a vow of silence

We ran naked and unafraid
before we ever knew not to
We drank waters from the still lake
where we could clearly see a beautiful face
Inhaling ether from the heaven
we danced wildly and unashamed
We reached for love among many
and we we never thought to be afraid
How did we forsake the life within us?
What madman gave sin its wretched name?
How do we get back to living raw, this life
-to kiss and touch god's beautiful face?

Do you ever touch the earth or breathe the light?

I cannot hear your words no more

ear's pressed against the earthen floor

Your thoughts no longer wear my face

my depth has won that measly race

my skin now pricked, releases the throng
of the toxic rights and righteous wrongs
snorting the light and huffing on love
of these my heart now, can't get enough

the bloom!

sliver of a chance

What is it about

color and subtle contrast

that ripen possibility

to see the hope

not the hurt

that takes you to the light

in spite of the dark

that is only moments away

In a sliver of a chance

we are once again 

alive

the last cookie or a sweet lullabye...

Judgement Day

The thing about opinions is that they set limits. Once you have defined what someone is, what their intentions are or how they should be; you steal from them their most basic freedom. Very few people act with the intention of doing wrong. We all choose to do the things that we view as necessary or right. Some of simply define "right" a bit differently than our brother.

Lighten up, friend... you know... if that's what you want. :)

A new day

The new moon is a perfect opportunity to ask for a new dream. In the moments before sleep a few nights ago, the darkness found me asking for just this- a direction to start, to honor this gift of life which I've been squandering. Last night while waiting in my car for someone, I looked up and the deep autumnal hues of purples and burgundy that colored the transition between day and night, were sliced with a long, low sliver of silvered moon.

Now that the darkness is gone, my request before sleep last night was a peaceful, dreamy slumber. Nine hours later I awoke with an abundance of energy and excitement for a day that I know will be wonderful. Just 2 days shy of five months since my accident, the only thing I could think to do was to visit my beloved hills. I knew I wouldn't be able to climb them, but I could certainly circle the magnificence while clinging to the access road.

My car pulled into its familiar spot as if it knew the way. Turning around and looking at my welcoming tree, and then glancing up my favorite hill, my eyes progressed toward the sky which was a bluish purple with bright, white clouds. It was more of a psychedelic dream than an atmosphere. This beauty lit something up inside of me that caused me to abandon my safety strategy, and I rationed that I could go in just a little bit and stick to an easy path. I wasn't sure how I was going to navigate the storm-ravaged river bed with its steep drops, but I didn't care. I figured I'd try and if all else failed, I could always turn back.

I think there were angels singing when I got there, as I saw that someone had flattened out the access, turning them to hills instead of drops. God, I just knew I could do it if I was careful. And I did. As I turned the corner on the path and saw my familiar rocks and lush, gnarled trees- once again, I felt I'd been kissed by g~d.

Not that I had never really appreciated it before, but when we lose something that we love- we learn to love it more. Wanting gives us a clear vision of what it is that we seek- things which we are shielded from in bounty. Strolling slowly across the earth, ignoring my pain, my stomach was jumping and rolling as I succumbed to the flood of relief, for finding this love again.  There was a sadness in me when I realized that I never before knew this wealth.

The tears' tracks on my face scribed my new prayer to life, that I never love or appreciate, any less, this love I now know. May it always cut quickly to my soul, and not be fettered by disappointment or pain. To this day I still believe I brought this injury on myself when I asked to be more understanding of slow people. It never occurred to me that it was my slow heart that needed the fixing.

Fifteen minutes was about all I could take as the swelling of my knee started to overtake the other swells. So I wrapped it up and packed Pooey in the car, then leaned against it, staring at the tree, the hill, the path- they were never more beautiful. After a few minutes Pooey barked as my frozen gaze gave way to the realization of how cold I was. Suddenly the yearning to be home, wrapped in a blanket, sipping hot coffee became my newest passion. CRAP- I forgot to buy coffee on the way home yesterday. I fretted about this for less than a minute before I realized that it's just going to taste even better, tomorrow.

