Monday, April 21, 2014

Feet Grounded

I saw you in the corner of my eye
I was simply doing little things that I do
nothing special
nothing expected
stepping forward in contented banal.

and I felt you sweep softly into view
familiar presence
and grab my hand.
Your eyes caught mine as if to ask
if I might join you
and without time for response, you jumped into the sky
my hand held tightly in yours
my body slid into upward motion
and we flew.

For days and weeks it seems
above the everything
safe together
wings laced as we felt the wind at our faces
and the perfection of love
only laughter and flying and joy
with little thought of the
whats and hows and dos and needs and nails and hammers and wallets and calendars and.....

we flew and flew.

One day, our feet touched down.  Our eyes connected, we laughed
at just how breathtaking it had been.
And
the whats and the hows and the dos and needs and nails and hammers and wallets and calendars
beckoned.

Still our wings reach to touch, and we fly with one another.
In and around the hows and the dos and the needs and the nails and the hammers and wallets and calendars.
The air still at our faces.

It is finding the laughter and the flying and the joy
with feet grounded
and trust that the sky is certainly there
where our love lives.

I will always reach for your wings.

Friday, March 28, 2014

Trouble

If I were a child,
being parented by myself,

sitting low in a high back chair
finger wagging at me
by my very own self.

lectured for
patterns repeated
again and again and again
asked and pleaded with
warned and cajoled
threatened with consequences for

choosing yet again
to do
say
react
whine
scream
throw tantrum over temper tantrum.

If I were a young subject
sitting in front of a very large desk
an ominous me sitting a front.
my smallish legs dangling still from a chair
much too large
hands shaking on my lap.
Hearing that big voice tell me that my
choices
my attitude
my failure           once again           to do what I have been asked.

If I were that girl
getting a talking to from
the part of me that knows better.....

I think I'd be

in

trouble.

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Feel it

I hope you can feel it.

The center place in you that is connected to something,
everything....
tethered to the everything.

I hope you can feel it.

I hope that when you wake in the morning
when you look at your children
when you touch your lover
when  you make a new friend
when you sweetly care

I hope you can feel that you are touching

love.

That word just never captures it.
Maybe it's because it's been so tired by the uses that we've given it.
When really,
it's not elusive
or small
or tinny
or what you find in $11.75 movies.

It's the

everything.

when you close your eyes, and there is nothing else but you
and what you know and what you feel and who you love.  It's there.

I hope you can feel it,
because it is so beautiful.

I hope you can feel it.  

The color and the love and the flow and the peace and the patience and the quiet
that resides
everywhere you look.

I can feel you not believing me, as life can be hard
and pointy
and painful
and lonely.

You're right.  It can.

But it's there.  I promise.


I hope
you
can

feel it.

Sunday, March 02, 2014

Dragging Lightly in the Sand

In the stir of the day
with every possibility swirling about,

I can feel you.


In the movement of life,
footsteps into running,
wind of fast against my face,

I can feel you.


In the questions
and
the
certainties,
the
scary
and
the
comfort,

I can feel you.


In the past                       and the future,
the    nevers        and                                    the always,

I can feel you.


I bend my back across the strength of your arm,
invisible across every mile between us,
my hair dragging lightly in the
sand.

Your heart's fortitude suspends me.

I can feel you.
and.

I.
am.
yours.








Friday, February 28, 2014

Broken Heart

Its beauty
breaks my heart.

The sweet faithful reaching to a father that they can clearly see,
and I'm not so sure.
As I look at pictures of places
I have never seen
beautiful artistry, scrollwork pocked
by bullet hate
people I have never known
on their desperate knees.


The questions
break my heart

I hear them being asked, all over.
Whispers and screaming fists pounding fingers tightened
around throats until the vocabulary that they do not know
for the very same God disappears.

Certainty.
exclamation.
assurance.

and

I       can't       buy       it.


The silence
breaks my heart.

Staring into ebony sky feeling forever
never ending
no wall with a sign that says "EXIT"
The ever drip of knowledge
confuses with its vast mass
but to me
points only to

holy.


The Love.
It
breaks my heart

into so many pieces they can't be counted
As I do my thing
working creating talking impacting living
and he watches from across the space
deep in his own conversation
about life or family or art or doing or being and
completely ok on his own
he smiles a knowing smile at me.
No ownership
only admiration.

I sit in this
everything
so perfect in its chaos
and all I feel
is gratitude

for my broken heart.


Sunday, February 23, 2014

O L D

Five days and thirty-five years.


moments and newness
and history and
frost edged memories
not sure if they're real or
created from the cast of characters
and sets that I remember.

Digging deep into the storage of my
awareness
to find pictures of people as they were.
As they are.

Interesting
as one ages.
when I was a kid, I'd look at a person that was
the age that

I
am
now

and be sure

they just don't get it.  
How could they?

They're

O L D.


Friday, February 21, 2014

Morning Must

morning must

show you naked
unadorned without
pretense
no coiff or thought to how the world might perceive
simply you.

morning must

tease you into awareness
a soft
float skimming the surface
ripples from tiny thought circles
from somewhere else to where you are.

morning must

create a cliche grey mist
cashmere
toussled hair
sleepy eyes
warm, sleep caressed
skin.

morning must

hold you like hot coffee
eggs over medium
night stretched tshirt
sheets wrapped in folds around
stretched legs.

morning must

invite you to the most
beautiful version of the day
before questions have chance
to root.

morning must

be
lovely.

Monday, February 17, 2014

Propelled

When I was a girl, I would see that glint
that something,
and I would be propelled into
that very simple thing.

He must be mine.

Two initials embraced within the red outline of a crayon heart
an arrow drawn through its center.


When I was just a little older, I would feel that               something.
That wordless
unexplainable something
and be propelled into combustable need.

Orchestrated sitting next to him in a bar
the beat of some earthy heart thump pulsing through
legs touching under sweaty drinks

electric

to find ourselves in a messy knot
candle lit
messy pile of discarded socks and sweatshirts.



When I was a young woman, I would notice

that

person.

Tall and strong, responsible and handsome
makes people laugh at parties and everyone wants to be around him.
I would be propelled
into planning for him to be my Camelot.
Imagination drawings of white picket fences
carrying me over the threshold
longing for me while I stir something on the stove
mowing the lawn and inside at afternoon's exit
his sexy day worn tshirt, my prince.

