Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Friendship’ Category

So this is what it’s like.
The dark so thick no glimmer of light can get in.
The air so stale my lungs lurch to escape the fumes.
The sign reads, “no train horn”.
My head hurts.
My eyes are blurry.
My heart sings with the questions that only clarity can answer.
So… Many… Questions.
A million ways I’ve asked.
A million ways I’ve tried to be heard.
A million ways I’ve tried to explain a piece of the my soul to you as if there could ever be an explanation that would shed light on the darkened path that we can sometimes travel if we allow ourselves to float freely down the rabbit hole.

So this is what it’s like.
Figuring out who you are through someone else’s eyes.
Their vision is so cloudy they stumble and fall on my mistakes.
The sign reads, “you are here”.
Looking for myself.
My finger scanning the map.
My mind wanders from place to beautiful place.
So… Many… Places.
Not pulling you back to the abyss we’ve already visited.
Never wanting to pull you back.
Pulling you back would mean I’m still there too looking for some dysfunctional company because that’s the only kind of friend who would crawl into the rabbit hole with you, a beautifully fucked up friend.

So this is what it’s like.
The tunnel you’ve been crawling through suddenly opens to a rocky shore.
The rocks are so jagged but on the other side is the sweet ebb and flow of breath.
The sign reads, “always becoming”.
A calm exhale.
Toxic thoughts pushed out by the salty ocean air.
So… Many… Thoughts.
Letting go of all the small things.
Blocking them from ever returning.
The small things grow into big things and those big things can pull you under, so far under that your lungs scream at you because you’re breathing through a straw so you turn away from the rabbit hole and you grasp the hand of that friend and you walk away and dip your toes in the cool ocean not afraid to look back.

20120608-124644.jpg

Photo From Kind Over Matter

Read Full Post »

I don’t want to write any words
…when I’m on the downward side of this spiral, when I’m looking through a window that’s fogged over as if a cloud dropped and settled right there, right in my line of vision. I squint and I screw my face and I narrow my eyes and I try to wipe away the fog but it goes no where. It stays… blocking my view, obscuring my words. Coiling around the flow of courage, so tight. So tight it coils, trying to scare it off. So, I don’t want to write any words when this spiral is going down.

I don’t want to write any words
…that you’ll see and read and shake your head because you knew all along. You knew nothing good would ever come of that shitty first draft so you threw it away, there was nothing more to say.
But I crept in when you weren’t looking and I rummaged through your discarded waste and I pulled the words from the bottom of that barrel and I walked away. I walked away knowing I could revise this whole story, knowing I had far more control and far more ability to tell this story than any other person, even you. So, I don’t want to write any words that you’ll see.

I don’t want to write any words
… you’ll just read them and then you’ll talk about them and then a joke will be made and a smirk will be seen and an eyebrow will raise and high fives will be collected and I’ll find myself on the outside of the circle looking through you. But behind the look will be the thought. You’ll think about all the things that could be done from now on because we know we can’t ever go back and undo that tangled feeling that lodged itself in your gut every time I tried and — how — I — tried. No matter how many times I tell you about the better days all you’ll see is how clearly I look when I’m weak. So, I don’t want to write any words that you might read.

I don’t want to write any words
… but waiting is pointless. This feeling is hit and miss, maybe now maybe later. I’ll sit down and I’ll type the words and I’ll not want to but I will because in spite of all the shouldn’ts I’ve racked up, in spite of all the stupid button pressing, in spite of all the reasons I have to hide my face and tuck my tail and bury my body in the deepest cave… I’ll write these words because I can. I can. I can make you think and make you see and make you question every decision you made. I can. So, I don’t want to write any words when I should wait.

I don’t want to write any words
… but if I don’t they’ll just explode in the space of grayness that surrounds and knock me off my wobbly perch. Those words will keep pouring out of me in a steady flow of memories, moving so fast I can’t slow them down… no control. The mystery I keep trying to solve is me and these words are the only clues I have and each time I try to peek inside your world to see if any parts of me are there, you slap the curiosity so hard… so hard. So hard you slap but the curiosity just grows, it doesn’t stop. It doesn’t slow down. So, I don’t want to write any words that might explode in my face

— but they need me to…

So, I will.