Light hearted

   Dream drops falling
between rays of splintered light
where there is no room for fear-
only love and warmth and kindness
   Darkness steps aside
as there is no room for madness
midst the vibrations of the
angels' wings, their ethereal touch that dances
   Time cannot be counted
when the rhythmic coursing beats
in to the the dance of timeless age
frenzied by the dreams we choose to heed
   Lost in time and lost in this space
holding firm in this enticing place
heart beating quickly as if in a race
to save my soul, my life, my face

from losing once again while
dream drops are falling all around me
gently tapping out their quiet song
in the secret key of dreams that move me


Sometimes these things come in senseless pieces- a lot like life, huh? Then one day, it flips a switch and suddenly looks beautiful in its new light.

The new moon

She told me to ask for a new dream....

Prancing down a darkened trail

lights have all gone out

The sun has settled in to rest as

creeping critters greet the night

Whispers from the hidden eyes

which never see the light

follow me to another world

where they can be so bright

 *I cannot see the moon tonight

It hides its face from me

But in its place I see the stars

The ones you picked for me

Inside the dark and frigid night

I watch with wonderment

As stars propelled by magic's spell

Race quickly across the heavens

 *I cannot see the moon tonight

It hides its light from me

But in its place within the dark

Shines splendor in a new me

The night guard watches, waiting

As the new moon hides its face

The owl cuts loose and rises

Giving dark's stars quite the chase

The cold but silent chill I feel

Brings shivers from within

But oh the stars that light the sky

Make quite the raucous din

*I cannot feel the moon tonight

It hides its pull from me

But in its place the bright stars whisper

Their quiet secrets to me

Animal Instinct

Last night a friend's very sweet kitty came to visit when I was resting, sprawled out on the floor. Sweet purrs and unquestioned love were her offerings. She moved in close, laying flush up against me, getting what she wanted and needed. Today when I was thinking about her and her keeper I wondered why I even question my own needs and wants. How is it that we, as the intelligent species, put so many restrictions on our own natural yearnings and their acquisitions? Why is it so hard for me to just move in close and get my purr on and warm in its glow?

This old dog is hungry for some new tricks...

Carnivorous

Prowling the hills
solitary we hunt
for sustenance,
we scour the earth

Finding the kill
that pertinent fill
but rooting for pain
we’re just hungry again

Rip it to shreds
mouth dripping with blood
Coming up for air
we have nothing to fear

Can you survive the stream
Of the blood that flows
Can you rip it to shreds
Will you break bread with me

Will you wear the warm pelt
As we worship the sun
And peacefully slumber
Once the feasting is done

Can the warmth of our flesh
thaw the raw of our souls
Can the depth of our truths
quench us, hungry carnivores

As they lay in the dirt
our hearts beating aloud
They poke and they laugh,
The finger pointing crowd

Can you swim up the stream
Of the blood that flows
Can you rip it to shreds
Won't you break bread with me

the gold standard

Does gold ask of flame,
"Why, fire, do you burn me?"
No, it simply beams
in its lustrous alchemy
a new state
of beauty and elegance
as it shines also,
without question

The right to strife

Guilty! I, like countless other parents, have the awful habit of trying to make things easier for my children. Forsaking necessities for myself, in exchange for the purchase of cool clothes or dance tickets, by gosh... I want my kids to be happy.

There's a little Honda sitting in front of my house that doesn't seem to want to move. Should I fix it? Get it up and running so one son can take it back to school with him? A little wave of nausea overtook me as I pictured him trying to find his way to the BART, getting on the wrong line, getting off at the wrong stop, and never able to find his way home again.

When I lived in Binghamton, working til all hours of the night trying to pay down my medical bills which I amassed due to some misfortune and a lack of insurance- I found my way home every night, on a borrowed bicycle, in the dark. Tired and sometimes lonely and scared, I did it. When I think back now, about how difficult that might have seemed to anyone, I giggle a little. What I really harvested in those days was not the trial of the financial or physical difficulties, but the independence and confidence that became the weathered but durable soles of this journey.

My list of stupid mistakes, greedy horrors and broken hearts are the hill of debris on which I now stand, able to see things more easily and clearly. I have no right to deprive my children of the same. They will move forward, earning their own rights to wisdom and conviction. You can't buy wisdom and love for anyone- but you can certainly love them and hold them as they find their own rights to an authentic life.

October something, some year in the past and the future, for this present

Stepping out of that skin

They squeezed you in

Breaking free from the box

You’ve been rotting in

Take a deep breath

Once you have escaped

This thing you now own

On your own, THIS is faith

Thank you for all things beautiful!

