed to notice his shock and confusion, and instantly approached him from a row of carts to the left. He had a red apron on, and black rimmed glasses that reflected lights from the store, but completely obscured his own eyes from Joseph. He gripped Pinkman's wrist in a vice, and whispered into his stunned face.

"I've been running, running non-stop, like a rabbit all day, so I know what it's like to be in a hurry, son. I have to recommend you melt that urge for just a minute or two, though. It's the best thing you can do at this indefinite moment. I promise you that. God's honest truth."

Pinkman slackened under the Ralph employees icy grip. He felt sick and dizzy, and tried desperately to steady himself without going unconcious, and turning to putty in this strangers hands. Craning his neck, he tried to get a better view of the store employee.

"What did you say?...Who are you?"

"Oh, yes, Sir, I'm Doug Pithe. I was just informing you of our 50% off on all 'Holy Ghost Chicken' lunch-meat from Sara Linn. Just let the Deli know that Mr. Pithe, the Manager sent you."

Pinkman stalked off towards the woman in black, brushing off the Ralph employee, and passing an aisle of lemons that was arranged by weight. When directly behind the woman, he allowed his hot breath to spill down the neck of her blouse. He did not dare touch her neck, but he could see the fringes of her black dress, and her slim figure that came together with a gorgeous set of buns, elevated, and pointing directly at Pinkman's crotch level. He pulled out his swiss army knife, unfolded the blade, and without hesitation, stuck it into her left side, yanking the blade out with some trouble, and stabbing her again, turning the blade as he rended the wounded flesh. Lise screamed, and the scream turned into a gurgle. Pinkman used his right hand to whip her body around. There was blood trickling down her lips as he plunged the knife into her right eye-ball, sinking it deep, until he felt it press through her brain. As she quickly died in his arms, customers started yelling things at him, and themselves in confused desperation. He shook himself out of the trance he was under, and realized that instead of the olive skin that he had known Lise for, this woman was black. He felt sick to his stomach, and let her body pitch face forward to the floor. A pool of blood started instantly forming around the discarded body. Banging against product, and knocking things loose from aisles, Joseph Pinkman shot like a arrow to the back of the store where there was a less utilized exit. Lucky for him, people were too stunned to know what to do. As he staggered onto the iced streets, he saw one of those sad Santa Claus's with the threadbare beards that looked too thin to be real, banging away with his bell for Salvation Army. Pinkman tossed him a dime before bolting for his car in the parking lot. The Santa opened a toothless mouth, exposing blackened gums in what Pinkman took for a smile. It only served to remind him of his fluctuating mortality. A bit of saliva dribbled from the sneery Santa's smile, as he gave Pinkman a water-logged wink from canary tinted eyes.

It is morning. Pinkman's in a parking lot of some sort. It is night again. It is morning. He is sitting outside of some white mansion. It is black. It is morning. Something has happened to Pinkman, and altered his ability to process his surroundings. He looks around, trying to inhale anything and everything through his eye holes and record it for posterity in his dented brain-box. A woman with bunny ears on is waiting for him with a plastered on smile when the driver opens the door and pulls him out of the cab. She reaches out a small gloved hand and places her hand in his. Pinkman feels instant warmth, and connection. She wants him to help her, he can tell. It is night. Pinkman is inside the mansion now, and the bunny-eared girl is massaging his hand as he continues to lay spread out on a red leather loveseat that's made to look like a race car. She is going through her nightly routine, ordering the help to groom her dog, but there is something subliminal in her actions. She snorts a line from another girls coffin ring standing behind her, and then gets his attention by staring deep into Joseph Pinkman's eyes and tickling his chin with a long fingernail, before rising, and encouraging Pinkman to rise with a shake of her bunny tail. The masked girl motions towards a sliding wall of books that reveals a spiral staircase that descends into darkness below the earth. There is a seductive tune emanating from the abyss, and the scent of perfume that keeps him locked in the progress of his descent. Now everything goes dark except for torches embedded in the wall appearing from time to time. At this time Pinkman's practically convinced that on the basis of such dramatics he is bound to meet some grand Poobah of some sort. Either Hugh Hefner or Attila the Hun, whoever it was, it would prove to be quite the reveal.

