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@alldaymakebelieve
Can’t sleep in the summer nights. The last one left. White shadow stalking the desert. The sky veil rips. The moon pours out.
Badlands by Cori Storb
I took this back in the day when I was hanging out with Slow Magic in the secret underground beneath his studio. He's playing in Denver tonight at the Gothic, if you are nearby you should go dance to my friend's drum wizardry.
I was on the loneliest road in America when I went up as high as I possibly could - up and out of the naked grasslands of Nevada, above that land that was just waiting to burn. Up and up through the winding forest of the highest mountain I could find, and up and up through the white ghosts of aspen trees. So I high I went, I climbed up to the edge of life, to tree line, to the elevation nothing dares live above. And do you know what lives up there? Right on the inhospitable edge of existence; where no one dares to linger for the sun and the wind beat you down while the air and the water evade you? In that land there are Giants. The wisest oldest hardiest Giants. Though they are not very large, their immensity is undeniable. They are the oldest trees on the planet - the bristle cone pines - they live for thousands of years. They are wild undulating pine trees, that grow no taller than an elephant; they do not reach upward like most trees (they are already so high up) but instead they spin in the wind, their trunks and limbs twisting and rolling into wild twining circles. They are forever frozen into shapes that my hair makes on the windiest days. They are constantly doing the slowest tree tai chi. These trees have been slowly swirling for thousands of years before Christ even set foot on the earth, some of them have even been thriving since before the pyramids were erected. I laid my hand on the Prometheus tree - the single oldest living thing that has ever been found, although in the greatest tragedy, that tree was cut down by a man. I have now felt the oldest stone, and the oldest body on the earth. I crawled inside the body of a pine and thought about the difference between knowledge and wisdom, one is gained and one is earned. I am just a little mayfly of life on this planet for less than a blink of a blink of a skip of a heartbeat of time, but I would like to taste a sip of wisdom one day. For a long time I have been asking? What is it that causes trees to die? There are certainly environmental factors that when they are limited would cause a death, but what if there was a tree, that was living always in ideal conditions ~ could it grow on forever? Would something other than man have stopped the Prometheus tree eventually? A cancer, a DNA factor, a loss of will? No one has told me the answer, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that it is the thing that keeps the tree alive that will also be its downfall. For what is the difference between a stone and a tree? Between life and existence? In order to live, to be alive, you must always be growing. A tree that does not grow is dead. A stone will morph and change, but to be alive you must always reach up and out and ever improve. A stone may rest in stillness, it can simply exist, it will forever change as well, no doubt, as part of the cosmic mixing of all things, but it takes a great deal of external force to change a stone. A tree will cease to live without a great deal of internal force requiring it to always evolve. In this way, we must also live, we are no different, it is growth that is the force of life, opposite of the deep stillness of death. We must always keep growing or we will be dead. But growth, it appears, cannot be infinite. Although in watching the bristle cones, there is much to be learned from their strategy of growth: These trees go their own way, they pick the most challenging, harsh, landscape in which to thrive, and in doing this they never have to compete - no other trees dare follow them up there. I have always believed this ~ that always the better road for me. Beyond competition is innovation, to find your niche and thrive in your own particular strangeness. The bristle cones are always adapting, they do not even try to grow straight, they wind and change, as all things in the world inevitably must. They even let whole parts of themselves die so that new parts can keep growing. They also live very modestly, the use everything that comes their way, nothing is wasted. They make due with the rockiest soil and they are basically always fasting for water. Yet, they grow steady and wild. It is sometimes hard for me to find older role models in life - but in the bristlecone pines I see a lot of what I would like to become. I will choose the oldest role models I possibly can.
The most epic treasure hunt will begin very soon! The first ones through the door will have a head start to find the treasure. Like this page (https://www.facebook.com/gosomewheresecret) or get on the email list at: www.somewheresecret.com ~ Don't you want to be the first to put your footsteps in the thick dust of anticipation that blankets the floor of Somewhere Secret?
rain forest by cori storb
Yesterday we decided to look at each other
the way we look at the leaves and the flowers
To look, without fear, to admire for as long as we
wish.
And my god, we stood there in the middle of the sidewalk
laughing crying laughing crying laughing
You noticed every pore and hair and blemish on my face
and said in amazement,
"wow! I have never seen you look so beautiful"
I felt the same way
because though you have known me for such a long time
We had never really seen each other before
And what boundless surprises I found, in your familiar face
When we finally decided to look
Water and salt are worth their weight in gold in this place. Don't shed your tears over him. The whole world will be your lover. Go feel every curve of the desert melt beneath your feet.
by Cori Storb
Sometimes I try to write something good, but all the words come out as pretzels, all twisted and brittle.
Writing feels like my most tenuous talent. Not something I can summon, but more like a spark I wait patiently and impatiently for. Scribbling pretzels page to page, waiting for a full fledged meal to come out, something to nourish and satisfy.
Where is the goddess of eloquence? The deity of perfect word placement? I will pray to you. Bleed my ink at your alter. I'll burn my best letters for you.
I would like to say something meaningful. I would like to mean something. I would like someone else to feel a feeling from something I have made. I can not yell very loud. I can not sing. I can only hope to quietly cast the perfect words forth and hope these ordinary words, in such arrangement, form a magic spell.
I would like to catch the precious thoughts before they pop like soap bubbles. Just now, I felt one, a good one, a good idea brush past my forehead, I felt the flutter of its wispy fabric. It is gone now. This is all I have.
By Cori Storb
by Cori Storb
The journey by Cori Storb
This world is filled with incomprehensible majesty.
~
And how do you gain access? The keys to secret lands are hidden inside other people.
~
A lot of my best adventures have come from connecting to other people - from talking to strangers and building amazing friendships. You never know - the person sitting beside you might invite you to fly away in their airplane, or the shy boy across the room might know the way to a hidden cave, or you might end up walking around the block with a girl from the coffee shop and in those ten minutes she will tell you a great wisdom.
~
So I hope for this new year, that you are very kind and open to everyone you meet - especially the ones who are very different fro you - and it will undoubtably lead you on great and wild adventures. I think a single person's mind is just as vast and incomprehensible and mysterious as the entire world, you don't ever have to travel to have grand adventures, just go deep and curious into someone beside you.
by Cori Storb
The wedding dress of my grandmother, my mother, and now my sister
by Cori Storb