Reaching out beyond the dream of what you thought was real, spinning on this ball of life, head now under heel. Ready to die, to live this life so raw, alive on ledge- dancing, hurling, freeing your soul to finally stretch the edge.

Sunday, July 31, 2011


In an early morning hour I was abruptly woken by silence.  All that I could see beyond my door was the gray that clung to the pine branches.  Quiet was the obvious force which commanded me to look around and see that it was just me in a world of silence.

A few thoughts made their best efforts to muddle around my head, but I banished them all.  Especially the one that has been aching and nagging me.  "Pain, pain, go away, come back some other day..."

Before long I heard a noise which lingered in the distance. It soon came again, but with a bit more volume and vibration.  Thunder delightfully filled the air, my ears and my heart. What is it about that overpowering, omnipotent force to which our souls submit, that sets us free?  These reverberations of greatness always seem to calm me.  As my soul danced in the exhilaration of all of the mayhem, the gentle, steady rain began.

While I stirred my coffee I looked out and saw one hilltop, not too far away, loosely wrapped in a wispy ribbon of cloud.  Hey, thank you for the gifts.  Always, always, be thankful for whatever comes.

Friday, July 29, 2011

top shelf dreams

Fumbling in the dark trying to
Invent some new recipe
Just don’t even know
What to add anymore

Electricity’s gone out
Candles are fading
And dinner time
Is almost here
Across the hills
Float sounds of
beckoned children
calling back to home

My belly’s growling
My mouth is salivating
My want is yearning
And the pan is burning dry

Not another hungry night
Please, not another one
In the pantry on the top
Shelf in the dark

Lined up bottles of this
And that
Some of them are empty
And some of them are shot

I grab at anything
It would have to be
Better than
Nothing at all

Gotta try it out
Gotta put something
In the pan
Or I’ll starve to death, for sure

In the dark closet
Where I can no longer see
What is on that top shelf
The bottom line is that

Even poison seems
Like sustenance
In the middle of
All of this hungering

It would be better to starve
this slow cruel death than to
Sear my insides on your
Burning, empty, charred skillet

It seemed so good
As I reached into the dark
For something that
Might save me

You were there
On the top shelf
With your bottom line
Watching me sizzle and burn


"Gratitude is a vaccine, an antitoxin, and an antiseptic." - John Henry Jowett
Find something to be thankful for in every moment and situation. This prevents disappointment from owning you, and empowers you with love and light. You can always be grateful for the strength and wisdom your current difficulty will leave you as a souvenir.  You know it will.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Saved by the quell

There was a time in my life when I was a control freak.  It was impossible to think that anyone could possibly have done things the way they needed to be done- my way.

One day I realized that all people were beautiful and smart, and had their own rights to perfection, as they saw it.  That was the day that I started to love life, and love others.

Now I like watching things unfold and enjoying the humor in all of our imperfections because imperfections are real (and sometimes they're damn funny!).  Perfection is not- it's just an impairment which prohibits us from living and breathing deeply.


Thursday, July 21, 2011

The Read Carpet

A giggle, a tickle, 
a sweet, steamy glance
A heart beat so thunderous
Might warrant this chance
This patience, this caring,
This broad understanding
You lingered, you tasted and
You hung from the rafters
In this land of abundance
Where rules are not
Written and the rent is
Nothing more than to be
Lovingly smitten
For the calling is only
Two sweet, beating hearts
And the living is free of
suppositions or darts
where scores are not kept
and blame is not met
for love is the gift
in each song that we script
so open so wide
is my heart
for the taking
and love is our
gift and ours for
the making
I lay red petals
Down along the path
To my door
And cite lyrical
Gems for you to adore
Come closer
Come closer
Come right through this door
And Love, lay me down
Sweetly now, and
Forever more

Morning has broken... me

Everlasting moment of my
eyes in their early morning's opening
show me birds flitting between
the pines and dancing
upon branches
the cool, morning breath
brushes my skin so tenderly
the breeze brushes
my tousled hair leaving
it kinda crazy
my feet touch the cool ground
as my toes spread wide and easy
upon the strong, gentle earth
can the earth sense my movement?
as I dance in jubilation
bowing to the points
encompassed in its fascination
PACHAMAMA, I do thank you
for all these gifts of morning
for the gratitude that wells inside
me in each new day's fine dawning
all within this moment
which lingers eternally...