Hoping

What we're looking for always seems to find us when we are not really looking.  We have all heard this and I know that I have wanted to believe it, but lately I haven't been believing in much of anything other than just letting things be.  It's been about a year since I have felt the kind of joy I have since abandoned. Maybe it's the time of year that stirred up my emotions and desire again. So I had been keeping a watchful eye out, hoping to find that thrill again.  Around every corner and as I opened each door, I held my breath hoping to find it. But more times than not I have reminded myself that the yearning and burning desire for a magnificent dream needs to take a back seat to the simplicity of being grateful for all of the little things... the things that make every day wonderful.

My overpowering craving for grapes guided my car into the Stater Bros parking lot this morning.  My hunger being a bit more voracious this morning than usual, I also grabbed some of my favorite yogurt before heading down the power aisle toward the far end of the store, not sure what it was that I was looking for. You know how your eyes just catch a glance from a stranger and your insides get all crazy and dizzy and you see what you have always known, all of your life and with all of your soul? My heart started beating faster, making me a little bit dizzier and I wasn't sure anymore if I was really seeing what I thought I was.

Taking a few slow, but steady steps as I shook with excitement, I got a little closer as I became more sure of what I was seeing. This, the hope I thought I had lost, was staring me right back in the face, making my tummy flip. No words were needed as I reached out to touch, to be sure- and I grasped the beautiful neck of the firm body and I swooned.  Pumpkin Spice coffee creamer! And to think that I never thought I'd see it again. This little reminder to never give up hope came at a time most surely needed. Life's little gifts...

Taking a chance

Funny how just one moment, one little giggle or a smile
changes what you thought a day might be
Stranger still the way a sadness steals your light
and leaves you someone a little bit different
Watching the sun set into a bank of clouds on the horizon
or looking down to watch the waves tickle your toes
We choose the moments that make the differences
We see what we want to see, feel what we care to know
Somehow I'm not certain that everything matters so much
as what we get from those moments
It's in the choice, not the chance
Chance is just a lucky streak or a big friggin sinkhole
Why does everything have to matter?

Yes

Maybe

I should have...

I would have

If I could have

This time

If I don't

Just do it

I'll die

shadowing truth

Against the setting sun my shadow walks beside me
Darkness is that blurry sight which cannot be denied

Walk alone, I cannot, as my shadow is my companion
We hold it all, we hold it close- for it and I are two but one

Today I told my shadow of the glory of the wanting,
the joy of all the sorrow and the bliss for all the trying

Her darkness did not wane nor did it call surrender
her weightless darkness stretched itself and grew a little thinner

the lyrical miracle

Dreaming death within

My restless infant sleep

Wearing scars beneath

My skin, so cracked, so deep

I learned to cry 

before I ever knew how

For with me came the 

rocking of the salty waters' bounty

The home I knew decorated

With a paddle on the wall

But in the house of friends,

Love and laughter filled the halls

Fear and quiet rage

The only noises in my head

I could not hear the quiet calls

Of joy for I was deafened

I’ve got one more song to write and

Another 10 to sell

I was wondering if you

Could help me sell one to myself?

If we listen to the rhythm

Then we may not hear the words

Can you turn it up, turn it up

For I am sounding quite absurd

The song that I was born to sing
and the dance I never learned to swing
Shame's filter sheltered me from these-
the dreams I never dared to dream

The love you gave to me, so sweet

Changed everything I thought was real

When you whispered secrets I never knew

My heart opened, wanting to be well

But staying here was not your thing

They made you go away

You never told me how to swallow this

You were gone and life was never the same

And we had one more song to write and

Another 6 to sell

Can you show me how to clear the shelves

And find another tale to tell?

The cords are always changing

My fingers just can’t keep it up

Maybe if you listen you can

Tell me what is not enough

With one more song to write

And another two to sell

Can we listen with our hearts

Cause my eyes have now gone deaf

It’s that fear within my head

That drowns the sweetest sights

Can you tell me that you’re buying so

I can sell it to myself?

