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, August 28, 2011

I think that what I miss the most about being loved is the warm, strong chest to lay my head on, while we talk, lay quietly, touch each other sweetly, bask in the light...

or maybe it's someone to talk to each night, who cares about whatever it is I have to say whether happy or sad...

but oh, the feeling of warmth when I'm shopping in the grocery store, to make him something delicious for dinner. And something sweet for dessert...

Waking up early and staring at a beautiful face, so peacefully sleeping. Drinking my coffee and thinking about him, then climbing back into bed to be next to him, to be with him...

Feeling as if the world is mine because this beautiful man loves me, and cares for me, and exercises his thoughtfulness and sweetness, always giving to me...

Someone to laugh with...

Someone to cry with...

Someone to be silent with...

Falling asleep next to him, touching. Then waking up in the middle of the night and making love again... maybe for a few minutes, maybe for an hour... maybe forever...

Let not my heart be weighted
Nor my love be blind or shaded
If my light be sadly faded
When love once again comes fated,
Knocking at my door
May two fiery souls’ union
Come to me none too soon then
With a blessed and warm reunion
Of souls' unabashed communion...

Oh love, come call on me

Friday, August 26, 2011


So I was thinking... (imagine that) since I got lost in a thought this morning, about why some love stays and some love goes.  Earlier I wrote about how giving love is never really a loss because it all adds itself into the love that someone is and becomes.  These gifts are never in vain.

Countless childhood memories see me as a child watching my mother putting puzzles together.  She would sit there humming endlessly because this one event was always her passport out of reality.  There were no chores to be done, no supper to cook, no children to be tended to.  There was just a pretty picture to hum her way through.

My favorite part of assembling a puzzle was always putting the edge rows together.  Those always made sense to me because they were sharp, clear and had limited directional possibilities.The insides always frustrated me and unless the puzzle was 100 pieces or less, I usually walked away before it was done.

It took me a long time to realize that puzzles are just not my thing.  I wonder what else I need to learn...


You know that hot, stagnant day that seems to last forever.  Then there's a pop, another crackle a few minutes later.  It happens again after a little while.  Then it's like a brick of firecrackers ferociously exploding in an abundance of noisy energy.

That's what it's like inside my head, today.  The fourth of July.

Stretch marks

For I, who dances in the starry night
me, the one who sees the colors
within the brightness of white light
I called on you to hold my hand
I beckoned you to see me through
I felt you walking by my side
but now tell me is this real...
or have I simply gone mad?

In the secrets I hear in the morning hour
near the edge of breaking dawn
within the abandon of cloudy rides
or journeys to the fire within
The maddening edge from which I jump
to arrive at bliss's door
Tell me, for I who once did not believe
Is this sweet dream my heaven?

The form of emptiness

Why do the days when your heart is so heavy, last so damn long?

These last few months have brought more disappointment and heartache than I would have chosen had life offered me a menu.  Really- who would consciously choose from the back page "Lose it" category, when appetizers, entrees and desserts are an option?

Heavy in my thoughts is the possibility that I am working out my previous lives' karmic debts.  I do not dare to make a decision on my opinion on that whole possibility, as I have nothing to go on, other than it would explain a lot.  But what I am left with must not be wrestled with, as that will simply exhaust my energies and probably result in nothing more than two losers- me and a theory.  Instead I must just be with what is.  

Leaving Frank in a state of fear and anxiety could have done no less than break my heart.  It's still broken and leaking and I suspect will remain so for quite some time.  And yet, it forced me to see not just the residues of both the mistakes I made along the way, as well as the shattered debris that I once thought was the absence of joy. When his brilliant light shined on those streaks-I saw an incredible man who didn't only suffer because of my flaws, but one who chose to realize all of the things that were good and right.

Countless hours and tears I have spent over the years, worrying that I had wasted time and goodness in vain attempts at life and love.  All that I ever wanted was for my love to matter to someone.  When I think about all of the love that I have gifted, I can't help but wonder if any of it ever made a difference.  It is sometimes hard to imagine that it has, but just like with Frankie, when you watch it move forward and you see a person win and find love (even when you once thought it would be you), then you know that it really has, don't you?

