Life is meant to be enjoyed And so are our things. Saving them with the tags still on Or in a box Diminishes their value and ours. I used to think something was too nice Or too fancy to actually use. But that’s a fallacy. To get the most juice, to feel the most alive Is to embody the present and Use, wear, or consume our things Before it expires, Before fashion trends change, Before my interests evolve Or I forget I have it. So today I light my beautiful new moon Crystal-infused candle Because carpe diem.
In the third floor apartment Overlooking the street and cars below With my notebook and pencil in hand, I nestled in to meet the muse And be inspired. I had no space of my own. Just a single-subject notebook, Wire bound and lined, With the words, “Oceanography” or “Psychology 2” in large penned letters On the pastel front cover. It was my private, personal space To journal, to explore my feelings, Writing poetry As a teenager with no money And nowhere to go. So I traveled in my mind. I devoured books by VC Andrews And Stephen King. The stories and characters swirled around in my head. I often dreamed of a tropical paradise, An escape, a place of solitude and independence. I adorned my wall with a huge poster of an idyllic palm tree. That poster became my view. There is no breeze to be felt From the window When you’re on a top bunk In a small room I shared With my younger sister. I took those bored, hot summers And transformed them the best I could. Looking back, I was laying the framework on what it means to be inspired. And now I’m never bored.
Where does inspiration come from? It can be a fleeting idea, A word or phrase that lights me up And I want to become the explorer of my own inner terrain. [The Sacred] It happens in solitude And when I’m out in nature. I feel most connected to The wisdom of my heart. Beauty always surrounds me, Even in the mundane and hard times. I just have to be willing And open to see it. When I connect to my heart and breath, I feel I am taking an active role in my life. I’m not getting carried away by the rushing tide of emotions and circumstance. In that moment, the magic happens. I no longer have to struggle. I can literally go with the flow. Again, I return to the explorer within, Who recognizes the difficulty in truly letting go With surrender and vulnerability. There is peace and ultimate freedom To find creative solutions, To take a beat before I react, And to connect to my inner wisdom. How does inspiration and the sacred come to you?
The body is a vessel More than tracks of blood, Veins, arteries, nerves, Bone on tendon, Synovial and cartilage. It is a vessel that Forever is learning. It is not stagnant ever. It holds my breath And takes my breath away. It mobilizes me to action, To thought, to dream, to create. The body is a vessel for love. I can receive and freely give it. I can hold another’s torso And their secrets. I can laugh and cry. I can release and let go. I can hold and embody. Mine can twist and take shape Intertwine with my lover. I can stretch and realize My edges are further than I thought. I can smile and accept This body that is mine.
It is an action not inaction to surrender. I allow that support And I am held, Comforted and loved. I breathe And I receive. I am grounded. The ground will always Meet me where I am, Catch me when I fall, And support me always.
With fresh eyes I begin again in meditation. Sounds and thoughts pass by. Just like the breath. I am the silent witness. Waves of awareness Swirl around me. Can I follow a sound From inception to conclusion? What stories and assumptions do I attach to them? Can I bring peaceful presence To my everyday life, To each encounter, To each thought? I begin again With fresh eyes And an open heart.
The Moon holds all secrets. Yours and mine. It is a divine circumstance, Not some random chance. The Moon may appear busy With its changing phases And varied dance across the sky. It is no secret. It is a gift from above. The dance of give and receive. It is limitless and accessible to all. The capacity to hold is unchanging. The Moon listens to my heart. It is with gratitude that I join And dance with the stars.
Deciduous trees start with a delicate beauty And end in vibrant hues again. The tree’s true colors are exposed. There is no holding back, conforming to standards or blending in. To spend the rest of your days in that beautiful authentic expression is something to behold and cherish. Unapologetic without concern of backlash. I celebrate the new blooms. They remind me of a fresh start And the excitement of something new. Fragile like the robin’s nest Sturdy and well made But too low to the ground. Not enough protection to promote healthy offspring. Life is all around us. The birds are learning too. They must feel loss. The robins lost their shelter, their home base. Is it too late to try again? Is nature a cruel teacher? Not so if it prevents future loss of life. We don’t punish the birds. It’s the nature of things. And death too is a part of that cycle Whether we like it or not. And we are a part of nature. It can never be removed No matter how urban and modern our surroundings. The pink blossoms are in their full glory And I am delighted.
Step out of the darkness and into the light. I am here with you. Fear can make you feel small. And like a seed without enough space to grow, Your potential cannot fully bloom. Step out of the darkness and into the light. Your authentic voice and story need to be told. Liberate yourself from the binds that hold you back. I am here with you. Do not look outside yourself for validation of Who you were meant to be. It is safe to shine your light. Give yourself permission to bloom. It was always yours for the taking. Step out of the darkness and into the light.
If happiness had a clear, unambiguous course of travel, Would you follow it to the T? Would you not get distracted by what lies before you On the path as you travel to get there? Would you go by car? Perhaps that pace is too fast And one sideways glance away, you might miss The next mark on the road. I’d choose to go by foot. I imagine that happiness is like A hiking trail with blue square postmarks. Some are new and bright blue. They are easy to decipher. Along the more difficult terrain, The marks may be dull and faded. Can we trust that we are being led to happiness? What means happiness to me May not be happiness to you. So we must have a clear definition of what is happiness Before we embark on this journey. Or perhaps it is the course of travel itself That illuminates the path to joy. Is happiness the end point?