In the holding of the leaking pen
on crumpled paper flow the lyrics
I was wondering if you could
sing to me the jingle of your miracle

When love and light became your harmony
And you walked unscathed, through fiery heat
Oh, play for me the chord that cracked the seed
For your heat alone, so beautiful, will surely set me free

I have
Just one
more song

To write…

I'm having a mid-life cry, sis

Those awakening moments
when I'm suddenly caught
between there and here

The knife that cuts and
slices, sharpened by my new
depth of awareness

Why did I hang on so long
why did I let go too soon?
Why did I do those things to you?
 

All those times I could have chosen
more love instead of holding it
so far away from you,,, from myself

So many years are gone and
I can't help but cry for the things
that I should have done in my life

Instead of always just surviving
forsaking life and living in
favor of dying

And cry, yes I will, for what I lost
but take a deep breath amidst the sobs
as I brace for what is left

Give thanks that the
letting of this diseased blood
does not bleed me dry

But tears, they will drain
this wealth for a time, with no end
so hold me close, hold me tight,
be with me sweet friend

Words Of Wisdom

"When we realize that this moment, this situation, this day, in this life, is just a rehearsal for the next thing coming our way- we can relax, do our best and enjoy what is." -me

Why is it that people give credence to things in quotes, more than the sweet words whispered in their own silences?  There is that beautiful center point within a quiet moment when wonder is revealed. There are no quotes around these silent epiphanies. Or are there?

Crayons

So today I wasn't so good at finding pieces of joy... the hurt welled up... the fear overpowered me... and the defeat just drained me. It didn't help that I drove down a street that reminded me of someone I can't resist remembering. I couldn't help but think and wonder...

My fight wages on and this warrior just keeps going. Not always with a smile, but always with at least a little bit of hope. Closing the garage door behind me I realized how hungry I was. Threw the boots into the closet and headed back to the kitchen. I started a pot of water to make some good old mac n cheese. While the water warmed I poured a glass of wine. Drinking alone never bothers me but tonight I couldn't bear the loneliness so I headed out to my patio and WHOA! Clouds so thick with distinctions that lined the sky about them, hanging so low, and framing insets of the rosiest, luminous hues. I wish my camera had done it some justice. Looks like someone got a new box of crayons today!  But isn't that just what every day is? A new box of crayons.

Thank you!

What is reality?

Seems to me it might be as fleeting as the moment it owned. We believe what we want to, for as long as it serves us. But when we're done, is it gone? If you blow out a candle, where did the light go? It doesn't really matter, does it, because it's gone.

We can resurrect it any time we choose, by remembering.

Last night I asked the angels

to show my love to me

to bring me to his splendor

awakened in my dream
 

Perched on the edge of a thick white cloud

I spread my wings and calling out

you heard my song and then you came

and we danced across the night
 

When morning's glory gently woke me

from my soft, green grassy nest

she dared not take from me,

You, my greatest awakening
 

Walking the path the whispered

pleas wafted to me from the trees

The words, unclear, I could not hear

yet I knew they spoke of you, my dear
 

So I ran through the streets

of this big, scary city

searching for you

in every nook and cranny
 

Scanning the faces of

each one in the masses

Holding my breath til

each soul by me, passed
 

And I wait tired in the light

on the corner in the night

Oh angels, hear my prayer

One more time- please take me there

the drought

You know when you want to cry, but you can't? It goes on for days and days, building up pressure, waiting to explode. But you won't because if you do, you might never stop. Sometimes I feel that if I succumb to my weak feelings I will somehow insult the universal abundance of gifts which I know I am fortunate to know. This is what keeps me from melting... until I pass a sweet little kitten in the road, laying on its back, struggling to move a forearm, in some delirious effort to escape the road... which is now to be its grave. For this I can cry.

Watching a little boy beg for a toy from his parents- just a cheap little truck.  The parents who are half-filling their carts with the biggest box of inexpensive laundry detergent they can manage, and some Kmart sales rack apparel. There is nothing I want more than to go pick out a REALLY nice truck and give it to him in the parking lot. But I don't... I just slink into my great car, close my eyes and fight back the tears. Half way to my big, beautiful house I realize that a few drops have quietly rolled down my face, reminding me that hurt was there.

How is it that I have learned to be thankful for the abundance of things such as the flight patterns of hummingbirds or the sparkling light filtered between leaves, or the the glowing halo of colorful light that hugs the hills' tops once the sun has set? How is it that I have learned to be thankful for what has come and what has left, yet feel so blue when I am alone in the magnificence of a luminous morning?