When I was a woman seasoned some, I would sense that secret smile
as I glanced at someone and would be propelled to wonder
if maybe it was he that
would
could
should
save me from the everyday
work
monotony
mundane
washing clothes cooking meals never catching up falling into bed too tired to make love.


I am a woman.
no longer a girl
no longer on any hunt for
someone
something
it
him.

enticed by my own mind and spirit
surrendered to complexity and layers of grey and nothing really living inside the box that has been
drawn for us.

I still notice.

I notice smart, and sexy, intelligent and creative, tender and strong.  I notice love and security and joy and comfort. I notice loyal and artistic and surrendered and inspired and kind.

I notice.

Thing is, I no longer feel propelled
to anything in particular.

I feel my heart unzip and allow my life to unfold.
I bend to integrity, and honesty, and all of the corners of life that I might have never looked into.
I rejoice in the love that I have and for every love that sneaks into my heart.

Every love is a new color.

A friend.
A muse.
An inspiration.
A memory.
A texture.

Perhaps I am
indeed
propelled,

but
to nothing
in

particular.



So Much Going On

So much going on.

Not to be seen with the eyes
of others.
For to them, it looks of calm and peace.
Glittery pics of pools and sleeping dogs,
holding honey hands
and basking in a bath of plenty.

So much going on.
The going on lives inside of me.
It is made up of

Thoughts,
Questions. Certainties.
Growth. Wonder.
Loss. Pain. Art.
Stagnation. Fear.
Resolve. Decision.
Newness. Panic.
Wanting.
Unresolved creativity.
Undiscovered
everything.

So much going on.

It lies in the processing of what I do, and what I haven't. It lies in
friendships old and new.
What to keep and what to release.
Holding tight to loves gone by,
and looking at the ghostly space that they
held, but
which will never truly have gone.
To me.
It lies in the fear that I am not loved. Judged. Eyes rolling from around the world
so hard
that I feel them crash into me.

It lies in wanting to be      so      me,
so ok with being

me

that I can't even perceive
of
ugly thoughts.

It lies in wanting to know
to dig deeper
to fall with breathtaking
abandon
into

art
you
friends
spirit
deep, deep love
exotic peoples
desperate giving
breaking through self imposed lids on metaphorical jam jars
learning
dancing into dizzy amazing
shifting
adding
exploding with color joy yummy sexy fullfilled connected awe-inspiring
good.


more.
of.
me.


So          much         going          on.

Saturday, October 12, 2013

Morning

I love the sound of water moving.
It sounds like soft wet
bells that don't really ring.
They blurb and bubble and dance a song
that no one can sing
but it.
Gently touching
some secret place inside
of us.


I love the sound of leaves
bumping against
one another.
Even if they bump hard
wind bends branches
whipping,
the violence of leaves bouncing against one another
ferociously
sounds soft to
me.


I love the feel of air on my skin
when it is just the right
coolness
just the right
speed.
invisible caresses to my body and joy that comes from
not my mind.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

The Way it Is

Seems like there's always something going on.
Something to recover from.
Something to work through.
Something to challenge and to conquer.

Seems like there's always something
looming.

A heartbreak.
A disappointment.
A driver that gets in my way.
A question that I cannot easily answer.

Even just after I
see
the most beautiful
golden
fire
rise of our star

or

the most delicious hug
or breathtaking connected conversation with a friend
or a phone call
I've been waiting for
but didn't even know it

or

a quiet, full of nothing and everything moment
while I rub the belly of my
innocent dog.


There is something.

The memory of that time that hurt so much,
The rejection from that person that I thought I needed.
The loss of what I thought was the core of me.
The boss that doesn't appreciate me.
The midnight trips to the freezer for ice cream.
The argument from a million years ago that still echoes in my mind.

There is                  always                    something.


Seems like that's just the way it is.

Experience beauty
and
work through stuff that challenges me.

And maybe
that's just the way
it is
supposed to


be.

Thursday, September 05, 2013

Kingdom

King of his world
All the people all the things
under his capable command.

The world outside

just a story
that someone else tells.

He keeps the walls of
his fortress
strong
and impenetrable,
his subjects adoring and loyal.

It had always been enough.

For a moment,
or just a little longer,
he was distracted.
His eyes averted from
his kingdom.
He allowed his mind
to wander from the painting that
is his world.

Like a hook in his fleshy cheek,
he was pulled.
His breath taken away as
he saw
what lie outside of
his kingdom.

Humbled and afraid
intrigued and intoxicated,
he knew that
there was more
than what existed inside.

But
what of
those that
looked to him
for their everything?

Their hope.
Their love.
Their adoration.
Their loyalty.
Their need.

Ultimately, he could not continue to look out of the opened window.
He could not bear the thought of their knowing that
he wanted more than his kingdom could provide.

So he grabbed the edge of that tiny, opened wooden door
that showed him the wonder
of more.
He swung it slowly on its hinges
and
he
closed
it.

A sliver of light shown through the edge of the door,
yet the latch
as it sunk into its lock
made an audible sound.

He knows that there is wonder outside of his kingdom,
but he will not taste it today.

Monday, September 02, 2013

Too Expensive

It was delicious
intoxicating
wonderful
perfect in so many ways.

She loved it more than almost everything.

but

It wasn't free.

He paid in stress, fear and risk.
She paid in money.

It wasn't free.

Interestingly, he lost the ability to pay before she did.
But she would have.
Eventually.

That beautiful thing that made her lose

her head
her heart
her mind
her thoughts
her reason

is no longer being funded.
Not
with money and not with risk.

She keeps kicking it
shaking it
screaming at it
grabbing onto the nothing of it
crying into the space that it held

trying to make it
continue running.

It ran so well.
so perfectly.
like a dancing ballerina inside a music box
playing the most delightful and exotic tune.

The thing is,
and what she failed to accept
is that it could not
keep running

without
payment.

Not this time around.

Her heart does not understand
that this thing
that was like a dream
and was so perfect
didn't belong here

for now.

Though she knows
with everything that she is
that it lives truly in a
somewhere that she cannot get to,

It was simply too expensive
to be here
now.

Sunday, July 07, 2013

Beautiful

Beautiful.

So many things are probably beautiful
that I can't see that way at all.

