there’s a humming in my ears,

a ringing,

a sound that will not go away.

i cover my ears,

i bury my head,

… and yet, it is there.

there’s a singing i can hear,

a song,

a chorus just out of my reach.

i turn my head,

i strain to hear the words,

… and yet, it is there.

there is laughter all around,

a joy,

i see it in the distance,

reaching out my hand,

i can barely catch the vibrations,

… and yet, it is there.

there’s a life i can see,

a light,

i turn my face,

i raise my hands,

i can just feel the outline,

… and yet, it is there.

there is courage in this place,

movement,

my feet run faster,

i jump and my wings spread out,

… and yet, it is there.

it is there.

do you sleep?

what are you going to do?

dance around, twirling, swirling,

like the thoughts that won’t leave you alone.

you’re left gasping for air,

but none comes.

you’re breathing through a straw,

don’t you see?

this is that moment,

what are you going to do?

back away from the space between,

see what fills it up,

memories that never happened,

words that never touched your ears,

a warm hug that evaporated from a distant thought,

don’t you see?

this is that moment,

what are you going to do?

let go of that space,

the sand can’t hold you steady,

the water is pulling you away,

just give in and drop your head under,

the silence will comfort you,

don’t you see?

this is that moment,

what are you going to do?

look what you’re already made of,

sugar mixed in with some dirt,

the humanness of caring too much,

the surf spits you back out too,

in that space between,

don’t you see it?

this is that moment,

what are you going to do?

sink

swim

run

hide

smile

cry

laugh

scream

hurl yourself at the space between,

steady yourself on the changing surf,

move forwards,

always move forwards,

don’t you see it?

this is that moment,

what are you going to do?

.

You could begin to notice whenever you find yourself blaming others or justifying yourself. If you spent the rest of your life just noticing that and letting it be a way to uncover the silliness of the human condition—the tragic yet comic drama that we all continually buy into — you could develop a lot of wisdom and a lot of kindness as well as a great sense of humor.

—
Pema Chödrön

Quote found here, from Kind Over Matter

I go into your room first, always… in the morning.

That’s how I start the day.

It’s so cold out now and so dark, no sun for a while still.

I look at you, your body lying in a position of complete restfulness… I wonder about your dreams.

I can see you, glowing from the lights reflecting off the butterflies draped across your closet. Your cheeks are pink and full, your nose turned up just so, your lips pouty, your breath is deep and constant.

I can see the baby I used to hold while I did everything that needed to be done because that’s what you do when you have kids. I walked around with you so I could feel your breath and hear your heartbeat and we were one person…

I know a day will come when you read these poems and these stories and you’ll wonder about the mother that you’re looking at and the mother whose words are on the page in front of you and you’ll see that they’re the same and you’ll ask me what I was writing about because you’ll be older and you will see reflections of pain and angst and friendships and evolution and you’ll ask me, “what’s it all about?”

I’ll hesitate, because I’m not sure which parts to tell you and which parts to keep for myself because we should all keep a few things for ourselves so I look at you… a woman who can see into my soul because my soul is your soul and I tell you that I was learning to live.

Then you’ll smile because you understand that, all of it, all of the words scrambled on these pages are me learning to live my life out loud, learning to understand the evolution of us… the complicated beings, learning to know love.

But, right now, I see the lights from the butterflies reflecting across your cheeks and I bend down low to your bed and I hover just above your face so that I can breathe in your breath, our noses touch and your lips curl into a crooked smile. I touch my lips softly to your upturned nose and I whisper… barely making a sound, “mommy loves you”, and your eyes slowly open and you flop your arms around my neck and beg for one more minute and I say okay because I need one more minute too. One more minute to look at you… in the morning.

.

You’re taller than me now,

you stand there and laugh as your eyes are able to look down on me.

I step back and remind you that I’m still older, I’m still in charge.

We laugh.

You sit next to me on my bed and tell me to listen to that song, the one I don’t understand the words to, the one I know if I tell you I don’t understand the words to you’ll walk away and I’ll be counted as just another parent who doesn’t understand… so I listen, and I smile, and I sway to the rhythm and we share that moment.

I know these moments will become fewer, these times when you jump on my bed and want to share your music and your books and your YouTube videos that I don’t understand either and so for now I don’t dare move off this bed.

I look at you and I see the man you’ll be, he’s already shown himself in this teenage form that he now occupies. He stands up in class and assertively tells the teacher she’s being a bigot, he gets in between the big kid on the bus who’s picking on the little kid on the bus, he tells that girl she’s pretty and he likes her. The man you will become has already introduced himself to me.

