Under a Danish grey sky on the other side of the world,I watched the lives I've walked sit and rest with me in the quiet I carved.Realized I've lived morethan any feline has on reserve -reached an age where decadeshave burrowed and bloomed.Love stories begun and ended, children born and grown,graduate degrees and career changes... Continue Reading →
She has lived on my skin for 15 years. A promise of return; the darkness always temporary. I never thought of myself as an eagle. I don't consider love to be god,Because, I don't believe in god. I believe in love more than the migration of birds. More than the science of flock. My talons... Continue Reading →
I stayed in bed all morning.Sun through the large window,bathing the cat and my calves in January sunbursts, rays of yellow. The coffee spilled; I didn't mind. I am unbothered. I absorb only light, only breath. The yous around me vanishuntil I say "you are the you right now".I orchestrate the time for entering; exiting.I... Continue Reading →
Focused on the fucking heart that has been jumping out of my throat. That skin I've kept trying to change. I am quiet. Which doesn't mean silent,but rather finally able to feel the scream. How sometimes it felt like choking on coagulated clots. Even in moments I loved. Ones I felt full of sound. The... Continue Reading →
To bud life at the root, you must cut off the dead. Slice through the heart of what is no longer growing. Trap the energy in the fingerlings that reach up and out to portals that are waiting for new, green sprouts. Blooms buried so deep the only way to coax them out is a... Continue Reading →
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 →
I wrote this two weeks ago: Not very often in my life do I feel so overwhelmed or stretched thin that I feel close to breaking. In fact, my breaking point is so incredibly hard to get to, I sometimes wonder if I have one. I also sometimes wonder that if my breaking point were... Continue Reading →
This past weekend, I attended a small, intimate writing workshop on mindfulness and creative writing. I heard about it only the day before it happened and when I read the description, I felt pulled to go immediately. Now, if you know me––you'll understand that I calendar the shit out of my life. I am two... Continue Reading →
Reflection: noun the act of reflecting, as in casting back a light or heat, mirroring, or giving back or showing an image; the state of being reflected in this way. an image; representation; counterpart. a fixing of the thoughts on something; careful consideration When I think of raising my glass in a toast to the... Continue Reading →
Recently, I have been going through my old writing -- old websites, old books, old photo albums, doing research of my life like I have a test coming up. This is all of course, for my book and it has been incredibly therapeutic and all-consuming. Today, I found a post that I wrote on June... Continue Reading →
The only thing that has been saving my sanity over the past two weeks is working through my notes from Brave Magic. Because, what on earth is happening in our country right now? What world am I living in? Oh yeah, one run by powerful, old white men. Just double checking. Here we go.... One... Continue Reading →
It has been a week since I set off on my Brave Magic weekend with Cheryl Strayed and Elizabeth Gilbert. For a week, I have been working hard to articulate what happened. Working through my notes to create some kind of real and true testimony of my experience. Working on saying [[out loud]] how I... Continue Reading →
In The Way 