Read Full Post »

I’m not a writer,
nor a poet,
nor a painter.
I’m not a lost soul,
nor a student,
nor a teacher.
I’m not a follower,
nor a leader,
nor a stand-in-liner.
I’m not searching for myself,
nor finding something else,
nor longing to belong.

I am trust,
and I am my truth,
and I am my story.
I am telling,
and I am singing,
and I am my song.

I am this moment.
I am these words,
I am this page.

I am more,
I am enough.

I am becoming.

Read Full Post »

dear _____,
stay.
stay.
… and stand fearlessly in the midst of it all.

there will be times that running away… far far away, will seem like the smartest thing to do. but know this, it’s not. running only puts the problem farther out of reach and harder to solve.
it’s not always going to be complicated either — learn to recognize the difference. learn to recognize the difference between someone else’s tragic bullshit and your beautifully complicated story.
stay.
stay.
… and stand fearlessly in the midst of it all.

when you’re young… too young to know such things, too young to worry about such things, too young to experience all of that — that complicated soul searching bullshit that you are too young to think about… stop. walk away. retain your childhood, the carefree skipping around in life that we are all entitled to — yes, entitled to.
stay.
stay.
… and stand fearlessly in the midst of it all.

when that summer seems to go on forever, lie on the ground and stare up at the stars and know the complete feeling of being so small and alone and yet you will never feel so connected to the world. let the shining of the stars and the chirping of the tree frogs and the swooping of the bats paralyze you with the knowledge that you are small… in the very best possible way, you are small.
stay.
stay.
… and stand fearlessly in the midst of it all.

stick around after closing time, that’s when all the best stories will reveal themselves but don’t become a story someone else writes. don’t waste time looking for a perfect apple… they all have bruises and those bruises have something to say — listen. listen to their story. don’t stand still, don’t ever stand still, keep moving forward.
and remember, forward won’t always be the right direction or the best direction or the safest… but you don’t need the safest.
stay.
stay.
… and stand fearlessly in the midst of it all.

when you get to the bottom of your rope, don’t tie a knot in it — let go. yes, let go and soar and be curious about what’s at the bottom. no more directionless, no more drifting, no more worrying, no more wishing — just let go.
never be made useless.
so don’t run away… reach out, reach out as far as you can and keep reaching — the hand you’ve been waiting for will be there.

dear _____,
stay.
stay.
… and stand fearlessly in the midst of it all.

20120709-130631.jpg

Read Full Post »

something made you cry and you screamed so loud,
when your tears streamed down and you fell on your knees,
when those last few words came hurling out,
when I stood my ground instead of turning to leave,
… that wasn’t me.

if you see someone facing the oncoming storm,
… that’ll be me.
if you see some toes wiggling deep in the sand,
… that’ll be me.
when the wings of self love fly high through the air,
… that’ll be me.

you got so mad with 10,000 rhymes,
did the words on the page embarrass you,
did someone ask too often for a minute of time,
did she steal your wish because she had so few,
… that wasn’t me.

on a star someone sits with all the wishes come true,
… that’ll be me.
when your page fills with words so easily,
… that’ll be me.
on the day the fog lifts and a hand is reaching for you,
… that’ll be me.

if I said “see me” more often than I should,
if I broke you down beyond repair,
if I tried too hard because I thought I could,
if that poem I wrote was as transparent as air,
… that wasn’t me.

that person still standing when the storm dies down,
… that will be me.
… that will be me.

20120413-122116.jpg

Read Full Post »

This is the air I dare to breathe….

The air I dare to breathe is sweet.
It’s calming, it’s blue….
like the water just past the shore,
leading out to the openness of the ocean.
You can see through it,
the colorful fish darting around.
It’s warm.
It’s inviting me to stay.

The air I dare to breathe is alive.
It’s movement, it’s green….
like the bush that grows out of control,
covering my step with all its wildness.
I don’t dare cut it to shape,
it’s messy.
It’s beautiful.
It tells me to sit down.