"Down the rabbit hole." The woman snickers back at him in the dark as Pinkman continues to follow her.

After Pinkman hears the cryptic quote from the playgirl he grabs for her bushy bunny tail in the pitch black, and is greeted with a folded note that he quickly squirrels away. The air is getting progressively colder in this odd tunnel. Pinkman's sure that he will get to where he's going soon. He hears a door slide open to the right of him, and is lead to a ladder that stops at a ceiling. He pushes the wooden ceiling stopper out of the way, and rolls a bit of rug up. He is starting to recall being in this strange place before, and going through these routines. In the semi-darkness, Joseph notices a hospital bed with it's covers pulled back. As if in a trance he lays back on the bed and throws some sheets over his face. Almost immediately, Pinkman hears the wheels of the hospital bed start to squeak and whine, and feels the shiftings of the bed as it is pushed by some unseen force. Soon, after banging through a few doors, the hospital bed becomes still, and Pinkman peeks out. He's greeted by a blinding yellow light which mars his ability to see the figure that is standing over him. A rubber stick is jammed in his mouth, and the hum of a electric device becomes overpowering. Pinkman knows that this is electroshock, and he knows that his body and mind can't withstand any more high voltage. He also knows that he's fading from existence, and there's no way around these people, and if it's not today it's bound to be tomorrow that he's forced to face the inevitable. He spits out the rubber pacifier and accepts the weight of the headphones that someone immediately fixes to his head. Digesting a heavy wall of dead air with lightening in the distance, Pinkman says a prayer to himself that he knows will never be answered. His memories will be long gone in an instant, and there's nothing in his darkening horizon. Pinkman imagines himself out sailing on a schooner, looking to the left of him, and to the right. Enjoying the precious calm, but knowing that in the distance there is nothing. Nothing but a sea of black with the storm clouds rolling in to wish him one final goodbye.

THE END

©

2017

Bunny Villaire

It begins with something simple...because we all know better than to heed the words of the sinuous, slithering and suggestive snake. Like Mother Eve, Evil rises in every fiber of our beings. We are drawn to the exotic, the dangerous, that which is taboo.

Evil awoke in the Garden of Eden and spread her magnificent, malignant raven wings of smoke over the blue-green planet. She sows her seeds within us all, mocking, testing, luring even the most glowing, sanctimonious, and pure-hearted to her den. She whispers love songs and mystical messages in our ears, promising more than we dare to dream.

Evil lives because of want and need. The pious need not seek her or the Fallen Angel as the wickedness grows like a flaming ball of red-hot embers within that empty cavity beneath the thorax. Evil is heartless, yet it is the heart of each and every being.

Evil was born because of human desire. Don't you know that which is so beautiful must be underlaid with tones of golden flecked sensuality that is way too good to be true. So it is false and only the brave recognize it for its truth. Evil lives within. It grows from good intentions, martyrs and suicide terrorists. It is borne of lack and of excess, and seeks no class distinction. It is the ultimate fantasy and horror story together. Evil is what fuels the flames of desire and success. It is greed, avarice, want and sex. It is fathers turning on their families and company executives skimming the top. It is the way we prostitute ourselves for the American Dream.

Evil has been here for all time. She has linked herself through the trees and fossilized remains of the past to our present. She calls to your base instinct, those gut desires and makes you want. She makes you act. True followers feel no remorse.

So what is evil? We are evil, every living, breathing organism. We inhale dreams and exhale the subtle suggestions of Lucifer and Eve. We thrive on dark hope and the fear of not pleasing Evil. Eve/Evil is always watching, she waits for you to stumble, and helps you up with dark promises. She walks with you through the world, until at last she brings you to the gates of Hell. Or is it Paradise?

Evil lives as long as humans want, desire, hope and dream. She will be steadfast and true until you can no longer walk beside her. And then, Evil simply laughs.