I wonder how you got so brave, how you became so fierce and fearless in just 13 years. I think about how much you teach me, how I feel more fierce when you tell me your stories because I think a part of me must be in you… a part of me must be beating in your soul, making you fierce. I think I must have some of that in me too so I breathe in deep and I face whatever comes… because you showed me how.

I dread the day when you bring that girl home… the one who sees the man you are, my man. The one who climbs into your heart and nudges me out-of-the-way… just a bit. I’ll smile anyway — I’ll share that space… your heart can expand so wide and I’ll be comfortable there in that corner and I’ll continue to take up space, even when we’re far apart.

I know this because right now, when you come sit next to me on my bed and you tell me to listen to your new favorite song — I will. I’ll stay right there in that moment and I won’t care if the phone rings or if my email dings or if the perfect poem is forming in my head… I’ll stay next to you and I’ll sway to the rhythm and we’ll smile at each other without saying a word and I’ll breathe in the stillness of that moment… claiming my corner of your heart.

.

… because you’re going to dig your toes in one day,

You’re going to dig them in deep at the edge of the shore,

you’re going to feel the shift under your feet and you’re going to lose your balance and you’re going to steady yourself.

I know because I stood there too, I stood there and felt the waves try to pull me away as I steadied myself against the constant shifting of the sand,

… but this is not about me and where I stood, this is not about the waves that knocked me around. This is about the voice of that boy whispering, “I love you”, in the dark of the night and this is about the test that kept you up worrying and this is about your friend who stopped talking to you when she saw the way you looked at her boyfriend and this is about all the sleepless nights you have yet experienced — this is about you, my precious baby.

… because your phone will run out of battery one night,

the night you need it the most,

the night you pick it up to call me.

I’ll be waiting on the other end but my phone will never ring. I’ll look at the silence trickling off of it and I’ll wonder… I’ll get in my car because I’ll know where you are because we talk like that and you’ll see me driving up and you’ll scream at me in front of your friends but when you get in the car your screams will turn to tears of relief because I could hear you through the unused phone and then you’ll switch the radio in mid-cry as you gasp for more air to let it all out and The Maine will be on and we’ll start singing along and when we get home I’ll hear you skyping with your friends about how your “old” mom listens to The Maine and The Decemberists and all of your music and your friends will say you have a great mom and you’ll smile because you don’t see me in the hallway,

… but this isn’t about me. This isn’t about the unanswered calls I made and the tears of anger I cried. This is about you. This is about you balancing on that edge,

… because your friends will push you to think,

your friends will dare you to move and not all of them will want you to move in the right direction, not all of them will push you to see yourself the way they do. You will have to hear them yourself, my precious baby. You will have to make those choices yourself.

They will compel you to lie and laugh and run and skip and yell and curse and they will watch you stand on that edge… looking, deciding.

They will love you and they will hate you and they will leave you and they will return to you.

They will throw life at you and hope you’re ready because there are no do-over’s.

Your friends will be your world when you think I’m not around.

The waves will continue to pounce on you as you sink your toes in and you’ll reach your hand up to grasp hold of mine and you don’t see me… but I’m there. 

You’ll say, “everything is fine”, but I’ll know it’s not.

You’ll say, “leave me alone”, when I know you need me to sit.

You’ll scream at me and curse me and wish for me to leave…

But I’ll know.

I’ll know the sand is shifting so fast you’re struggling to stay above the waves.

But today, today my precious baby.

I hold you and you let me and I see the future because it’s already my past and I’ll beg you to hear me,

I’ll beg you to listen to me because I made those mistakes already and I walked that road already and I lost all my inhibitions around that bonfire and I danced naked in the middle of that house and I pulled my hand back the first time it was slapped and I stood where the waves break the hardest and I screamed to be heard… already.

I’ll yell for you to “keep digging your toes in”!

This time, you’ll listen. You’ll stop… and you’ll listen.

This time, you’ll say, “my mother told me about the shifting sand”. And you’ll look down at your phone and it’s fully charged but you don’t need to use it, you don’t need to call for me. And I’ll be looking at my phone too but it won’t ring.

And I’ll smile.

And I’ll stretch out my fingers as far as I can but I’ll never be able to grasp on…

A few more chapters, at least.

It’s been such a bumpy ride,

but bumpy can be fun,

if you’ve passed it and left it behind.

I was lost in my mind for such a long time,

living for tomorrow’s… out of reach.

Spiraling and spiraling further down the hole – stop!

It’s too much,

it’s done.

I’ll be open, like a book,

just read me, please.

See… there’s another story to tell.

Cracked but not broken,

it’s true,

it’s easier for the light to get in.

Lost in my mind,

but it’s time,

it’s time,

turn the page so a new chapter can begin.