Quiet has given me a renewed sense of wonder and an appreciation for the bliss that comes in each sweet breath drawn and then surrendered, when given in gratitude.  I wondered how a person so addicted to doing would survive this detour.  But I have surpassed survival and attained a new bliss and am thankful for all of this simple wonder even more than ever before.  Either that, or I am perhaps, just really good at being lazy!

Sunday, July 17, 2011


Someone recently asked about forgiveness.  After thinking about it for a little while the best definition that I can form is that forgiveness is love, when love isn't so easy to give.

Forgive and forget are two great strategies, but unfortunately since we are intelligent, thinking beings the forgetting part seems more impossible than natural.  When I think about times in my life when I have had to learn to forget, I can still begin to fidget a bit when I think about the hurts that I endured.  There's nothing wrong with this.  Hurt is hurt.  If you ignore it it's just going to hide and come get you in the night.  Hurt. And then become one with the feeling.  Then do it again when it comes up again.  And again when you have to.

Very few people make a conscious choice that sounds something like this, "I think I'm going to be really selfish and hurt Laura today.  No wait, perhaps I'll continue to hurt her for a long time..."  People do things without thought or intent, far more often than we realize.  What we must realize is that these people are love and are not diabolical strategists bent on ruining our lives.  Some of them, anyway.  Our feelings and reactions are the responsibilities of no one, but ourselves.

The greatest trick to forgiving is learning to forgive yourself.  When we are comfortable being one with our hurt or our guilt, we can move on (for the time being).  Realizing that we are only responsible for our own actions and reactions, and not those of anyone else, is the key to our freedom.  Sure, I can dwell on what an ex-husband did to me and I can hold a grudge because of failed promises that came up empty and I can be sore because I did keep my end of the bargain.  But those were MY choices to stay there, to take what he gave and to be bitter about it.

Tonight I was thinking about how wonderful it must be to be able to be whatever you are, and know that love will always be there for you.  During my marriage there were times when my husband was unbearable and I endured those, waiting for the better times to re-emerge.  I always honored him for the good that he was, in spite of what he wasn't.  I took the good with the bad, but for a long time I was angry at myself for doing that.  You know, when I excise all of the assignations of blame and responsibility from the situation, I am left with knowing that I loved well a lot of the time, and a clear knowledge of something to want for myself going forward.

Forgiveness definitely comes in stages and when we allow ourselves to honor the good and are not compelled to qualify the bad, we are a whole lot closer to freedom.  The important thing in all of this, I believe, is wanting to forgive, or wanting to remember the love that we have for someone- even when they don't make it easy for us.  When the storm finally subsides we are often left with a new arrangement which sometimes means there will be a different relationship, but as long as we honor the good in ourselves and our others, there is light with us, even in the darkness, and this is nothing to fear.

Friday, July 8, 2011

last call

As this day dims I am swaddled in the truth that it doesn't matter what did or didn't happen.  It doesn't matter how hard or tasty or sweet anything was.  If it was done with honor, in earnest, and with enthusiasm- it was a day well spent.  And it was.

Sweet dreams...

A celebration of L*I*G*H*T

Isn't it like a setting sun
which you think your eyes will
no longer see
yet that bright light suddenly blinds
you, peeking through the filtered

Isn't love that way?
When you think you  have lost its
bright wonder...
but then it sneaks up
on you in a smile,
or something to remember

Kindness and caring
are life's greatest gifts for the living
but as candles and photos fade
these gifts cannot be cremated
by the cold of ordinary,
thermic flames

I walked the world to find
you in every setting sun
I lived pain and joy, with and beside you,
and I wait for you in each new rising
And now that you're gone you mean
more than ever

Isn't life funny
how its gifts so few are plenty
and that it matters not how many..
because when the light slips away
your love still warms me...

ALWAYS and forever

*for beautiful Sue

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Bricks or stones

How do you tear down a wall
that isn't really there?
If its constructs are merely
imagination's deepest fear?

How do you slay a dragon
with its fiery, fatal breath?
When fantasy alone cannot
challenge you to death?

How do you not drown
in spite of your life which suffocates you?
How do you live in solace
when love is all around you?