#challenge, #evil

Swelled up wool of your discomfort

Snaked the many drains,

Like an airless room that saps

Analytic interest it betrays...

I can't contain your

Glowing image

Inside a frame

That's always shifting...

...Diving to adjust the safety

On my silent scope...

I'm flat broke,

Clinging to the

Counterfeit

Attack!...

...Always in a state of

Static

Standing that reacts...

Linked by several chains,

I'm doubled

Up into my lap!...

...Tonight I think I'll

Swing on by,

And swallow every

Single song!...

...Thrash in vain

In a gangster's

Trunk...

Streetlights blinking on...

To signify the shift

To night...

...Here's where reason

Does take flight!...

People dying in the

Dark,

Because of

Unseen laws!...

...Colonies built out of

Sand...

Struggles never pause,

And wars go on

Until an end

That one cannot foresee...

Clinging to the counterfeit,

The renounced mystery

That no one had the patience

To interpret to the core...

...Now we're paying

For our lead lock...

Discarded on the shore

Like the carcasses, and

Scrap

We thought we'd never be...

Clinging to the countefeit...

...Complying to defeat.

©

2017

Bunny Villaire

An anomaly, I have to say,

the blooms that now upon me lay.

I’ve seen red and blue and pink and white,

but black? Never.

A bow of golden satin string

goes about them like a ring.

A piece of happiness and joy

so contrasting.

Although I know you meant it well,

it does me better not to dwell

on all the things that made you choose

dark roses.

Perhaps if I was still alive,

I could try to make them thrive

as it is, they will slowly whither

and die.

There will not be a funeral for them.

Instead someone will condemn

a bundle of dried blossoms

to compost.

My heart will go out in sorrow,

and I will hope that by the morrow

they will be taken back and returned

to my hands.

Carved intestines

Downtowns

Interstate

Through jungles

And we didn't anticipate

Graffiti?

Played a president

At a time

Like this

And didnt expect

To vote him in?

Construction steeples

Alongside temples

And little figures

Half-believers

That fears would

Subside?

Who washed

Neighborhoods

Along made

thoroughfares

And never predicted

Failures?

Craved cures

Through bundles

Of doomed pangs

And we assumed

Hope? (will feed us)

Position brain is numb

And my spine

dehydrated

With stares into

Nothing?

Yet hurricanes here cannot

Think of a damn thing

To think

Or even say

About how gods

Never came?

Or even fucking

Killing worms

Over and over

Again? Right?

My great pasty

tongue

Accentuates

Just kill 

ME?

Then the phone

Blinks?

It's something

But not what

I's looking for

It's an email notifying

Me of

A chance?

To prove

something

Peculiarly

About fat folks

Singing

Better than

Anyone?

With this 

enough

To obliterate an ugly riot

Or yet protesting one

Maybe too reasoning why

It has while we

shriveled

Inside?

Guess what

This awful guise

Then half- considers

To never more

be

Alive?  

This is the Song of the Druids

Lifting souls from under dry grasses

With buckets, Swung to the well

A big dipper tipped into the gold,

The cryptic book of Verse renewed,

Read among semi-circular hedges

In a choral fortissimo flood of 

Mystic symbolism, Sung at hell

sxhc sniff swaabing

hxc nostril dives,

futile exploration into thc

blissful abyss,

come up awake &, >< 'takea looka this'

---carved translate )( connection wireless

from fists swatting

'can barely type of things, worn nubs

Iav nothing uwanting'

Returndit about itsgrips

'so istash iquick in theeown

ahold it grips of istraps uh??’

& too too quite --likckitysplits

Inotebook_ike eh

smarts, catches on... snorts out

tweigghttt

Play instructional.