How come I sense that the things that hurt
and make me cry and hold my heart tight
and want to break apart into 
a million pieces
are 

somewhere

somehow

beautiful?

Is it that my scope and vision are simply too small to see?
That I see only the tiniest part of what is 
and describe it the way I have learned and been taught to describe things?

Have not the most painful and desolate times in my own life brought me to new 
places?
New views?
New awarenesses and abilities?

It is easy to look at a clear blue sky
the punch pink blossom of a bloom
the perfect smile of an unblemished baby
the waving green stalks of corn in an Iowa cornfield
a butterfly alit on a blade of grass for just a moment

and see beautiful.

But what of the storm that threatens?
The browned and dry petals fallen and forgotten?
The curled lips of a cleft palate on a child forgotten in an orphanage?
Of the burnt fields of a farmer wronged?
The broken wings of a life taken too soon?

To pry away the grey and dirt, the death and sorrow, the disappointment and fear

to find the hope of 
new.

That is far more difficult.

What if beautiful lives in the seed
of
everything?

If it is so,

might I
be able
to 
see.

Beautiful.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Nestling

Just outside of our bedroom window, there is a small hole into the roof of our house. Each spring it has been home to baby birds. We listen to them chirp like crazy when their mother comes in to feed them. 

This morning, when we let the dogs out, there was a little nestling crying a fearful chirp on our patio. The thought of leaving her there to fend off neighborhood cats, or even the reality of abandonment in the heat of the day crushed me. I gently picked her up in a cloth napkin, her fuzzy almost feathers rustling in the early morning breeze and her sunshine yellow beak yawned open hoping for momma's food.

Funny where love can happen.

Eric dragged a stool to the spot where she must have fallen from her nest, and stood, reaching to coax her back into the roof with her siblings. We feared touching her directly and used a wooden spoon to nudge her toward the opening. For many tries, she did not move, the trauma keeping her still.

My mind spun, thinking of what we would do if she could not make it in.
But then,
her tiny foot grasped a wire and she pulled herself in. I lay back in bed holding my breath as I looked out the window, hoping we hadn't disrupted anything beyond repair. A few minutes later, momma alit on a wire outside the nest, a worm in her mouth and in she went.

I breathed again.

Monday, May 13, 2013

People


I'm one of those people. the ones that talk,

reach,

send,

give,

create for
others.


I love other people.

I love their uniqueness

the texture and result of their choices

their voices

what they have to say.


Sometimes, when what they have to say differs

dramatically

from what I have to say...

well, that can be a challenge to appreciate


but in truth -- i do.


People fascinate me.

I love that each factor of our lives,

each choice,

each turn around a different bend

each surprise

each new moment

of

each

new

day creates a new pattern

an altered hue


a change.


I love reaching, and experiencing people.

I can discuss it in a way that makes me sound

altruistic and

painfully generous.


I can do that. Yet, in truth

I wonder if that is indeed the truth.


Not

altogether
I

am

sure.


For reaching and touching and connecting and giving and considering and loving and knowing and talking to and hoping for


others


does a couple of things for me.


One, it enriches me. It provides for me

new texture new shadows new sounds and music new things to consider


new ways to approach.

my.

life.

I love that. More than anything I believe.

People.


weird, sexy, wild, courageous, fearful, learning, wondering, judging, waiting, trembling, heart-filled, musical, conservative, cutting-edge, loving


people.


It does another thing for me as well. The darker side of all of this

people

other

than

me

focused

living.


It keeps me from the silence.

that is solely and completely inside my being
with
no
other
sound
but
my
own.


I know that I can live my life without really being all that concerned with that fact.

But there is a part of me that knows

that spending time in

this place is part of the next....

deeper....

wiser....

experience for me.


for all of us.


Being completely alone for me is not an exercise is fear -- as it is for some.

It is an undertaking of courage.

It is in the silence of me

that my spirit pauses and my mind

trembles.

Certainly my mind.


My mind loves to be busy... reaching, giving, considering, solving. But to send my mind to the still, quiet waters of my own being? With nothing to distract? Well..... you're asking
quite
a
lot.
So, I look at the yin and the yang, the up and the down, the soft and the hard, the you and the me of my life. and when I do
I long
to know
both.
To embrace the texture and the sound and the noise and the problems and the solutions and the music and the dance and the interaction of
others.
And, entwined with the patterns that live outside of the edges of my own mind
to know intimately.... my own, still silence.
Where i suspect
joys
and
secrets
reside.

Drop

in my life

i trust

that

the ongoing

gift.

the waterfall

of

friends

will continue.

drop.

by.

drop.


i trust

that

life

will honor

my request

for the next person

who will

open

my

eyes

and

bring joy

to my mind.


More colors

to the palate

of my experience.


thank you for being

a reminder.

and a new drop

of

color.

Heavy

I have a hard time when people don't love me.
It hurts when people don't want me
around them
in their lives.



I have a friend... Well, I had a friend.
Over some time, she was collecting complaints. Valid, I am certain.
She did not express them.
She did not choose
to have a hard conversation
with
me.

Instead, her complaints got very heavy.
Too heavy, too dense, too dark.
The bag that she kept them in became very heavy

and she couldn't see me any more.

Or, the me she saw through heavy, complaint laden eyes
didn't look like someone she wanted to be friends with anymore.

I have tried to open the door,
to say I'm sorry,
to own my actions and choices,
to ask forgiveness.

No.

Done.

Over.

It is a hard choice for me to understand.
Yet, it is her choice.

And because it is hard for me
I know that
there is much for me to learn.

That my worth is not tied to another's perception of me.

Stone

Time is beginning to stretch a bit, as I feel myself reaching
with one leg
from one stone to another, suspended above moving water.

Tempted to feel fear as I prepare to
change

again.

I have been on this stone for a little while
I remember when I first stepped on it.

All was new
and unknown
my mind a wide-eyed infant in a new place.
Learning to be me far away from my loves.

I have just a little bit longer on it.
To cherish those whom I have come to love.
To enjoy that which I have come to desire.

Thursday, May 09, 2013

Friends

"Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies. ~ Aristotle

What exists between you and me
is the only thing like that
that exists
in all of creation.
There is the thing that is you
and the thing that is me

and there is then
the thing that exists between
made of the stuff of you and
the stuff of me.

like paints mixing on a palette
like lemon juice mixed into sugar water
like salt and pepper in a bowl together
like harmonies

forever entwined
having become something all it's own

between us.
It could and can and will
never
exist anywhere
between any other someones
ever
again.