You cannot see with your
scorched brown eyes, from behind your brick and mortar
You have chosen instead to call on death
and hide within its shelter

bricks or stones
can break your bones
but love will never harm you

Sunday, July 3, 2011

The Hotel Durant

Sitting in the window
Of my fashionable hotel
I sip the Pinot Grigio
As the waiter walks away

Looking at the crowd
All the people passing by
Looking back at me as if
I was a monkey on display

There are giggling girls
And neck-cranked leering boys
There’s a mom with a stroller
Mesmerized by her beautiful baby as he fades away

I lift my glass, keeping constant my gaze
Through my white wine
I see an orchestral and colorful movement,
A spiraling haze

The waiter returned and placed
My lunch on the crisp white tablecloth
His finger covered in a bright blue
Rubber finger tip, part of which looked purple

Ahhhh… fish with mango tartar sauce…
Turning back with a small bite in my mouth
I see an older couple standing crowded in a doorway
Eating hot dogs in their buns… together

A dark skinned woman with shorts that are
Way too small hurries her skinny partner-lover
Along the crowded road
And he obliges

My own summer browned skin
That makes people stare
I admire for a moment against
The sparkling silver wares- no one sees it, but me

And I look up and wonder why the
Dark skinned woman who is too fat
And too harsh, is so loved
By the skinny man

Or why was the pony-tailed man
In the jeans too short
Escorted by the kindness
Of another life, of course?

The waiter asked if I wanted more wine as
A drop of blood fell from his purple rubber finger
Hitting the table with a silent thud
As I sit alone in the window, pretending not to notice

Making me wonder…
In my fashionable hotel
as I sit alone with my summer browned skin
And my beautiful clothes

Do you think
I should be drinking
Red wine

Through which
they cannot,
My envy,


How can you define something that means
something different to each person?
How can you call a color
just one color?
When it means something
different to each or the other?
How can you call it chirping
when each bird is
singing of a different
sunset, or calling a different warning?
How can you call it sweet
when you don't know
how it tastes on his tongue
or hers- or on mine?
What is this love
that you speak of?
How do you know how it wakes me
or breaks me
or calls me its own?

Friday, July 1, 2011

Breakfast at Henry's

As hard as yesterday was in a physical sense for me, it yielded a joyous sigh of relief. My son who has in the past been a prisoner of anxiety, has chosen to not let this demon steal his dream.  It's been so long since Frank has been on a road trip, but he insisted on being the captain of the road, as we rocketed across the Grapevine to this beautiful city.  He chose courage and enthusiasm to be his lights as I watched him, smiling, greeting his future class and study mates.  My soul was thrilled over dinner, when he shared how he already connected with the faculty and leaders of his philosophical future.

Whew.  It's been a rough road, during which I often worried, cried and fretted about the future.  But there were so many times that I threw my hands up, yelling "WHEE!" and made it here in one piece.  The latter, were the times most worth remembering.

Frank slept in this morning so I put on a pretty skirt and scarf, grabbed an easy read, and headed down to the restaurant, Henry's.  There was one obvious choice on the menu, the Breakfast Banana Split!  It was a split banana with cottage cheese and vibrant fresh fruit, drizzled in a slightly sweetened raspberry sauce and roasted almonds.  Too pretty to eat, I took its picture and then dug in.  Damn, but life is good.  Looking around at all of the beautiful decor, including a big, white owl on the serving cabinet, I chose to let all the beauty of the moment fill in the spaces between all that was.

Dreaming about how much fun we are going to have today as we visit Moses Hall (the Philosophy hub at Berkeley), buying t-shirts, checking out more vegan restaurants, and talking about the excitement of Frankie's dreams... I remembered how hard and painful yesterday was.  I had to quit the orientation half way through because of my pain.  Looking down at my crutches I noticed how pretty the polished metal was in that beautiful glowing light of morning.  My heart took my thoughts away from my mind, reminding me of all that I have learned because of this injury, and in that moment I also pictured the woman who cleaned my hotel room yesterday.  Earlier in the morning I was angry when I realized that my favorite eye shadow was gone, but in that heart's bursting I wished her a feeling of joy- hoping that my gift made her feel more beautiful.

It is in that space, and that choice in every moment, that we have the ability to choose what we want to be... what we want to feel... and what we invite back to us.

Om nama shivaya!