Afternoons with Horses

Sometimes the world changes colors on me.
It goes from a shade of gray.. to a deep, wet blue - the sort of color you can wade into and let yourself drift.
My fingers wander gently through the manes of painted horses .. their sweat on my palms; large soft eyes and noses. We exist in a place that grows stranger and more remarkable the longer you stare.
Unappologetic; seductive in every sense of the word. I can't help but smile at the absurdity of beautiful.





(Andrew Tipton)

The Best 30 Minutes of Your Life

Soft lights flickering through the tree tops.. the lulling sound of an acoustic guitar.. my canteen filled with dark red wine.. sweet on my lips, all of it - the star filled night, the air, the music, the greatest of luxuries: being here now.
Sitting next to me on a stranger's blanket, Josh lights up an Indian Spirit and takes a deep breathe.. I watch the smoke swirl into the shape of an Egyptian dragon, and I think to myself that humans are beautiful, crazy creatures.
Josh sits up and leans into my ear..
"What if these were the last 30 minutes of our lives?".
I smile. Josh asks good questions.

"... the world ends in 30 minutes... what do we do?"

"I think if we knew that these 30 minutes were our last.. they would be the best 30 minutes of our lives."

I take a long drink of wine, and then pass the canteen to Josh.
We both look at each other and break into a smile/laugh/shoulder hug.

Imagine what would matter to you.. if you only had 30 minutes of life left..? Imagine what you would be able to say, or do with that amount of time.
It is an interesting amount.. because it is just long enough to provoke panic.. yet, it isn't enough time to take decisive action.
In 30 minutes, you can't really go anywhere, you can't redeem yourself to anyone, you can't do the things that you never took a chance on...
With 30 minutes.. you are left with one reasonable option:
Enjoy yourself as you are, where you are. Could you do that?

I think we would suddenly be aware how very much it is to be alive... it would flood over us like a Hokusai wave. Our hearts would race, our eyes would be wide and desperate and brave and marvelous.. the world would be marvelous for 30 minutes. Somehow, the knowledge that time is running out.. changes everything. Changes what matters, changes what we want, what we hate, what we love, changes what we do.
The smell of cool air, the way the trees sway in the dark of a starlit night.. the softness of grass - the energy of people, the sensation of our own heartbeats, colors like red & deep blue, the intricate beauty of touch.

I would be aware of the moment - I would be here truly, finally - and I would savor every last living breathe..
Ironic.. that our last 30 minutes would be our best... but they would.
Maybe I can start sooner.







Andrew Tipton

Free Spirits

Free Spirit,
owls in the tree tops,
feathers in our hair,
are we perfect?
is this day perfect for the taking?
dirt on our hearts and feet,
we wander into each others souls,
you are the expression of a rambling mind,
rough edged, thoughtful, gently brutal.
I have nowhere to escape to; nowhere to escape from.
Jet stream outrageous blue. Sky above my deepest breathes.
Stand here, eyes wide shut, mouth wet, Sweat.
I count the heartbeats. 85 Inside.
Sex daydreams; green green grass.
This is all I want: everything.
From life, from myself.
To remain a child, hopelessly captivated by the simplest of splendor.
waterfall baths,
blackberries stains on dark jeans,
laughter of friends,
the innocence and tremor in a single passionate kiss.
This is lust, contagious. This is a dream, contagious. This is joy, contagious.
Los Tigres sing: "I need my freedom"
Our anthem; the words that fill these dark blue veins.
This world was made for us..
For our experience.
For our lost inhibitions.
For our laughter.
These days are beautifully short lived.



Andrew Tipton

Questions without Answers(?)

I love the part of humanity that breathes curiousness.

By nature I love asking questions.. from the way people move, to the way we think, to the thoughts we never say. Questions. Asking "why?", takes my mind on a wild ride.. I love the possibilities that come with asking a question.
Even at this moment, my mind is racing through questions about the earth, about my surroundings, about truths and the ideas of wisdom and happiness. The questions never end.. but in a good way.. the way you don't want an insanely good book to end.. or the way you don't want a night to end sometimes.
There seem to be two very separate sides to my consciousness -
- the part of me that asks questions.
- and the part of me that needs to have these questions answered.