'Listen, _isten, there is what iwill

is todo

With rhis when'. . multiply buzzing

iround mi returnd

Crop, crops i_midges

circles sygnals

sands rapid hovering

interceptions ofme

dunes of drones

symbols.so hcx shells

u’v everythingafter;

and listening about how

tosegregate moments to engage;

with the trojan icndroras platalate

morphing replicates

but awfflhee inextricably

waves irun contino0usly

so;;msconfig.on.frm

rHis command:panel/

TLs almost get ahold

ofmiinfo

next :: to :: withinwithout

t-wild earnest we stepped in and over

and over toward

forms existential, granules

resemblance = hornets/fly

like bats/sized\from redirt

xight in & out lightning-

raretajectorys

on brickred walls-ash if sifts

millipeds,-IMN clumps

back-forth scatterers

I-thoughts only

a ground, idug... iopen

And Half cliff eroded

---you life never flashes before

you eyes see/the emotionless

delayed flee—swarms release!

cuzzes ’fuc mi allergies...'

xhcinf[sneeze] soft enough

to the tremendous arrays

like the surveiillamce beams

at_knifed/ jystifalee t-kill

ione too many.processz.

Cricks in magnifyed glass/trapped

Steel jungle rings

Cover tunnels

within this backspinning

carpets of blue soil, tiny spyings---

emerges

so iboot heels in grips

to the planetary

near slip out

Off/clip // forgetit

ithe smeared tcT head

iso, sprayed ephemeral

instant form itakes

the vagged unsnaps

retracted . . . security-device

And ive shapeshift accelerated.

Away from nestings

With hcx intact

_Sim.entry\\Wars eliminated over secrets.

When thc alien come; we_destroyed.

moving on;:: when we aliens

come

son of the embraced, welcome;;;

united/ comets, against apocalyptic

events – solved existence.

Sage Ts allin rHis

so

Machines constructing machines

In ittle supercolonies//too much_

too much grease

yetIwiped_hcx_//cleaning

Nithese smeared windshields

w/Methane consumed skies.

Quadra-cycle 100 ships /every 100 seconds.

Yet.... .... .... .....infecting

to

but By twiviolet shield

Tdevice plugs scan the aerial

views/soooo thread-pattern askew.

[jic] sim. F1typed thxaddress

but then erased,

as i says convertingand

wasnt sure

anything listening

to what to enter

or judging

without(b)that perfect plague- arising

(stars)-self proclaimed.

Anyway i-entered .... unheard

Ants nest comparably

igot damp

-muff of land between my fingers

-reaching wher it nearly

stung midead

when become sound trickling

untying, trying to

upload ime . . . .

When sack began pulling

Like gloved pencils

In a darkness fast, alerting;

‘w-wait wait whats this:?!’

hcx itranslate

vertical horizons typhooning!!

‘sketched art_ ifacts, ttt?’

walls ziplok

'not what usearch'

butkrnls xhc-packed

viral atsneak and UV

on.

skimmers forrHis fix//update

as we ruminated in

Mars’ scene of thieves

Market streets??

No.

Fleas pf caverns

Mud-soil red haze patterns

Bleeding oil razes

The teething planet rays

Like antihistamines spray

they

rHis pack //supermind

demonstratively

protects thc queen.decoding

keeps rewriting sim.to

mi-breathing

upon upon upon

andso I grasp smooshing clay

particles staining straps,

knuckle clavicles

pinched neck spiderveins

left shoulder

half-fingers usee -----

sowereturn.to.humans

here on MArs

wher_Fantasia - - light out there

That looks green

That’s where

We taking rHis thing

Andwill render complete

10 year old

Dear me

I am learning that reading is something I can’t do and I don’t want to. Why would you dare do something that is hard? Because it doesn’t look like english to you. It feels like the end of the world because you can’t do this one thing and it is because everyone else can and you don’t know what to do about that. Hey future you do you still have this problem? How do you read homework and other thing?

12 year old

Dear me

I don’t know what I am doing with this girl I am texting. But I like it and I am not going to think about it. And who would find out about it. Also why would I stop texting her, she makes me feel good inside. And never like my ex boyfriend, he made me feel bad and weird. Why would I ever do that to myself? But think got crazy with her and i was scared, What would that mean from me. And i didn’t want to know ,what that would mean for me. So i ended thing with her tell her that I didn’t like girl at all. Hey future me why did i like talking to girl? Why didn’t like guys that away? I hope you know why?