What exists between you and me, friend,
is a thing

a living, breathing, dancing, speaking, loving, laughing, learning, being
something.

When we became friends, you and I,
life breathed into that brand new something

like air into a balloon

and it began to                             float

          and dance on the breeze

and bounce on the ground              along          a     path        in    Central    Park

and hide behind
                             cars

and tie to the branch of a high, high tree.

It became a something
that will always be.

Wednesday, May 08, 2013

Change has happened.

Change has happened.

That's almost funny to express. As...
When does change not happen?

Every moment in every place from Utah to the farthest reaches of the least known universe

Change is happening
now
always

without cease.


Change has happened in me.
In my world.
Change that challenges my deepest resistances.
My oldest fears.
My weakest link.
My most tender place.
Change, again, has come
to remind me that it always will.

It is not change that you can see
from where you are.
From where you sit, you see nothing different.
My body, my home, my family, my work.  Same.

Except
change has happened.
It's not change that I will explain
or describe
or divulge

but change indeed has come
in a dose that has raised my hackles and demands my attention and requires that I stand up and take notice of just what I had failed to see.

Change has happened.

Stephen Hawking said, "Intelligence is the ability to adapt to change."
Isn't it though.
Whether that change is the loss of the musculature, or the loss of a parent, or the end of an education, or the corruption of something trusted, or the leaving of a place, or the end of a faith.

It is the ability to face what is so
and build
rather than sink

to create
rather than be blinded

to observe
rather than be victimized.


Intelligence.  No one said it would be easy.


Change has happened

and I sometimes question my own intelligence.
One moment
brilliance and light.
The next
abject ignorance and the temper tantrum of a wild, flailing child in the darkness.

Change begins the very moment any thing comes into existence,
you see.
Even the things you stand on now, with the confidence of Caesar.
You raise your hands and expose your heart knowing that those things are yours, beyond any threat,
and always will be.
As you stamp your foot on the solidity of your

love
family
money
house
friends
job
health
expectations of others
faith
joy
stories

the cracks of change have begun.

Change has happened.

Sunday, May 05, 2013

Exists.

Gonna try to hold my breath this week
and let the sand settle to the ground.

But just want you to know, that 
just like you, just like you can,

I can feel the most foundational feelings.
and that makes me feel better.
because no matter what.... you can't hide that from me.
No matter what words are used
and ideas are presented
and rules are garnered
and limits are set
what exists, exists, exists, exists.

Thank goodness.
Cuz' that will give me the courage
to 
wait,
and love you for where you are
and what you need
and who you love
right now.

forever
is bigger than
this.

Here's to you and 
all you hold dear.
Now.
and forever.

Friday, May 03, 2013

Forever.

Love.

How can something be so perfect and so big and so amazing
and
so painful and so lonely and so frustrating
yet
so wonderful and so needed and so everything
but
so hurtful and so misunderstood and so heartbreaking
?

Love.

How can something seem so permanent and so forever
and yet
be yanked away and leave a hole the size of Texas
but still
leave an imprint on top of the emptiness
that lets you
know that
the love really can't go anywhere?

Love.
It's forever.
Joy. Pain. Breath. Angst. Depth. More. Questions. Confusion. Precious Everything.

I
will
love
you
forever.

Love.


Monday, April 29, 2013

Let Me be Your Teacher, Girl.

Let me be your teacher, girl.

The pain of that which no longer is
is pain indeed.
It is painted with the blood of life and
experience.
It is submerged and soaked in the
love and intensity of the intoxicating dance
that brought you to this very point.


Let me be your teacher, girl.

Know that you are ok.
As the Seuss says,
"Don't be sad that it's over; smile because it happened."
And truly, my princess
it is never really over.
anything.
The energy that was, is and ever will be.
Once the brush has put it's stroke on the canvas, it will
always be there.


Let me be your teacher, girl.

The hole that you feel each time
another precious something
sinks into behind you,
it is not a hole at all.
It is simply the feeling of the tides
pouring out.
Allow the tide to be whatever it will be,
my, flower, and trust that when the
goodness fills again,
Joy will soothe you.

Let me be your teacher, girl.

Vast

Right now it just feels like the sound of my own voice screaming inside my head.

Hear me!
See me!
Let me out!

I want to feel the love I know is possible.

I want to express the exactness of what is inside of me in every way there is, creating a bridge from the inside of me to everyone else and there will be no not understanding. No translation necessary.


I want my words to matter
and yet
I know they do and they don't all at the same time.
There are millions of voices.
They have things to say, expressing their own inner understanding and turmoil and hatred and fear and discovery and wonder and trapped-ness.

Does everyone feel this way?
That there is this wholeness confined within the walls of who they are, and as hard as they try, they cannot share it completely.
It's like there is this vastness of wordless

color,
form,
light,
clarity

and there is really no way to share it.
I wonder if we all feel that way and we're looking for the bridge to one another in the wrong place.

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

I do.

I don't have room.

But see, I want to love you.
I love you.
I do.
But I don' t have room in my

mind
my
thoughts
my
home
my
life.

See.... I love you.
I do.
Really.
and I want to love you

I want to want you and love you and need you and consume you
but I don't have room
for you.
Except when I do.
Which is not
now.
But is sometimes.

I want to have you there
just where I want you
within reach
just within
the span of my touch.
But
I don't have room for you
today.
I have too many things filling up the room
in my
life
mind
thoughts
days
minutes
moments
and there is no room
for you
when you want there to be.

But I love you,
you see.

I do.

Sunday, February 03, 2013

What matters?

What matters?
Me?
My thoughts?
Yours?
Everyones?

What matters?
Inventions?
Evolution?
Change?
Stuff?

What matters?
Mystery?
Things we name but cannot know?
Wonder?
Silence?

What matters?
Story?
Explanation?
Intuition?
Words?

What matters?
Things we think we know?
Experiences we have had?
Knowing others are experiencing things?

What matters?
Sharing?
Giving?
Creating?
Thinking?
Being?

What matters?

Monday, January 21, 2013

Birth. Death. Birth. Death.

Life

So beautiful
Surrounded by love and warmth and the sounds of life.
Always cared for
in my home.
My beautiful home.
I was exactly where I was intended to be.
So grateful and at peace.