I am curious though.. what would happen if I stopped looking for the answers to all my questions? Its ironic... (another question), but truly.. is it possible for a person to ask questions, and remain detached from whether or not they get a reasonable answer? Or at least, the answer that they hoped to find?

I am only asking this question, because I've become aware that I compulsively attempt to "create" answers for myself. More and more frequently, I'm noticing a desire to explain away my questions... Without a blink, without a hesitation.
Often in the face of uncertainty, I jump - Jump to where I want to be in my mind.. to the answer that makes me feel in control
Answers... to the names of birds, to friendships, to behavior, to why I act a certain way, to why colors feel a certain way in my mind. I jump to the answers. I create solutions, and never bother to linger awhile in uncertainty.
But why not linger in the questions for awhile? :)

Maybe I will for awhile..
- Questions lead us to the possibilities of life - while answers take away the pure magic of living. There is an abundance of questions.. I want to ask them with an open, quiet mind - ask them without looking for a comfortable resolution.



(Andrew Tipton)

Rebel Raindrops

Whiskey silk, rebel raindrops.
feel it slow. Motion.
Feel it slowly on the back of your heart like a laugh,
Out. Loud.
Wait for it, want for it, be for it.
Black cloud breeze; the starlit outline of my smile - sometimes.
Between the patchwork of quilts;
the patchwork of my thoughts;
sweet tangle jungle dreams.
We are always asking questions about the color of rain.
We are always answering questions about the color of rain.
Watch her sway, in the dark.
Tilt back, arched back.
Can you pause a moment?
Would you try and touch a whisper?
Try and make it yours...
Hold it there on your tongue... It slips from the lips.
Splash.
Wet circles on my cheeks, wet circles on my skin, wet circles on my mind.
Slow.
Motion.
Everywhere.




Andrew Tipton

I got up my bravery

A ship in harbor is safe - but that is not what ships are for.

~John A. Shedd

Put the Magic Back

Journal Entry: Put the magic back.

Laying on my back, my skin still feels salty and saturated from the ocean waves and afternoon rays. I am lying here with my eyes closed, my hands behind my head, a worn-out patchwork quilt tangled around my legs, and grains of sand stuck to my bare shoulders. The night air feels like ice-cube kisses on my face, and I can literally feel myself coming and going from jellyfish dreams.
There is nothing extraordinary about this moment; no special sounds, no trembling heart or restless revolutionary thoughts... it is simply the moment before sleep; a common moment, an un-interesting moment - the sort that is quickly forgotten and never brought up in conversation. And yet, as I lay here, everything about it feels inexplicably wild.

Try and explain life.
Try and explain yourself.
Explain the simplest, most ordinary places.
Explain animals or dreams, or touch, or emotion..
I watched a jellyfish today... explain a jellyfish.
I watched a cloudless sky twist and sway and burn itself into a million beautiful colors.. explain that.
Explain rest, and explain sleep, and explain peace, and explain skin, and water, and sunlight.
Do you ever feel like you want to put the magic back into these days? Do you ever feel like there are too many answers, too many explanations? Maybe life only looks rigid and defined.. because we have said so.
Maybe life is still magical, still wild, still wickedly beautiful. Do you ever stop and remember that we are the ones who made up all these answers to begin with?




"I am just lying here."
"I am lying here."
"I am here."
"I am."
"I."
"__."


"____." is a magic place; a place where definitions, expectations, and explanations do not exist. Things just are. I don't tell them what to be.. don't tell them how to move.. I don't tell them what they were made to do..
What if sea turtles are _______.
What if sound is ______.
What if tigers are _______.
What if you and I are ________.

What an amazing beautiful place we would exist in.

I keep picturing jellyfish.



Andrew Tipton