Someone told me today that when we embrace abundance we have nothing left to want. I'm afraid that if I hug it any tighter I'll squeeze the life right out of it. You know, when I finally get to take a walk in my hills I think we will be like lovers who have not touched, but for our yearnings, over time too long to measure. Why is it that I always crave the magick I cannot see? When is what I have going to be enough for me?

Is there something wrong with wanting? I'll bet that little kitten wanted to get up and run right out of that road, or away from the car which must have struck it. I'll bet the little boy dreams of trucks and cars and maybe someday he'll have a real one of his own. Me? Well sometimes I would just like to cry and feel sorry for myself, instead of transferring it to someone else. I don't know if this avoidance is an effort to work on my gratitude and positivity, or just an underlying desire to cling to my misery.

It's time to wake up.

I AM Laura

Thirty-two days into my hiatus of hoping...

Thirty-four days since my heart has hurt. As with anything that I choose to do (and I can do anything I choose), it's just a matter of wanting to. So I granted myself six months in which to finish healing my body and regaining my strength, unleashing the bold energy I've been harboring inside of my hurts and disappointments.

This serenity is like a blanket of fog- cool and refreshing, engulfing me in an anonymity that blocks all entities that might tether me. Free to be alone in my own wonder. Free from all expectations which are merely limitations of bliss.

Waking in the morning to see nothing beyond the faint silhouettes of my soaring pines, I no longer pine for that which would stifle me. Now I join the morning's magnificence as I breathe in all of this quenching water, the conductor of energy so electric... the connection between me and the bliss, the wonder and the source.

There is nothing left but to be grateful for the love I have been given. Not bitter for what I don't have, but blessing that which will always be with me. I send love and light to that which has made me more beautiful.

As the sun rises in the sky the light between the water's molecules brightens and my energy glistens as the glow intensifies in both my eye, my spirit and my body. But not even the sun can burn through this thickness so quickly. This is the moment where I wait for nothing and its wonder carries me to a world which I have not known- and I am finally home.

I am
the wonder in the light
I am
the song of tapping rain
I am
the joy within a giggle
I am
the ocean's crashing fury
and the moon's mighty sway

I am
the night's bright twinkling
I am
the morning's rising way
I am
the tears which quench the wanting
I am
the air we breathe
and the life in the seed

I am
a tree's bough reaching
I am
a bold heart beating
I am
the magick you are seeking
I am
the cry in the night and
the warmth of the light

I am

Seeing red

Long day
worked hard
did some good
loved some people
laughed
cleared some clutter
opened my heart again
listened to the quiet
adored the setting sun
felt the moon rise
the days filled with
the simple things
are the ones most
wondrous,
the ones that feel
so good
when I lay
my head down

It's no secret... it's life

Tired of this dull little lull that makes me want to go bye.  Got some red nails, all 20 of them and a new red dress that was oh so pretty. Maybe I'm done feeling this way. Maybe I'm not. I guess I'll see again tomorrow. Time to rest...

wake up you sleepy bear

wake up the morning’s here

the light shines through

that cracked old door

and sprays across the dusty floor

wake up Rumplestiltskin

wake up- the day is new

the coffee’s on

the eggs are done

the table waits for you

wake up, sleepy head

wake up before it's night

the sun is warm

outside we’ll run

wake up and feel the light

9.10.11, the winnable war

We speak many languages 
but we are all of this earth
We call our god by different names
yet we all seek goodness
We construct our own rules
for we all love our children
Sleeping in mansions or huddled against buildings
we all touch this earth
We drink from the same sky
and splash in the same oceans
for we all thirst
We must all survive madness
We must all feed our families
We all crave laughter and love 
We all crave kindness and understanding
No matter where we are
or what we call it
or for whom we love
Goodness weaves us ONE
blanket of love
ONE body of caring
ONE thought of hope
to win this war


If in this hour of remembrance if we focus on the injustice, the anger and the pain, not only are we antagonizing old wounds; we would also be murdering the victims again.  If instead, we let go of the ick and celebrate what we have learned, then we honor the lost with our gratitude.

