What does it mean to be a poet? I am still finding out.

To start with, my sister's name is Molly. On a warm night in May 1998, she came to visit me at my apartment in Berkeley, CA. She was on her way to Greece for a month, and I, fresh out of college, was working in a consulting firm. I remember the way she came in the door, like she always does - blustery, like a warm wind, and full of life - bags full of clothes and cameras and journals and hopes and dreams and youth - talking and laughing and eating and eyes flashing all at once.

Her entrance was even more poignant because her energy was in stark contrast to the backdrop of my life in that apartment, which seemed dark and dank in comparison. I had already decided that I wanted to become a photographer and a writer, but my mind was awash with fear. Stuck between my dissatisfaction with my present path, and the fear of my intended path, I felt trapped and immobile.

And so we talked. Our conversation started gently, and we talked, with growing passion, about community, family, peace, freedom, awe, respect, love, simplicity and presence. We talked deep into the night. I remember the intensity of her blue-eyed gaze. When had my little sister become so wise? When had she stopped being little? To my surprise, through our talk, I could feel the beginnings of a covenant deep inside - a covenant with myself to not give up. I started to think...

I want to talk... I want to preach... I want to see... I want to be... I want to struggle to make ends meet. I want to make them meet. I want to subvert the golden parachute of the closing up and closing off. I want to make music. I want to make love on a beach at sunset to my wife of thirty years. I want to win my freedom...

It is amazing how easy it is to be strong if you can find peace.

Molly left for Greece in the morning, but she left me a present under my pillow, which I found after she was gone. It was a No. 2 lead pencil with a note wrapped around it and secured by a rubber-band. The note said simply, BE A POET.

She didn't say “write poetry.” She said BE a poet. If I were to try to explain what she meant, I might say that she meant that I should follow my dreams. I might say that she meant that I should live my life with love and respect and passion. I might say that she meant that there is hope for all of us. I might say many more things, but I don't think that I could ever quite capture the spirit of Molly's note.

My sister has inspired me to live my life to its fullest. I hope that the work presented here will help inspire you, in your own way, to be a poet.