For all of the love that has been given to me, and for which was received from me, I am thankful.  For all of the wisdom that I have acquired, gratefulness fills me. To all of the joy and the heartaches that brought me here, I am indebted. 

Wednesday, August 24, 2011


A couple of meditative moments from this morning:

  • The best that you can expect from a relationship with another, can never exceed the relationship which you have with yourself. The love, respect and appreciation which you impart to yourself, is then available to share with another.
  • Gratitude does not begin with Thank or end with You. It is an explosive attitude beyond occasion or giver. It is the love that fills the spaces between molecules, that holds beauty and light. When we are receptive to life we know to be thankful for all that we are, and everything that happens.
  • Love is not to be limited to that which loves us. There is never enough love that we can give. ESPECIALLY when it's hard. This is when it matters the most. To know and practice this is to be truly blessed.
And speaking of love and gratitude... today I was able to assume the downward dog position.  It didn't even hurt. I am tingling from head to toe right now, and grateful for the healing I have achieved which will allow me to be healthy and whole again... and better than ever before.  Every day brings new challenges and every day brings new insight.


Tuesday, August 23, 2011

What is...

the morning's light
peeking through the trees
kissing your face

the afternoon's breeze
sneaking through the heat
playing with your hair

the sound of the ocean
drowning your thoughts
and setting you free

trekking through forests
held safely in the hand of nature
releasing all fear and judgment

raising your hands to the heavens
and calling your angels, then
bowing down to thank the earth

touching your finger to the sweet
smooth skin of a lover
to feel the heartbeat of your god

the sound of giggling children
unabashed and loudly ringing
as you watch their bodies shake

flying through the night
amidst the stars
to touch the light

to be silent and lost
in your own breath
and your own heart's beating

to hear the whispers
of the mighty trees
and surrender to their fallen leaves

to touch the earth
to light the sky
to bow to quiet that I Am


Friday, August 19, 2011

the artist

Everything happens. How you let it change you, paints its reason.  There are no promises nor guarantees from life, only chances worth taking and victories worth claiming.  Sometimes the victories are not what you envisioned.  Sometimes they break, then re-make you. Sometimes they send you reeling through space with your hands in the air, squealing.  But make no mistake, things will keep happening.  Happen with them.  Offer no resistance.  Yield.  Learn.  Give thanks.  It's really pretty simple.  Everything is part of your canvas.  What you paint, is your art.


Thursday, August 18, 2011

Just a little game I like to play

Last night as the four of us finished dinner, the realization sunk in fast and deep, that these days would soon end.  In just three days, Frank will be setting off on his new life's adventure.  I could see it in all of our faces and I could certainly feel it in the lump welling in my throat.

Turning to J, I asked him what he loved best about Frankie.  The game began.  We circled the table three times, each of us telling what we loved about Frankie, then me, then Jake, then Kate.  There were no rules.  The respect for the person speaking was an unspoken mandate and it just seemed so natural for the person speaking to look into the eyes of the much loved recipient.

Have you ever heard really good news that you weren't expecting, making it seem as though it wasn't really happening, leaving that woozy feeling in your head?  I got dizzy several times, as the realization that I have truly amazing, deep thinking and feeling children, whose substance affords them an appreciation of truly great qualities.  Wow.  These children, the older two having lost two dads, and the youngest, whose life was turned around at a critical time... these three who sustained move after move, across this big country, who watched their mom hit the depths of despair, and who battled their own suicidal demons and worries of all sorts... these people who now have become responsible, driven, laughing, appreciative, caring, thoughtful souls...

they are love and happiness, they are my bliss.

"Everything happens. What you do with it, paints its reason." -Lala

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Ruins be gone


Wunjo – “Won-joe” – Literally: “Joy” – Esoteric: Hope, Harmony, Perfection
Key Concepts: joy, perfection, the art of correct wishing, correct application of the will, well-being, contentment, hope, expectation, relationship, family, bonding, trusted kinsfolk, shared ideals or aims, group harmony, symbols of shared identity, optimism, cooperative effort, like-mindedness, friendship
Psi: contentment, optimism, like-mindedness, wishful thinking, shared identity
Energy: harmony of like forces, effortless ease, fellowship, fulfillment, wishing, genuine friendship,
Mundane: parties, friendship, family, community

Joy, harmony, fellowship, accomplishment, prosperity; or stultification, sorrow, strife, alienation, warns of caution, blindness to danger, deception, betrayal.
Strengthens links and bonds
Invocation of fellowship and harmony.
Banishes alienation and other inharmonious impediments to trust
Creating joy through the use of true will
Realization of the link and multiplicity of relationship of all things
The art of correct wishing, ‘law of attraction’

Oh what a brilliant web we weave

A few weeks back the minister at the Unity Center challenged us to "release our inner spider."  She talked about how they just jump, always knowing that the result will be that everything will be okay, and that the end result will be a web.