13 year old

Dear me

I am still friend with her. And she hurts me each day , I am friend’s with her. But someday she sent me happiness and I know she not good for me but i can’t let her go. And I don’t know if I want to. And he like me and he is the only one. So I need to like him to and I think I do. There are feeling in my chest i just don’t know if they good or not. You might know why i do these things to myself? I hope you do know and you stop doing it?

14 year old

Dear me

I feel like my live is over and because of my 12 year old why did I sent out that photo? And why I am friend with a girl who used to bully me and no she still doesn’t. I feel sadder each day. And my guy relationships are not work out no matter what I do and I don’t know what to do about it. You might why my guy relation never work out? I hope that photo is no longer a problem for you?And please tell me that you are not still friend with her later in life.

15 year old

Dear me

I wanted to forget that summer and I am, because denial is fun. I feel sad and sad each day of my life and i don’t know what to do about it. But writing is there for me and seem like the only thing. I don’t like handing my life like this so sad and i don’t want to. I think I like some guy maybe not. Hey can’t you help because i don’t like living like this? I hope it not like this for you anymore? And why do like being dominant? I think don’t like guy that way?

16 year old

Dear me

I just came out as gay and I am scar of what everyone is going to think of me. I never even had a girl ,but I did kiss a girl it was better than any kiss I had with a guys. But each night I would cry myself to sleep and say that “ you will wake up, one day not gay”. But it never work and I would try to blocked my feeling for girls. I get depressed and want to be happy. I hated living like this day to day. And to top it all of my parent didn’t believe when I told them and so I could never go up to my mom and say I like this girl. And me and my sister keep on fighting all the time and i don’t know what to do about it. My mom doesn’t understand me half the time. But then everything changed and she came in my life. I guess you could also say she came back in my life. She was a old friend of mine and I feel things for her. We started dating it was amazing. She being my world and I fall so deeply in love with her and I was no longer sad. Each day with her was so amazing. She pulled me out of the dark and she give me so much light that I suffocate in it. But after about 5 mouth of dating her she ended thing. I felt like my life was over. I guess you could say after sometime i was okay not great. But good and I better I didn’t feel that sadness. About 3 or 2 mouth i had new girlfriend and it didn’t last long but it told me that wasn’t going to be the only girl i was going to date. I was gay and that doesn’t matter. You are me i am so happy i hope you still are. And i hope mom finally stop denial that her daughter is gay? Find true girl, you fall for girls that going to break your heart and it beautifully. But someone might break it so bad that you won’t never want to fall in love again.

17 year old

Dear me

Back to school, class going. I used to have someone special. But mom find out and end thing with us. She didn’t like that was a girl. It suck but i knew she wouldn’t like it at all. But a part of me hope that she would get it. I am still 17 and a lot more will happen to me. Also i am so ready for it.

I hope one day I won’t have write a little to you. But i like know that my future yourself might know that everything will be okay. And you don’t alway know that.

Part 2

The answer letter

Dear 10 year old me

That reading problem is still here but it doesn’t matter that much anymore.It not the end of the world and it okay. Here is a lot more that will happen to you and it will be okay to. Your 10 year old life just started don’t worry about that.

Dear 12 year old me

I get it you're scared but lying to yourself not the answer at all. Maybe you thought that nothing would happen and you and that girl mean nothing. But you know that girl mean something more than friends. It will be okay and you learn how to be okay with it. It won’t be end of the world, if you don’t like guy.

Dear 13 year old me

Stop being friend with toxic friend I don’t know why you let people do that to you. Stop dating guys they don’t make you happy. Life is not what it seem to be and take a different path so you will be happy. But if you did everything i told you to do wouldn’t be you. In 2 year life will get real hard but keep move and time you will find answer to thing that you need answer to.