Then.

There was pain
tumult.
confusion
uncertainty
fear

Violent push and pull.

All I had worked for
and been.
Everything I had known.
The only life I'd known.

Being torn apart
ripped from me.
Forces beyond my control
harshly carrying me
to a place I had never been.

So
Scared.

dying. dying. dying. dying.

The violence subsided.
The chaos became still.
I was somewhere new.
Different altogether.

I never could have imagined what it would be like.
I didn't need to be scared at all.

Exactly where I was intended to be.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Noise

Big world
so much happening
media inundation
unrealistic expectation
noise abounds

voices
yelling
traffic
guns
media

the pressure to be
something
anything
other than.

disappointment in exactly what we are.

I have bumps and lumps and aches and questions and anxieties and a car that needs new brakes and dog hair on my couch and a green pepper that has died a slow and painful death in my crisper and projects not completed and boxes in my garage not traversed in years and weeds peppering my garden and doubts about my faith and friends I haven't talked to in too long.

Not knowing that
the only thing
worth listening to
resides in a still
small
voice which can only be heard
when
we are quiet
surrounded by the knowledge that it is there.

Knowledge that the small place
isn't small at all
but is simply the everything
the source
the space and mystery and pulse of all that is and ever was
which
sits not only
everywhere

but also in you.

Friday, October 05, 2012

today, tomorrow

If I were to die
today
tomorrow

would you still feel me
where i was?

would the imprint
of me
last
for
awhile?

If I were to die
today
tomorrow

What would you remember about me?

That I was

smart
talkative
obnoxious
creative
opinionated
pretty
fat
talented
lazy
inspiring
happy
pushy
thoughtful
needy
surprising
underachieving
cool
loving
connected
?

If I were to die
today
tomorrow

would
the scent of my perfume linger?

the sound of my voice permeate the silence of my absence?

the shape of my face appear in your mind?



would

my words
continue to
make
a
difference

if I were to die


?

Friday, August 10, 2012

Just Close Enough

Just close enough to the heat
Just close enough to the pain
Just close enough to the pink red orange blue every color there is
dancing
between you
like lightning laced with sweet sorrow
and delight

Just close enough to hear your questions
Just close enough to feel your want and anger and joy and
tears
the feeling is so real,
full of the everything and of the anger, the adoration of someone else's humanity
and arrogance
and love
and thoughtlessness
and want
and perfection

Just close enough to see into the tunnel
cave
chasm
endless meadow of flowers of every color
Just close enough to know that what is there
is something
special
something dangerous

something real

Just close enough to know that no matter what happens
No matter how long it lasts
No matter how far you remain
the thing you fear and the thing you long for and question and want and run from
die for
has already happened.


Friday, August 03, 2012

Why Girlfriends are Important.

Woman:  Hey, let's talk. Let's hang out till the night becomes morning, tell each other our stories, our histories. We can try to figure our why we are the way we are and sit for hours just saying everything that comes into our heads, teasing out our fears and our anxieties and then coming up with ways to become our best selves. Let's talk about what we like about ourselves and what we don't. Let's trust in one another our deepest thoughts, telling each other what we love about the other and let's just revel in what the other has to say.  Let's do that, over and over and over, ok?

Man:  No.

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Missing the Point

Sitting in the sun, feeling the yellow warm my freckled skin.

Right, but do you love me?



Eating a meal that teases my tingling tastes and delights me.

Well, that's all good, but do you love me?



Sitting on the bow of a boat, racing across deep blue wakes, wind whipping through my hair.

All good and everything, but... really... do you love me?



Laughing with a friend until my guts feel like they might bust.

Yep, that's super. I get it.  I have a question though.  Do you love me?



An hour in a hammock, reading a book that has me disappear into lands unknown.

Nice, truly.  I really dug that, I did.  Yet, do you love me?




Walking through the door to a burst of joyful "surprise!!!" and faces I adore.

Oh man, that was cool.  I'm not clear on something though.  Do you love me?




A walk through an art museum, intoxicated by the truth of others.

Nothing better, really.  I have a question though.  Do you love me?




Spending time with a friend, sharing, having real conversation, touching one another deeply.

Mmm. Yeah.... I see what you're saying. I hear you, I do. It's just....






Do you love me?


Friday, July 20, 2012

The Way I Want You To


I struggle.  angry. angsty because you don't do things
the way that I want you to.
You don't react to what I say or what I do or how I am
the way I want you to.

I get pissed off because in my mind, your words don't match your actions.
And mine is really the only version of life that matters, you see.
And so, therefore, I want you to act
the way I want you to.

Can't you see that I have an agenda
to create moments that have slipped into yesterday?
It's an important
undertaking.
And see, you are a character in my play, and it's important for me,
in order to experience life in my own particular desired way,

that you act

the way I want you to.


Listen, I can't imagine that you might have
a different way of seeing

or being
or thinking
or wanting
or loving
or needing
or growing
or expecting

than I do.  I'm sure that you want exactly what I do, exactly when I do.

See.

And that's why I want you to do things
exactly

the way I want you to.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Into View.

Lying next to my friend.
One who's been in the periphery of my life for as long as I can remember.
Wit and words dance as they always have
teasing me with what has always been, flirting with what
just might come into view.

I feel his hand brush across my hip, resting there
as we continue to talk.
Something new and soft.  Uncertain.
Creating a bridge for liquid honey to slide between
prickly
barbs of intellect and humor.

Bodies close.  Just enough space for heat to pass.
I loved the newness in that space enough to close it, pressing
my chest to his.
Like a curtain aloft, I could feel his life, his questions, his resignation
his desire.
My arms, my body, my mind surrounded him and watched the
lines in his furrowed brow dissolve
if only for a time        and
we talked, and felt, and shared.

Lying next to my friend.
One who's been in the periphery of my life for as long as I can remember.
Wit and words dance as they always have.
Soothing me with what has always been and what has come
into
view.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Listening

Listening
to
sounds.

Head cocked, stilling the canvas to hear
the sounds that give hint
to where I'm going
where I've been
who's been along for the ride.

sitting in heaps of pillow mountains
alone
feeling what is here
right
now.


What is here? Shhhh.


