No More

I used to stir up shit  to draw people in.

Or push them away.  Depending on the day.

I’m glad I dont’ do that anymore. 

Now I am happy and secure.

Thank you Ms. Oliver

She walked each day, notebook in hand

picking berries from the trees

Because when you are a poet

writing is as important

as the air you breathe.

Based on what she shared in the interview with Krista Tippet on the On Being podcast.

Over There Over Here

We send concrete to cover their soil.

Jesus to save their souls.

Shoes to bind their children’s feet.

We use words like humanitarian and aid

So we can get a better night’s sleep.

Some things haven’t changed.

Natural Living

Bears don’t have to work – day and night

Pay rent

or worry about the lights

being shut off

They simply get to sleep all winter long

Then wake, to birdsong – every spring

Super 8 Attendant

Super 8 Attendant,

Why would you scold me?

I’m 53.

The knife is sharp.

Would you tell a man

to keep his door shut?

I guarantee

you would not.

Why do you want to keep women

locked in a cage?

Perhaps that’s what you were taught.

Song in the Works

I can see him. There – every day with her.

He thinks I don’t know – acting like they’re invisible.

I’m taking myself out of the picture.

Had to give it a some time.

Let my emotions settle.

Take anger out of the equation.

Take myself away.

It’s not our coffee shop anymore.

Not our dance floor.

You tried to put me in the middle,

make it seem like my problem.

I see clearly now – it’s been yours all along.

I was in where I did not belong.

You blamed me.

Now I’ve removed myself from your lies.

From your life.

I am not the problem or your solution. Not your solution.

I bought into it until I backed out of it.

Took the ‘me’ away.

It is not my God damn problem.

2:00 am Poetry

The silence is deafening.

I wake hungry to shiny golden flowers and a tiny white flickering light.

Little Debbies call my name from the kitchen cabinet.

Should I make the solo journey down the long dark hallway?

This is the first time I’ve been afraid to leave my room,

2 months to the day after I moved in.

I should be sleeping instead of succumbing to early morning fears and nausea,

writing poetry by headlamp, sidestepping posted words about dying mothers and grieving daughters.

When I run out of lines, it’s time to turn the page.

It happens every time.

Nausea. I like that word.

The mind moves about in the early hours.

Silence is deafening.

My stomach is rumbling.

I’m not sure this is fun anymore.

Writing poetry by headlamp instead of candlelight.

No spellcheck just pen and paper.

I’ll turn the white noise on and ignore the white light.

It’s comforting to know, words don’t have to rhyme at 2:00 am.  

Have I Made It?

I’ve traveled many amazing roads.

Seen many a beautiful places.

Today I am feeling homesick, missing familiar faces.

I question what I have done, so distant from my sons.

A year and a half, a long time, living on the run.

There’s an aching in my heart. Tears welling in my eyes.

I remind myself again, I wanted an untethered life.

Now I feel disconnected, all alone in this big blue world.

An old life given permission, to become completely unfurled.

I set out on this journey, looking for my new home.

Over a thousand miles, there’s no more need to roam.

Life is an adventure, with magic and much love.

The earth beneath our feet, and a beautiful sky above.

It is a wonderful gift, I would not change a thing.

Even though it’s kinda lonely when you finally find your wings.

New Roommate

She cleares her throat throughout the night.

The last liked to smoke weed.

It’s not much fun living with strangers.

At the age of 53.

Wasted Time?

I feel excited to write sitting on my meditation cushion in front of the window in my studio.  Laptop on the little table that holds my friendly fern.  There was a lot I had on my agenda for this morning but haven’t done much of it.  This story seems to repeat itself.  I’m sure you’ve read it here before.

I miss the connection I used to have in the blog community.  I have fallen out of community.  Fallen a little out of sync with writing since moving to my house in July.  I love my house but it seems I lost something when I moved out of the bedroom I loved at the apartment, the bedroom I practically lived in.  I didn’t really need the rest of the apartment except the kitchen and bathroom.  I would always look out at the clouds, something I am doing now, in this space in my studio.  This may be that space that I have been needing.  I realized the other day how little I have been connecting with the sky lately.  I am isolating myself a bit today.  My student came at 8:30 for a Tai Chi lesson.  We started with some stretches, did the 24 form, then touched on the beginning, strum the lute, and repulse the monkey.  I wasn’t really sure what to focus on as she told me this would be our last lesson.  She has been my student for over a year now.  Maybe two.  I’m bad about keeping track.  She told me she had bad news and I thought one of her cats had died.  She look kind of sad, or worried, or concerned.  She sat silently for a moment.  Then she said this would be our last session.  She still had that sad look on her face.  I was nonplussed.  I think I was feeling it too.  At least for Tai Chi.  It felt like we had come to a natural place of transition.

Back to the sky.  It is blue. The sun came out.  Yay!!! And the white wispy cotton clouds are moving slowly.  The snow on the ground looks pretty.  I am hungry and happy that I gave myself permission to sit here and write.  Every time a car heads down my road I think it is pulling in the driveway due to the sound the tires make on the ice.  The city trucks have not been to every street yet.  I continue to try to figure out how to make a living.  Re-branding what I do – Mind/Body Health & Wellness Coach, my new title.  Some days I just need to be in my creative zone and not think about what I can do to help others, not think about teaching, but instead move about the house slowly, fixing my breakfast of sweet potato, broccoli, and pears.  Fixing my morning tea.  Little white tea pot, little white tray, and white Japanese-style cup.  I like the crisp simplicity of Japanese style and find myself drawn to all-white basic dishes.  All of my walls are painted white, except the one wall in the dining room that called out to me to paint it yellow.  Some days I just need to put everything aside and be the observer.  I think it is time now to put my writing aside to go observe nature before meeting with my marketing collaborator.  My heart is really not in it today but I made a commitment.

I have plans to read the book Quiet.  To better understand this introverted side and respect it.  To not judge myself for not being “productive” or  for not being “out there making a living.”  To not feel guilty for living a simple quiet life while so many are suffering.  When really I know that my own personal peace brings more peace to the greater, often chaotic, world.

Much love to you.  Please leave me a comment and let me know what brings you joy or any other thoughts you have.  I’d love to get to know you.