The past few mornings as I practice walking around my backyard with unsure, slow, careful, baby steps, I have noticed so many spider's web strings that reach horizontally for an impossible distance.  How can such a small thing make it two feet away, and reach the desired height to begin their webs?  While drinking my morning coffee I watched a video about how spiders spin their webs.  It isn't just blind faith that they count on.  They must also, for that first strand, which is to become the footing of the web, ride the breeze.  This gift of nature carts their weightlessness across the expanse of the space which is to become their canvas.

Now this riding made me think of the Wu Wei which is the effortless force of living, which allows us to do without doing.  Life cannot be manipulated or directed, we must ride the winds that are set before us.  Of course once we are moved, it is up to us to spin the web, put in the work, and be driven with determination.  The end result is something wonderful for the whole wide world to see.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Wish I had something to say
hey, how was your day, or
what is going on with you?

Wish I had something worth hearing
telling you about the dreams I'm dreaming, or
what's going on with me

Wish someone would listen
things that make my heart beat
things that make me cry

Wish someone heard me crying
I see the children bleeding, or
the mother's empty arms

Wish someone cared about
oceans that are drying, or
the animals that are dying

Wish someone saw me
I reached my hand out gently
to the soul who truly needed

I wish someone would turn their heart
and feel the beating that
beats in time with every other

I wish someone would see
their ideas of divinity only choke
the bliss of others

I wish someone would feel
wonder of the light in the bliss
of each, his brothers

I wish I could say out
that you are your light
and all you ever need

I wish I could stop wondering
would make this world much sweeter,
because it already is

I wish I had something to
today, that would make the hatred, fear, and disillusion
fade away

I wish I had something to say

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

My foggy notion

Looking out over the hills this morning, all I could see was the cloudy white sea beneath my feet.  A mere feet below my footing was a thick fog that masked thousands of heartbeats, dreamers and doings which all slept peacefully in its pillowed softness.  Its thickness was so inviting, causing me to think about stepping off, and into it.  Is there any way that it could hold me?  Or would I just drown in its fluidity? Surely I could not fall, or if I did, I would not be harmed.  It was far too beautiful.

Dreaming out loud- when you have already woken- when you are already walking with your consciousness...
the fog was real.  The air was gray and heavy and before long, the distinct line that had been the sea's surface started to evaporate into an undefined thickness that permeated upward, as if it was smoke. I lost sight of the trees, except their fingertips reaching out to me.

How is it that water moves up?  Isn't fog water?  How do we avoid doing the ordinary?  Have the courage to rise above? Give up? Move on? Not worry? There was some kind of magic that held me above the sea, that allowed the sea to reach up toward me, and kindled the reaching of my beautiful trees.

The late morning sun has burned away the fog and seems to be dancing with the cool breeze that brings the whispers from the trees.  The birds who were silent in this morning's chill are now singing their songs of thrill. And I who wept this morning for what had drowned in that cloud, now feel grateful for these dreams I dream aloud.

How is it that anything can be so wonderful?  It is because no matter what, we choose wonder.  We choose it in the dark and the light, the day or the night, in dreams and in waking, in giving or taking.

The space between the water drops or the molecules of air that we breathe that are filled with whatever we choose.  That is where g~d is, that is what we are.