So many people choose to blame and harbor hate against Muslims for what was done on 9/11. Islam is a religion which encourages morality, an adoration of nature and peaceful living. Sin is defined as forgetfulness- because we are all good, but sometimes forget to be.  Hating Muslims for the despicable terror of 9/11 is as silly as hating Catholicism for the degeneration of a few pedophiles, or for despising patriotism for the lunacy of Timothy McVeigh, or hating all Romans for the slaying of Christians. The aberrant ones are not representative of their associations. They are the forgetful who cannot see the good.

Many have gone before us and many more will follow.  The majority of people whether Christian, Muslim, Jewish, atheist or otherwise are good.  They all have their reasons for following a set belief path that encourages living a life of integrity.  We all call it something different, but it all boils down to goodness, regardless of its naming.  The important things are to continue in our goodness, in spite of the wrongs.  To learn from whatever life teaches us, and to move forward in a spirit of caring for our brothers.

We speak many languages but we are all of this earth. We call our god by different names, yet we all seek goodness. We construct our own rules, yet we all love our children. Some of us live in mansions and some huddle against buildings in the cold night- yet we all touch this earth. We must all survive madness, feed our families, and we all enjoy laughter.  We are all in this together, no matter what we call it.

So this day has come, the day that we knew would hurt. Ten years ago we were raped of our dignity and our security. We thought we were the untouchable giants who could have it all. But we lost so much and its cost was beyond measure. If anger remains our only paycheck, then we still lay in debt to the force which harmed us. Quietly we must lay down our venomous conceptions to become the most worthy opponents of our adversaries, of ourselves- when we embrace the wonder of what is and what is in each other. Then, and only then, can we win this war.

A quickening

I caught a butterfly today and held it in my hand
flutters of its wings warned me so still, to stand
Cupping it within my hands, I could barely steal a peek
and could not see its wonder, its color, its freedom

How can a butterfly be beautiful if it is not free?
Can love mean something if you choose not to give to me?
Can something be what it longs to be
if I dare to impose on it that which is me?

Can beauty live enslaved in want?
or color beam even when choked by dark?
Does the earth still spin if I hold my breath?
Or does beauty entice us in spite of ourselves?

gift

Roaming the earth with
scorched and blistered feet
Face burned by the sun
hands filled with dirt
filled with air

We had so much to learn

and when comes the night
with its dark, soothing cool
we will feast on the stars
hearts filled with the light
filled with love

We have so much to live

090511

I don't know how to do this.

Where is the madness, the screeching, the wind?

I don't know how to do this.

The only thing sweeter than a hilltop view is watching the dry hills drink the rain.

This I can do.

More beautiful

Dreaded daylight's dimming
quiets remnants of the light within
when dark descends and steals from me
what I thought would be my dream

No words to bless this emptiness
no touch to feel this dwindling bliss
the dream I stoked throughout this day
is closing its sleepy eyes to rest

The wonder of  this fire within
consuming what's been sorely missed
has burned a deeper dream so sweet
which whispering winds have promised me
 
But oh- another night and one more day
have now come to fruitless pass
but tomorrow brings another hope
for the brighter light I yearn to know as

The mares cross night time's burning hills
their thunderous pace in silhouettes
against the flames that are scorching these
fiery dreams whose heat can free the seed

of sweeter dreams, more beautiful

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

Puzzled

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...

Firecrackers

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. 

08.24.11

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.

BLISS!

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

...bliss

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.

Namaste,
Lala

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

Ruins be gone

Joy


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

Divinations: Joy, harmony, fellowship, accomplishment, prosperity; or stultification, sorrow, strife, alienation, warns of caution, blindness to danger, deception, betrayal.
Governs:
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.

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

I wish I had something to say

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

 

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
gladness
to be honored
by the warmth and
love of
another

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.

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.

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!

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! :)

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

Hoping
you would feel the wonder

Hoping
you would hear my heart

Or was it something else I was

Just trying to prove
to myself?
OH SHIT...
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
real.

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

Gray

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

-ME

I'm getting a little tired of failing.

Zeus

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.

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

Faith

"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.

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.

Whew...

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!

Feargiveness

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.

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
leaves

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

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

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

perhaps

I should be drinking

Red wine

Through which
they cannot,

My envy,

see?

Dictionordinary

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?

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!