Dear 14 year old me

That photo doesn’t matter, move on. That girl might be mean to me but in the future she not a problem. What are you doing still dating guy your crazy you don’t even like them. But it okay and i get it you didn’t know any gay and you should of knew that it okay to be different, everybody act’s different that is what keeps the world turning.

Dear 15 year old me

Hey you that summer will tell you everything about your future.So don’t forget it, even if it hurts to remember it. It won’t hurt in the future. Also you think you like guy because shouldn’t you. Everyone is supposed to say yes if you are a girl. But that isn’t true that is why you feel sad inside because you have bevelie this lie everyone has told you. So start being happy.

Dear 16 year old me

Sadly mom still have won’t believe me but it okay. You do date some girls but and alway do get heart broken because you fall fast and you just do. Yes you are still happy very much so.

Hey reader

These are my secret if you read this I think you will be okay if you know them. This is all true and what i was try to do with this is if I would have got letters from my future self i would be a different person and i wouldn’t be as confused

It feels so marvelous to have been broken. To have been shattered and to have put the pieces back myself. To have glued them the wrong way so there are still holes where love and pain can seep through.

 Let me be your vase. Let me be your vice. Let me be yours.

 Tape up the holes in my heart with the strongest tape imaginable. Pour water in me until it bursts through. 

Hold me but not too tightly. Make me feel like a work of art, like a rare collectible. Pay a high price for me. Love me just the right amount. 

This glue is fragile and I don't know how much longer I'll be whole. Love me for the pieces that won't fit. Love me for me. Don't mend the holes and don't pour in water. Put flowers in and watch them die.

 Pity them and pity me for the things I lack. 

Let me gather dust and disintegrate and don't love me enough to let me go. I'm not worth anything now anyway, not now that I am broken.

 It was your arm that carelessly knocked me off the table. So where were you when I broke? The sound must've woken you. 

I am gone now but you think of me.

 You've filled your house with new vases and told everyone you'll be alright. You miss me and the glass edges that made your fingers bleed.

 You miss my fragility and my fortitude. 

I miss you but I forget why. You didn't let go of me, I let go of myself. I wish you'd have been there to see me fall, I was so beautiful.

There is a myth out there that meditation is serious stuff: that there is a right way and a wrong way to do it. In the same way that there is no right or wrong way to feel the wind on your face there is no right or wrong way to meditate. We might all feel it differently, we might do it at different times, some may even do it more often than others but no one person is better or worse at feeling the wind. Similarly, no one is better or worse at meditating.

Even for those of us who have a hard time sitting still and clearing our mind. We too can meditate! This is because meditation can be as simple as smelling the roses, feeling the wind on your face, experiencing compasion, or simply being.

When a cat sits in a window sill, it isn't thinking about what is in the futur or in the past, where it aught to be, if it is enjoying the sun enough, or if it is doing it right. When the cat leaves the window sill the cat doesn't feel guilty because it hasn't returned in a while. The cat doesn't think to itself, "I really owe it to myself to enjoy the sunlight today." A cat sits on the window sill and enjoys the sunlight simply because the sun is there. Meditation is like this: it is returning to a natural way of enjoying life's simplicity.

This way of thinking about meditation was ellegantly explained by Allen watts when he stated that "you can make any human action into meditation simply by being completely with it and doing it just for doing it." Meditation is being whole: it is you and it is the universe! Meditation is complete and for the sake of nothing at all except of itself.

When you are "completely with it" you aren't distracted, instead you are saturated in what you are doing. When you do things for the sake of doing it, it is pure enjoyment. You do it not for the sake of others even if it may benifit them, nor for the sake of yourself even if it may benifit you. You do it because, for what ever reason, you feel inclined to do so and you allow this inclination to direct you. Weather this is feeling the wind on your face or sitting, legs crossed, repeating "om,": both are meditation, neither are good not bad, better nor worse; they are simply ways of being at peace.

Meditation is the here and now. We all experience here and now all of the time and everywhere because this is all that ever exists. Sometimes we just need to remind ourselves of this point. Meditation is the reminder, both when we meditation with intention and when we meditation by feeling the wind on our face.