It's just under my pink paper skin.The deep, dark sadness that comes from a year of waiting. Holding. Staying. Everything a wash of blurred grey;the clearness of lines, gone. Facessunken from lack of color, eyes downcast, limbs treading water like dogs nearly swept under a current of chaos. I am small. Sinking into myself morewith... Continue Reading →
A name in me, common and silent.The slender blue frame of it spokenin the cold white air, provides a brief breath; a ventilation. My mouth is red hot.Polite as a cotton ball that’s yet to soak the blood at the back of my throat. A garden of buried seeds. Still. Waiting for the cold moon to phase into song and... Continue Reading →
The world stopped, and so did that section of my soul that has to throw itself into written words. The writing. The poems. The scribbles in the notebook. (Ok, a few words written at the screen in panic/devastation/frustration. So much so, I forgot I even wrote them. But that was it.) It all just froze... Continue Reading →
I can’t write it. The lockdown of life. But, that seems unimportant compared to the taking. Knees on necks. Shotguns to abdomens. Teargas and crispen orange blazes-- a clear quarantine that’s been lived in your street and communities and homes and where you work and nextdoor. Now, months into house arrest: Headaches. Tremors. Anxiety. Liplocked... Continue Reading →
The rusty blood crust that waits in the corners. It’s always been there. Now with a sidecar of brave. You're hunted on the street like an animal the same animal you came from. Different skin. There was hope once. Now it’s a never-ending shuffle of kaleidoscope pandemic fueled disaster plans and hand... Continue Reading →
2020 is a big deal for me. A new decade. A huge birthday in a few weeks. A lot of intentions and things to work on. I even started therapy a few months ahead of the new year to get focused and clear on how I wanted the next decade of my life to FEEL.... Continue Reading →
I can’t quantify a year. Or ten. I can’t look back and say ...this moment was best. Because every second that my feet find their way to the cold hardwood floor each morning is a second I want to breathe in, like molecules full of energy bursting the moment they hit my lungs with the... Continue Reading →
A little over a year ago I did a thing that truly changed me. I bought a ticket to the Brave Magic writing workshop in the Redwoods of Santa Cruz where I got to learn from two of my writing inspirations: Cheryl Strayed and Elizabeth Gilbert. Now that the Fall air is starting to settle... Continue Reading →
The purple bowl with the dopey-eyed lama flies through the air, landing face-down on the hardwood, oatmeal exploding from all sides like an eruption of sticky silt landing heavy in a circumference of at least twelve feet from the epicenter. The unmistakable sound shatters the tantrum from the kitchen table and paralyzes me in the... Continue Reading →
The stars spin around her room, like we are underwater, in a fishbowl in a house in a life of coming and going. The rain has started and the mornings are so dark, stars bleed into the hallway, on the floor of the kitchen where the cat paws at the rug. The stream of cosmos... Continue Reading →
I started journaling. (I hate this term because it reminds me of being told in Sunday School growing up that we should "journal". In practice, I really believe it to be an important tool, but I want to call it something else.) So, I'm going to call it chronicling. Because, I do what I want.... Continue Reading →
Make a wish over a flame. Bring home fresh herbs like basil and lavender. Spend some money on fresh cut flowers like jasmine (sensuality), rose (love), and gardenias (peace). Take the shortest night of the year to stay up all night and set intentions. These are all small rituals you can do to welcome the... Continue Reading →