Feeling what was.
Where I was.
With whom.
The feel of the breeze that blew across my skin on that yellow day
alone in the grass.
The way touch felt
fingertips draping along my
white and naked skin
calling silent moans from a far away place.
Crack of thunder
whipping to my center reminding

me of

the sounds of metallic drumming music singing
in my ears
teasing my innocence with magnetic laughter
mocking
me from inside myself

titillation
in a garbage heap

Shhhh.

Sitting amidst white pillows
colored with present stillness
Thinking of what was.
Where I've been.

Listening
.


Tuesday, July 10, 2012

NFW

Sometimes there are just no fucking words.

Just feelings.
and I feels so damn deeply
and it hurts.

I want every single person I love
love
loved
ever

here.  in me. with me. near me. with me.
seeing me and loving me back.

now.

Sometimes there are no fucking words
and when I try to explain what is going on inside of me
I can't.
and I know I just end up sounding like a weepy, unstable mess.

It is messy.
and it's beautiful.
and it's fucking what I do
and how I feel life.

It's how I love
and how I need
and what I use
to color the day to day moment to moment.

Sometimes there are just no fucking words.


Air Drag

I'm impossible.  Honestly. Seriously. Incredibly. impossible.

I don't transition well emotionally.
This hurts, and it hurts even more because I know I'm the only one it hurts for.


I've noticed that some can move on to the next thing with slippery, effortless ease

the next day
the next event
the next person
the next conversation
the next view

I watch this skill with awe and admiration.

I turn my back and look over my shoulder
watching whatever it is that I am already
longing for.

get smaller
and smaller
and


I know that I'm physically removed from the place, the person, the...
but like a comet's tail
it clings to me and I to it, feeling it
drag on the air and keep me from slipping into the fast lane.

I feel the thing that is no longer here while seeing something completely new.
My heart has no idea what to do.

Luckily, I have been through this tunnel before and I happen to know that regardless of how entrenched I try to dig my heels in the clay of time's movement

I will come out the other side
just fine.

Friday, July 06, 2012

Lies

Don't lean on me.
I have nothing to offer.

Your opinion of me makes me crazy
and I'm just not what you see.
Stop making me feel like I might be wrong
about myself.

I have nothing to offer.

Ya see, I'm just not good enough,
and when you look at me with those eyes
that say I'm something...
Well, it makes me want to prove to you
that I'm not.

See, I have nothing to give
despite what you see.

You say you admire my talent,
but I know it's nothing special.
You want to hear my words, but you're simply
deluded.
You compliment my interests, but they
ain't all that special.

See, I know what you clearly don't.

I'm nothing special.

Orange Blossom Sound

Sliding through orange blossom sound
tickling baby pink skin
the sounds, colors that have no names
sneaking through the barriers that hold me together
my outsides, just an illusion

Your language, a dynamic textured tapestry
sounds that I never would have considered

I am learning it.

Show me things I haven't seen
Sing me songs that I have never heard
Touch the places I didn't know were there

Soothe my tongue with starry syrup
and stir my forever
with
yours.

Things

There are things in this life
Things that bring so much stimulation and joy
things that make my mind bigger and the edges move further out

There are things that surprise me
And make me wonder
Things that have me track my eyes back to see if I can see where it started

There are things that hook themselves into me
and I know that even if the thing itself goes away
it will never be unhooked

There are things.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Me Neither

Do you ever feel like you have no idea what you're doing?
Like, you're doing stuff you agreed to do, but are totally bullshitting your way through it?

Do you ever feel like you're an imposter and all of these people think you are some sort of expert, and really inside you wonder if they can tell that you feel ... at best, average and sometimes way less than that?

Do you ever feel like you wonder if the thing you're supposed to be doing will ever come clear? Like, crystal clear. Angel with a big sign, clear. Airplane writing in the sky clear. And then the path to that thing, whatever it is that you're supposed to be doing will open up like a moving sidewalk in the airport and you can just step on and you'll be on your way? The angels will sing and the air will turn golden because you've FINALLY gotten on the right path?

Do you ever feel that way?

No?  Oh. Uh...Me neither.


Sunday, April 22, 2012

I Don't Know How it Works

I don't know how it works.

But... Sometimes I feel like there are hints, or glimpses into the space where how it works lives. I don't know if I'm right. No idea. I have a feeling that it doesn't matter, really.
Like, when it's been a long time since something. There is part of me that knows that somewhere,
somehow, it hasn't been long at all.

A blink.

A moment.

Spaceless, timeless, everything-full something.


I don't know how it works.


I really, really have no idea.  There was a time that I thought I knew. I was harmlessly taught the truth about it all.  And that was ok. Yet....  I'm pretty confident now, that there is much more to it than the story I was told.  All of us write stories to explain that which we innately experience. All of us, everywhere.


I don't know how it works.


Honestly. I don't, and I don't think anyone else does either, except for the all-knowing, something inside of each and every one of us that whispers hints to our quiet, noisy minds. It's like being given one or two pieces to an eight-million piece jigsaw puzzle.  Or...maybe four pieces.


I don't know how it works.


But sometimes.... all times.... I feel this

something.

I sort of want to call it love, and I think it is, but... I heard recently a quote that said, "The truth is the truth until you name it. Then it becomes a lie." So this something, this thing I want to call love, is ... i think... much much more than a name could ever justify.  I think. But then again....


I don't know how it works.


And still, there is this peace that resides beneath all of the questions and all of the rumors, and all of the fears and stories and threats and wonders and theories and ... all of it.  As if it is maybe the very IS that all of those things are sprouted from.  But I don't know.


I don't know how it works.


And

I'm
okay
with
that.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Turn.

I stayed still
as I woke today,
hovering in that soft, grey ether space where waking up happens.

I thought about how life can so much be like
turning one's head to look at a snapshot.

Turn,
a still.

Turn.
a moment in time.

Turn.
A smile, an expression of love, an act of anger, a parent, a friend.

and then you turn your head again
for a split second
and that picture is gone,
replaced
by a new one
a different moment
altogether.

I decided to begin looking at those photos in my mind
and I wish I could show them to you.