Tears that can drown the world,

but a smile that lights up the dark,

lost in my mind,

no more.

So here’s where I am,

right here,

I am.

I am.

Turning the page for myself,

Letting the light seep through the cracks,

My heart listens, softly.

Run.

Laugh.

Dream.

Write.

Breathe.

Conjure the story,

that was lost in my mind,

A story about today…

the humming is too loud to pretend you don’t.

You feel it,

the vibrations are shaking you off your stance.

You see it,

its strength will crush you and never look back.

But now…

now it’s time to let go,

now it’s time to move away,

now it’s time to see how strong you really are.

Timing is everything in the letting go’s and the holding on’s,

so figure out which time this is…

time to dance,

time to cry,

time to yearn,

time to laugh,

time to move,

time to hide.

This is the time to let go of the parts that are keeping you from being that better person, those parts that are strapping you to the track, the parts that tell you standing in the corner is far safer than dancing by yourself in the middle of the floor, the parts that want you to whisper instead of screaming your truth… this is the time.

Move.

Dance.

Sing.

Cry when you need, it hurts.

Scream when you want, you’re angry.

Laugh when you should… we’ll all laugh with you.

Move away from the train.

Let its whistle fade.

This story isn’t finished.

I wake up, I breathe, I cover myself with words from a friend.

… and still, I live

I laugh when I shouldn’t, I sing way too loud, I go when I should be on pause.

… and still, I live

I listen for the silence, the beat fills my soul, the echoing around my heart.

… and still, I live

I dance in the rain, I laugh at the storm, I yell at the thunder coming near.

… and still, I live

I stare at the sun, I stand near the waves, I sink into the sand of my thoughts.

… and still, I live

I live.

I love.

I breathe.

I trust.

I wait.

I scream.

I cry.

I move.

I laugh.

I live.

… and still, I live

I jump from this cliff, a smile on my face, I’ve seen the bottom before.

… and still, I live

I soar in my dreams, my wings expand, evolution’s not stagnant here.

… and still, I live

I’m standing in this rain, I’m still thirsty anyway, let it puddle on this new-found path.

… and still, I live

I battle the waves, I balance on the shifting sand, I dig my toes in deep.

… and still, I live

I dare myself to move.

I love with an innocent heart.

I fall but I always get up.

… and still, I live.

… and still

the silence is deafening.

It burns my ears and rips out my heart… listen, it’s so quiet.

The sand on the bottom is sturdy, it barely moves under the weight of it all.

I can hear the movement of the water around me,

my arms float from my sides,

my hair sways slowly,

I barely notice I can’t breathe here.

Just a few more seconds, here alone, on the bottom.

I don’t want to bother anyone.

I just want to sit here, trying to learn to hear the silence, trying not to be scared of it, covering my ears when it becomes too loud.

I finally pay attention to my lungs as they scream for air, beg me to swim for the top and live.

But here, on the bottom, it can be so peaceful.

I give in to my body and push-off for the light above me.

Stopping to look back at the darkness,

pausing to see the lack of movement all around,

frightened by the silence that batters me every time…

It looks scary from here – the bottom.

Scary and silent and still.

My lungs once again guide me forward, reminding me to move, to stop looking back, to love the now and what can be’s.

When I breathe, it feels right.

Sometimes, I sit on the bottom.

Sometimes, I drown in the silence.

Sometimes, I swim for the surface.

Sometimes, I bring me back to life.

feeling my lungs lurch for air, feeling my mind scream for space, feeling my heart beg to be seen.

All at once.

Never in an even path but always forward, then not, then forward, then not.

The sign reads, “no train horn”.

So there I stand, listening to the tracks shake in the distance, listening to the bird call out from the tree… listening.

My eyes closed, my head back, my mind shaking off the sting once again.

Not today.

It’s not on my mind today.

I can hear it… in the distance, it will be here soon.

I sit down in the cool autumn grass, the last of the wild flowers stretching their way to the distant sun, but still…

my breath, it doesn’t come,

my lungs, they still ache,

my mind, it still spins,

my heart, it still begs.

The quiet interrupted by the shaking of the tracks, louder, with more force — “no train horn”, I read the sign again.

Steady.

Calm.

I rise.

I slowly take in air to my strained lungs — the shaking of the track makes it easier.

One step forward,

two steps back,

I close my eyes to see it all,

the rushing wind blowing my shirt back from my outstretched arms,

the shaking ground unbalances me as if I were walking on retreating sand,

And then it’s gone…

taking my thoughts with it,

carrying my pressure filled soul further down the tracks while my mind,

calm and still… a rhythmic humming from my core,

remains in tact.