It is in the long shadows within the shade
it waits for me til I call its name

It is grimmest gray as it hugs yearning earth
dowsing parched, withered greens, quenching their thirst

It is explosive light trapped in a singular cloud
unabashedly longing to be bursting out

It is the dark within a dreary, cold night
that reaches for more, as it craves warmth and light

It is rising sun's splendor kissing ocean's still plane
til its rushing and swelling spawns joy's crashing wave

It is spilling your soul into hands cupped with care
that hold it so dear, just let go - and you're there

It is in the long shadows within the shade
I dance madly, gladly, calling its name


Sunday, August 7, 2011

I'm not sure if there is
anything more beautiful
than watching one person
reaching for another
with a big smile
or open arms
or is it a very warm heart...
that swallows their
wholeness, both
the flesh and the soul,
the good and
the not so good,
all with such
to be honored
by the warmth and
love of

Today I saw a beautiful person's love for another, do exactly that.  All I could think was that I want to be loved like that.  All love should be like that.  Don't ask me if the person getting the love was all that beautiful, because I was mesmerized by the lover.

Friday, August 5, 2011

The gimpy gull part deux

Hobbling down the beach today with my sexy brace and crutches, the water never felt so good on my feet (I wanted so badly to be playing in it) and the wind never felt so good as it did messing up my hair.  For hours I sat watching people running, jumping, playing, riding waves, laughing, smiling and being blissed.  Every one of them, in their happiness, was so damn beautiful.

The short hair, the long, tousled curly hair, the blonde and the black hair... the curvy, the skinny, the muscular and the fluffy ones... so damn beautiful

The finale was an older couple, both a bit hunched.  Both with skinny legs and pot bellies.  She carried an oxygen tank and he bore a lot of wrinkles.  When they looked away from the water and at each other I could not help but wonder which was more beautiful to them; the ocean or their other.

Just another Friday at Torrey Pines.

What you see is what you are... and what you are feels beautiful.  Gawd... I can't wait to be whole again.  I can't wait to be in love again.  I can't wait til I am squealing again, like a little child running down the beach... lost in her excitement.

It will come.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Summer lovin'

The only light that is left in this evening is that which glows in a reminiscence of the day, in each molecule of air.  It isn't real like a fire, but more of an ember which is just enough to mesmerize you with its fading magnificence.  The pine trees' limbs are so still tonight as there is no breeze to speak of.  The crickets seem almost distant since the air is so stagnant, disallowing their song to sway across it and dance with me. This feeling of a summer night just never gets old.

This nostalgic summer love returned me to a place when I was just five years old.  After dinner was done and we had laboriously scrubbed and polished the dishes, mopped the floor, and returned everything in the house to its proper place, we knew the day's real excitement would begin.  The calls of "Red Light, Green Light, 1,2,3...", "Mother may I take two giant umbrella, elephant steps?", and my very favorite, "Red rover, red rover, we call Laura over..." would already be underway in the street beneath our apartment.  The giddy laughter, the squeals of delights and the carnival sound of the ice cream truck nearing, were all a prelude to the nights later offerings- the cricket songs and the lightning bug splendors.

This, was what we spent our days dreaming about.  What could be better than this? was often interrupted by my angry mother scolding me for leaving fingerprints or breathing condensation, on her impeccably clean windows.  She preferred that I did not watch so closely, the children down on the street, having fun.  She preferred, I think, that I would just sit in my room and never notice those things that were not my options.

After weeks of pleading and begging, one day she finally let us go down to play with the others.  The game of choice that evening was Red Rover.  There was nothing that could have delighted me more.  It hadn't occurred to me when I had watched from above, that I wouldn't be good at that game.  But really, how can a five year old, thirty pound body break a chain of anything?  I waited and waited for my name to be called and then finally, it was!  It felt like the 4th of July and Christmas all rolled into one, with birthday sprinkles on top!  I summoned every ounce of faith and strength, with all of my will and determination as I went forging toward that defensive line.  I will never forget the feeling of freedom as I hurled my body against one of the biggest opponent's arms.  Okay, so at five my strategy wasn't so tight.  But that feeling was the bomb, and instead of letting me get hurt, he quickly scooped me up in his almost manly arms, and giggled with admiration for all of my effort.

Since I didn't break the chain, I was deemed part of a new team, the one that was so magnificent, it absorbed the raging giant spirit, little me.  I remembered being so proud to be there.  And then the magical music came closer and closer.  Turning to my mother, with begging eyes as the ice cream truck came to a stop in front of this massive cloud of children, she shook her head and then turned her eyes down.  My disappointment left me feeling as frozen and cold as a bomb pop.  As all of the children skipped away with their pockets full of chalk and jacks, I saw the ice cream man watching me.  He summoned me over to the truck once the last of the scatterers scooted, and he asked me what I wanted. Choking back some tears, I told him that I had no money, to which he reminded me, that was not what he asked.