I want you to see them, the filtered green light of the ones from when I was a very young child.
I want you to see the one with my mother making dinner in the kitchen with orange, metallic wallpaper.
I want you to catch the one of that moment outside when my dad was talking to the neighbor and slid me his can of beer for a sip.
I want you view the moment and to know the feeling in my little mind when he left our home with an army green duffle bag, for the last time.
I want you to hover in anticipation with me as my young sister and I awaited our mom's new friend to come to the door as we played toss-a-ring-around-a-daisy in the entryway.
I want you to hurt with me when you see the shot of when I rolled my sky blue 10 speed into the house next to the yellow couch where my mother lay, dying, to show her my new birthday present.
I want your eyes with mine as we look at a picture of when I lay on the bottom bunk of my sister's trundle bed, the light in the late-night hallway mocking the time, as the sounds of quiet-voiced strangers wheeling my mother's body out of our house.

When I look back,
the photo has changed again.

Time has moved.
Particles altered
Players replaced.
Sets changed.

I see a picture, no longer edged when white, tiny black numbers narrating the date,
but one where the picture goes all the way to the edge.
The corners rounded.

Turn. A new woman in our kitchen making a salad. Light easy banter with dad, and we girls standing around.

Turn.  A surprise 40th birthday party for my dad, gag-gifts presented by his friends.

Turn. The house we moved into, big and beautiful on a sunny day. White curtains hanging in an empty room before our things made their entrance.

Turn. Yellow light on a September day, a wedding...  So many people I don't know. A happy, confusing day for me.

I wanted the photos continue.  Thy took me through the halls of my Junior High, showed me a moment when I got a locket from my 6th grade boyfriend, the day a student bounced a fish eye in science class, a fight with my 7th grade best friend when I threw her yellow jelly jacket into the hallway.

The pictures would have kept coming,
changing with the turn of my head
reminding me of my own, specific story.  But for right now, I'll stop them there. Maybe later I'll go on.

I wish I could show these pictures to you, so you could feel my life.
Feel what it is like to be me.

You have photos too. Moments that are forever filed in your mind.
Have you looked at them lately?

Friday, February 24, 2012

Isness

You are art.
Your voice is beautiful
and meaningful.

Your expression is a delight
to the canvas on which
it is
expressed.

You are something.
Even if you feel like you're trapped
inside a shell
that you can't break.
Even if you don't understand
your own
isness.

You are.

Art.

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Inside of me.

There's this feeling
stirring inside of me
it's made of things and thoughts and questions and fears and wonders

There's this feeling
sitting like a rock
inside of my insides
making me sort of sad
making me wonder why it's there

There's this feeling
reaching out
from inside of me
seemingly to everyone else
or someone else.
It feels like it's telling me that it has twins
out there
in other
people.

Funny how it feels like I'm the only one who has it
or feels it
or doesn't like it
or wants it gone
or wants to know that it's in someone else too.

There's this feeling
inside of me.


Tuesday, December 20, 2011

I'm Loving You.

I'm loving you.

While you're making breakfast
I'm loving you.

While you're teaching kids
I'm loving you.

While you're weeding the yard
I'm loving you.

While you're paying bills
I'm loving you.

While you're changing diapers
I'm loving you.

While you're having sex
I'm loving you.

While you're not remembering me
I'm loving you.

While you're working
I'm loving you.

While you're meeting new people
I'm loving you.

While you're living your life

I'm
loving
you.

Saturday, August 06, 2011

Knowing. Waiting. Wanting. Learning.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

I Know Better

Floundering.
Like a toddler thrashing about in ankle deep water.

Knowing that I am safe and that nothing bad has or will happen,
it is simply change --
change that has happened
changed the landscape
changed the faces
changed the day to day experiences
simply change
nothing more.

Yet, there is little comforting the dispassionate child within me.

She wails and flails and wants to move backward in time.
In fact



She


insists


upon it.



Like Veruca Salt, she stomps her feet and shakes her hair as if these things will influence the inevitable movement of life.

Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!
Flail!
Shake!
A dance of unbridled crazy
manifest in movements that think they are much bigger than they are...

Parenting myself,
I stroke my hair
peppering my face with baby kisses
caressing my unwilling skin
giving promises of relief...


Peace will be here soon little lamb.

She renounces my attempts and strikes at me, refusing to believe these lies.

I hold her tightly,
loving her,
knowing that she will make it through this, and that....

I

know

better.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Breath

You take my breath away.

It's not the things that you say,
though they are interesting and often
make me laugh.

It's not the way you look,
though you are certainly handsome and
pleasing to the eye.

It's not the way you work,
though you are talented and
impress me with your skill.


You take my breath away.


It's the way that you are.
You are authentic and meet me in a place that
only you can find.

It's the way that you feel.
You are passionate and you invite me into a dance that
I cannot resist.

It's the way that you touch.
Your very essence comes through your fingers
and wordlessly shows me who
you are.


You
take
my
breath


away.

All of You

I'd love to talk to you right now.

Wondering what you're doing in your world
which never stops whirling and moving
and requires


all
of
you.


I'd love to hear your voice right now.

Knowing that today it's saying what it says
in the midst of loving and doing.
Meeting obligations and needs
of the things and people that demand


all
of
you.


I'd love to feel your touch right now.

Aware that at this moment your hands guide your children
and hold your love
and you reach and do and feed and caress them with


all
of
you.


I'd love to merge myself with you right now.

Longing to crawl inside your body and soul
that works so hard, loves so deeply, never stops doing what needs to be done...
and I watch you from inside my mind

from afar,
because I love




all
of
you.

Looks for You

Moving throughout my day...
my life... my world...

My soul looks for you.

Peering between people at work
...the books on my desk
...the cars on the road
Behind the trees and buildings that I pass each day...

My soul looks for you.

There is a commitment to my life and what I do.
And as my life moves along, there is a quiet awareness

Of you........ Your eyes...... Your voice..... Your energy...

that simply oozes into the cracks between the every day events of my passing experiences.

And as I do about the life that I have and that I love...
I cannot stop that,
regardless of what is going on...

My
soul
looks
for
you.

Sunday, May 08, 2011

Mother's Day

Mother's Day is a complicated day for me. About a week prior to it, I become aware of the marketing going on: the cards... the flowers... the gifts and acknowledgements. As I become older, I am able to be somewhat more conscious about what is going on inside of me. I can sense a subtle "fingers in the ears and singing lalalalalalalala" thing happening in me. I simply don't want to look at it, hear it, feel it. I sort of want to hide under my soft pillows and will Monday to get here.

