I live my life through the words I write
There are days
like today
I need the weather
to grant me permission
to slow down.
Fluffy clumps of frozen water
fall in a parade
beyond the window pane.
Hypnotizing.
Fighting my body
to move, to work,
to achieve productivity.
Fighting against will.
Sit, rest,
watch the snow fall.
This is needed, too.
Back home
to reality
of the daily routine
mundane in comparison
to protected time in a bubble, for sport.
Back to the dishes piled high in the sink,
dust settled on the furniture,
the pen and paper on the kitchen counter
picked up every now and then
to note another to-do
not to be forgotten.
Back to the commitment
of, every day,
working to better myself,
carving away more marble from the sculpture
of the life I want to live,
bringing it into the light.
If you asked me where the last weeks have gone
it would take me a while
to remember, and answer.
Flying in the spaces
between the lines on the to-do list
to get there faster.
Planning for the future
making the most of time,
to stay in the present moment
will put me behind.
Today, the rush slows down
I can enjoy stillness for moments more
though it feels foreign to me now.
To stay on the surface is easy.
To find the still waters beneath;
beautifully difficult.
The cycle begins again.
The pain, the blood, manifests
throughout and outside my body.
I will watch my body swell with pulsing blood
and inflamed tissues.
I will hear her cry out in pain
as she sheds what no longer serves her.
I will feel her energy deplete
as she asks for stillness, for rest, for love.
I will hold her, nurture her, and love her
through the pain of release
as many times as she needs.
I grew up believing
in the black-and-white of right-and-wrong,
the this-or-that,
the all-or-nothing.
As I chase validation
I see my fear of living outside the box
as deviation.
I see now,
it becomes clear,
the opportunity to see continuums
rather than boxes.
What is right, or what is wrong,
depends on your perspective.
What is black, or what is white,
depends upon the shade of your glasses.
I want to live
in a space so vast I cannot see the walls,
with colors and sounds and open boxes
scattered, their contents spilling,
where everything is right, is accepted,
in any given moment.
On the centerpiece, on the table
they have sat, unopened,
untouched save for the dust cloth.
Unwilling to admit my longing,
I fill my head with stories
of how the timing must be better,
not now,
to make the experience worthwhile.
The present moment, for months,
unworthy.
Unworthy
of experiencing the beauty,
the tranquility,
the magic
of moments like these.
Re-writing stories
by candlelight.
Hovering over the page
filled with worry
of wasting my time
of producing nothing of value
finally, after all this time, realizing
that I don’t have to offer
what I believed.
I can no longer be afraid
of making shitty art.
Art is art.
Holding back, holding out,
for the perfect words to come
has led to weeks of nothingness.
Making the less-than-desirable, the difficult,
the imperfect,
moves me forward.
I don’t need to ask for permission
to try something new,
to experiment,
to try surfing a new wave
despite never stepping on a surfboard.
What am I here for in this life
if not to change, to flow,
to find myself over and over again
as she evolves from minute to minute.
I will follow her everywhere.
Give my mind a bread crumb
immediately
it wants the entire loaf.
What next thing should we do?
How will each detail look?
What will the 15th step be?
One flake of snow
growing into a snowman
in less than a minute.
For goodness sake, just slow down.
Stay here, in this moment,
without worrying and planning for a future
that might not happen.
Appreciate the here and now
without wanting to become bigger.
One bread crumb,
one snowflake,
one at a time.
I lost her
I wonder where she went
why she felt the need to get away.
I have been separated from this page
it feels like an eternity
do I remember how to do this?
Extending compassion
into a space hollow and dark
offers light,
light to guide me back.
Dawning Words 