There weren't a lot of nights that our mother would let us go play with the other children, but when we did, it was a magical night of miracles.  Nope, I don't think I'll ever tire of this love for summer nights. Although things haven't turned out quite the way I would have imagined, and certainly not the way that I strove for; I have front row seats to a magnificent choir of crickets, beneath my towering pines, in a galaxy of light that is so expansive that it sweeps me up and carries me away.  Nothing scrawny about that, huh?


This night is too sweet to end.  I am exhausted from a day of relapsed pain and worry.  The worry is about things that I KNOW will be fine, but I'm a mom and I can't help it.

But this dark, dark night
sharpens my sight and
every star that I see seems
to be twinkling for me
the crickets unified throng
with my heart, plays along
it's like love's my new toy
and everything's joy
as the stars bend to kiss
doused in heaven's bliss
I am floating in waves
with ne'er a slight crave
for anything more
or anything less
in this moment, this evening
I am truly blessed
til my eyelids grow tight
to bid a sweet night
but my heart won't let go
of this sweet little glow
for the stars in my eyes
and the feel of this high...

Oh, but it IS a goooood night! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Good night

Now as I lay me down to sleep
I pray in love, my soul does steep
and if I should die before I wake
I pray my death will not forsake
the dreams I have of love to give
and this love is reason enough to live
for if loving is the reason we came
then living is neither sorry nor shame
So now as I lay me down to sleep
I pray your love and mine will keep
And when we wake in either realm
may bliss be ours, and at our helms

If you love something, set it free... and then go dream about it! :)

Monday, August 1, 2011

Call it whatever you want... it just is

It was like that morning that I woke up and my door was open and the fog was creeping in.  I couldn't see my feet as I walked across the vast expanse of my room, to see if I should shut the door.  I don't even know if I was dreaming, I didn't know if it was even real... I'm still not sure if I should have closed that door, but I couldn't see my feet anymore, in that crazy dream.

How do you know what
is not love?
Is there a way to decipher
what isn't enough?
This silly thing that
wears my face
Is it nothing more than
a game or a race
It can’t be love if
I do not win
Or can it be?
 Just a sliver?
Could it have been love,
if what I'm thinkin'
is what you never gave me
cuz who would I be
loving then
if I love me, more than
I love you
Is it still love?
Maybe it was love,
if I remember
 the time you saved me
Was it love…
All those times that
I stood by
you would feel the wonder
you would hear my heart
Or was it something else I was
Just trying to prove
to myself?
did I fail to listen to yours?
I swear I tried,
but the overbearing of
your silence seems to
have deafened me
and I cannot feel
what it is
that you want
How can you learn of love,
this strange and unfamiliar
Thing we never knew to know?
Do I take it down, break it down,
whittle it
Into something shiny and new
Each time I fail it?
Do I strangle the
life out of it
as I hold it too closely
smothering it?
Is love ever going to be
something a little more to me,
than this madness of me, always
trying to save myself?
Why isn’t there a formula
To tell me what is wrong and
What is right?
Why isn’t there a rule
That makes love each
Person’s right?
Maybe if I just hang on, hoping
That someday if I hang on
real tight
that love will see me
that love will need me, or
Love will want me enough
not to hurt me... and just maybe
Love will choose to chase me
And Love will take me home.
Where I will lay
safely in its nest
of warm arms
all night long.

And then I will know
how beautiful we are,
and how delicious
love is.
I think that is how
it will feel.
But I don't know
if I am dreaming,
or if any of this is

It is what it is, nothing more, nothing less.  'Cause you get what you chase, when you're chasing your bliss.                    


Hope is the food that feeds me
when the cupboards all run bare
It warms my tummy with thoughts so yummy
and never skips a dare

When flirting with a thought so lovely
hope lingers longingly
It flails its passionate storm above me
as its dreams consume and woo me

May hope not be this dreamer's dream,
but a prelude to enliven
And ready I will always be
when hope's surprise will rise then

I'm getting a little tired of failing.