Because my mom died just 13 days after my 10th birthday, I have never had the opportunity to celebrate Mother's Day as an adult. I have never been able to write my thoughts in a card that I bought, or create a bouquet of yellow roses and babies' breath for her, knowing those are her favorite flowers. I have never been able to invite her out to lunch and spoil her with tapas and sangria while we laugh about what a brat I was when I was a kid. I have never been able to actively and consciously celebrate my mom along with all of my human peers that still have their mothers here on earth.
Layer all of that with the fact that I, myself, don't have human children of my own, and my husband's mom passed when he was 21, the day feels like one of those greyed out boxes on an airline availability calendar.

All that being said, as I was thinking about Mother's Day this morning, I was overcome with the feeling that, aside from the common understanding of "mother", one can mother, and be mothered, regardless of one's reproductive, adoptive, or parentless state. There have been several women who have mothered me. My Aunt Kae, who is my mom's sister, has sent me a steady stream of love for as long as I can remember. My Dad Rusk's ex, Linda, remains steadfast in my mind as a mothering presence after my mom died, and Maxine... my step-mother, who, despite my angry, adolescent attempts at alienating her, has been a steady in my life.

Finally, I know that I am not alone in my melancholy on this day. One friend lost her mom just a four years ago. Another's mother is alive, but is lost to her for other reasons. And many, many other people I know are missing their moms today. So, for all of those who share this complicated day with me..... I send to you all that a mother is: love, dedicated adoration, healing, and the smell of homemade cookies as well as a knowing that no matter what, we are loved by those who gave us life, gave us home, and who gave us a kiss when we skinned our knees - wherever they are.


Sunday, April 24, 2011

Won't Listen

Goodbye hurts for me.

Clearly, the anticipation of goodbye
hurts for me.

My mind is aware that everything always works out just fine,
but there is a more powerful part of me that simply out and out refuses to
buy it.

My mind can look back at all the years I've traveled
and know
that goodbye doesn't truly hurt; for there have been many, many goodbyes on those roads.

Nothing bad happens.

Life moves on, and lots and lots of beauty happens.
Laughs, Joys, New People, New Places, New Thoughts that bring it all into crystal clear focus.

But that other part of me
wants life to stop

moving
stand still
cease its forward motion
and just
let me stay
motionless
in the picture that my heart thinks it might just want to stay in

forever.

But the picture never stays... does it.
It is an ever shifting

moving
changing
leaving
going
coming
swirling

mass of colors and people and places and events and experiences and and and and...

And my mind knows that it is good that life forever unfolds
that way.

But there is a place in my heart

that
just

won't


listen.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Just Fine.

My heart hurts.

I am on the precipice of a big change. Change of place. Change of people. Change of Circumstance.

It feels so permanent, so .... different. As if the sweet, soft cotton that surrounds my heart will be ripped away to expose raw, unprotected flesh.

My heart, the one that is a young and impressionable girl...
the one that weeps, feeling alone...
the one that desperately tries to cling to people and places in certainty that if she holds tight enough
they will never, ever leave..

She is hurting.
She doesn't want to lose what she has.
She feels that she will most certainly be hurdled into a dark abyss

alone.

I know, in my mind, that none of this is true.

None of this is true.
None of this is true.
None of this is true.

It has never been true before, and I have felt this very way
many times.

Times when I have been left by someone I love. Times when the rug was pulled out from under my unsuspecting feet. Times when the page was turned without my consent. Times when a player in the script of my life was eliminated from the play in a breath of smoke--

and like a child who did a belly flop into still, glassy water -- the breath in my being
sucked out. Fast.


There have been times when I have felt that I was
Left sitting in the tire tracks of someone that I thought was the key to my very existence.
Holding my bloodied, wounded heart in my own hands
Completely unaware how to put it back together.
Darkness covering the sun, who's warmth I was denied, for what felt like

Forever.


Yet, in every case,
the sun came out again.

Yellow. Warm. Life-giving. All-encompassing. Joy singing.

Sun.


Silly girl...
The sun was never hidden for even one moment but for your own hands before your eyes.

Silly girl...
The love you have felt can never leave you, but for your own insistence of separation.

Silly girl...
The life you were promised always sits just before you, a road to the next beautiful, amazing thing just a footstep away from where you are.

Silly girl...
You are never, ever alone, not even for an instant.

And everything

everything
everything
everything
everything

Is going to be...


Just.
Fine.

Monday, October 18, 2010

I Wouldn't.

Sometimes feelings are so big.
Making us think that there is nothing else
and nowhere
and no one.....

else.

Just the one thing
from where the feeling comes.

So big that it fills out all of my edges
and nooks and crannies.
It's warmth oozing in every space...
that for now...
it's all I see.

All I want to see.

Feelings, tempting me to keep my eyes
focused only on

it.

Such a delicious
languid
yummy
thing.

Knowing that feelings and moments and certain kinds of joys
are not forever
but are just for special
secret
magical

moments


Brings me joy.
and
Brings me sorrow

all at the same time.

If you knew that your yummy, delicious, precious, languid, amazing moment

were just for a little while,
and that losing it would bring pain

would you forgo the joy it brings?

I wouldn't.


Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Under Your Hands

Under your hands
My mind frozen in helpless pause,
my body turned to golden clay
under your knowing touch.

Under your hands
My soul breaks opens to a million glittering sparkles
as I anticipate the magic
that might tread upon my skin.

Under your hands
My breath awaits your consult

and holds
and releases

according to the dance that you choreograph.

Out of nowhere. And everywhere.



Under your hands
Time simply
stands
still
and I feel nothing

but
bliss.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

My Love.

There you are
again.

I love you like a leaf greets the morning's dew
with joy,
expectation, and
gratitude.
With breathtaking relief after the dryness of a day's sun and the darkness of night, you come with the breaking of the yellow sun.

Our love.

I could not have written it
or found it
or sought it
on my own.

Perhaps it comes from a far away, forever sort of place.

People look at it through opened windows,
and smile, thinking,
They have a good thing. Seems nice. Seems real.

Honestly, they have no idea, do they......

Our love does not include some of the same tethers
or requirements, shoulds or possessiveness that our world has written as rules .
We trust one another to be exactly who we need to be.

I watch you dive into your world from the sidelines, knowing you are loving what I cannot love. You let me run and laugh and be, knowing I am loving what you cannot love.

And at night, after our days
of often independent lives,

We lie together
and
love.

I am ever

so

grateful

for

you

.