The air I dare to breathe is burning.
It’s love, it’s red….
like the quick glance from a stranger,
scanning my body for an invitation.
Looking away so our eyes never meet,
the blush creeping up my neck.
It’s remembering.
It reminds me to never forget.

The air I dare to breathe is filling.
It’s steady, it’s yellow….
like the sturdy hand of a friend,
grasping me so I know I’m not alone.
Letting go at just the right time,
my mind knows what my heart can’t see.
It’s learning.
It keeps hope in a safe place.

The air I dare to breathe is looking.
It’s searching, it’s gray….
like the crevasse in the mountain we climb,
giving me a place to rest.
Revealing my next stronghold,
unleashing the hero in me.
It’s living.
It has possibilities with each step forward.

This is the air I dare to breathe….

Read Full Post »

I sit and look out,

hearing the ocean rolling in front of me…

head back,

eyes closed,

… and I’m gone.

Counting on my daydreams to carry me away,

and they do, quickly…

I can taste the salt on my lips,

the uncomfortableness of the sand scratching my skin,

the breeze — the breeze is welcoming across my burning skin.

The sun is high in the sky but my daydreams don’t care,

they grab hold of my thoughts… filling my head with a world of forgotten promises.

Our truths are so varied but we end up at the same place,

a ship bringing us close to shore,

safely.

If I could fly… I’d spring out of this dream and jump in the waves,

I’d relax as the water churns around me,

I’d forget to remember that the world can be messy.

I’d forget to remember that bruising is a lesson I needed to learn.

I’d forget to remember my way back isn’t through you…

and it’s not here.

Not on these pages.

Not in empty words that bring me to my knees.

Not in a half truth.

Then I know…

the way back is in this wave,

carrying me steadily along,

building and building until it’s out of control,

a tidal wave spilling onto a beach because it got in its way.

The pain surges through my mind as I crash without warning,

left to sort it all out,

separate it into neat organized piles of chaos.

Here…

in the debris left behind,

is my beautiful star.

Here…

in the debris,

is my necessary truth.

Read Full Post »

i should write a poem when i’m pissed off,

the words will spit fire from the page,

the images i conjure will illustrate my rage,

but writing a poem when i’m pissed off makes me smile…

and then i’m not pissed off anymore.

i should write a poem about my heart being battered and bruised,

the things i say will tear at your soul,

i’ll lay out all my pieces and you’ll try to console,

but writing a poem about my bruised heart makes the pain go away…

and then i don’t feel so bruised anymore.

i should write a poem when i know i have truth on my side,

the more words i write, the more suspicious it sounds,

even i will start to question the truth that’s lying around…

but writing a poem with truth on my side makes me question,

and then truth isn’t on my side anymore.

i should write a poem when my mind can’t settle down,

the thoughts will be jumbled and completely confused,

the words will leave you more than bemused,

but when i write a poem when my mind is jumbled…

i don’t question the clarity anymore.

i should write a poem when i’m happy and content,

the sappy words would be oh so sweet,

the sticky taste is just a deceit,

but writing a poem when i’m happy and content leaves me bored…

and when i’m bored i’m not happy anymore.

i should write a poem about the cruelty of silence,

i should write a poem about the helplessness of being misunderstood,

i should write a poem about the bravery of just being.

i should write a poem about…

 searching, finding, losing, struggling, holding on and letting go…

 falling down, getting up, being stuck and daring yourself to move…

 being depressed, being relieved, learning to lose and learning to love…

i should write a poem about how we are always always becoming, always…

i think i’ll write a poem…

i got no other plans.

Read Full Post »

this is that moment,

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

Read Full Post »

Hi kids…

I’ll be playing in someone else’s sand box this week!

Follow me, as today I take on rejection and Alexis Stewart — 10/30/11

Craving Rejection

Today, a poem — 11/01/11

Today, I am small…

Today, some fiction — 11/03/11

Wrap You In My Arms 

 

 

 

 

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »