Maybe I should have stayed in the meditation longer.
My stomach rises quickly 
snapping against my snug dress pants
as I breathe breath of fire.
I pause and take a break.

I look for the EASE.
I try to be gentle.
Maybe today is not my day
And that is okay.

Can I forgive myself 
For not being “great,”
For losing my momentum,
For my perceived act of giving up?

I can breathe
And offer myself the grace
I long to hear.
That it is okay.

Today is as it’s meant to be.
The mundane, gray days
Make the inspired days
Sparkle with brightness.

Can I find my inner light here too?

We can’t do everything.
One person’s mold or tools
Are not a one-size-fit-all.
And even though I know this to be true,
I find myself at 45
Adjusting and rearranging
To make it work for me

That is enough.
I show up and
Create my days to
Conform to me
And not compare
or judge myself.
I let myself off the hook
And that is enough.



The world is in dire need
For positivity.
Not to sugarcoat reality
Or spiritually bypass the lessons
Inherent therein.

But we all need to feel uplifted
So we have the inner resources to
Create the change,
Create the world 
We want to live in,
To play an active role
And not that of the innocent bystander
Or victim of circumstance.

We matter
And we are enough
Exactly as we are.
If we show up for ourselves,
Prioritize our own wellbeing,
We lift each other up too.

To be a lotus when the world wants magnolias

Happiness and confidence 
Lies in true acceptance.
I come alive
and feel at peace,
No longer adhering to
Or following a
Well-worn, grooved path.
The easy way that is
already before me
with clear checkpoints and
crossing the list off as I go.

Is there room for happiness and joy
in a path that is not
authentically mine?

Can I be my true self,
Accepting the
Beautiful and the ugly?
The whole instead of just the
Presentable parts?

I embody confidence
And I don’t waver.
I won’t lose myself
in the struggle to
attain others’ approval
or acceptance.
It is like Dorothy in Oz.
The power to go home
(or accept myself)
was inside me all along.

This path is not always easy:
To be a lotus when the 
world says magnolias
are all the rage right now.

My joy and
My happiness
Cannot be swayed to placate
And follow the ever-changing
Whims of the day. 

Are obstacles just fears holding me back?

Obstacles can be my own worst fears,
An upward climb
Real or perceived.
My mind is already made up
Affirming that is the case
Before I can even take action.

My fears are the worst-case scenario
Already a done deal
And I’m closed off to options,
Another path or way,
Detoured from inspiration
And optimism.
The struggle feels real
And I’m stuck.

How do I make progress to overcome it?
Just going through the motions some days
My morning routine framework:
Getting out my yoga mat
Choosing a video and pressing play.
Leaving my journal open
With a pen at the ready.

Lacing up my sneakers to
Go outside for a walk.
Knowing that there’s always
One more thing to do
And being okay with what is.

Often it’s the first step that 
Creates the momentum.
My focus has shifted.
I’m more connected 
to my body and
not so stuck in the mind.

I can access that inspiration,
inner wisdom and confidence
that is always just under the surface.
If I look around me,
outside in nature
or just through the window,
I see the world is much bigger
than my fears.

The big blue spacious sky
has more than enough capacity
to contain and hold my fears
as well as my dreams.

I can temporarily 
give up the struggle
and trust that I, too, am held.
And that gives me strength
to carry on
with purpose and intention,
to feel the joy,
and appreciate the life lessons
as gifts to my future self.


Coffee break

My hands cupped around 
the warm coffee mug.
It is full of aroma
And I savor the flavor.

My fingers hook
gently yet firmly
on the handle as
I bring it in 
for a sip.
The warm liquid gets
swallowed down my throat
as I promptly go in 
for another taste.

If I get distracted
with conversation,
with technology,
with making future plans
or anything that takes me away
from the simple pleasure
of drinking fresh coffee,
the liquid starts to cool
and moment by moment,
its flavor gets diminished.

The joy and pleasure
is fleeting.
And it is my intention
and attention alone
that keeps me centered
in the here and now
and not in autopilot.

The warm flavor
recedes like the
rip current that calls
waves back into
the sea.

I can still feel the
faint warmth of my coffee mug
cupped gently in my hands.
I do not want to squander
one bit of this
temporary reprieve of
the hustle and bustle of what we call
modern life.


When I discover my true self revealed 
naked without a mask 
without culturally accepted clothing that clings to my curves 
extenuates my breasts and exposes my arms or legs, 
I am free from what binds me.

Although society will try to make me feel foolish 
embarrassed to even look upon my naked body in the mirror. 
The glass is never a true reflection but a juxtaposition. 
Whoever sees their true reflection except those reflected back in the eyes of another?

My lover’s desire 
My culture’s shame
How do I let it go 
to accept me as he does naked and true to himself?

Why do I have all these layers to shed before my true self has seen the light of day? 
Do I even recognize her? 
What’s in my mind’s eye and reflected back to me in the mirror are two very different things. 
Can I love the ideal me and the real me? 
Can I drop the story to be a certain image at all times regardless of what stage of life I happen to be in?

The man does not let outside influences interrupt his burning desire to meld into one. 
His lust and eyes tell me I’m something more than I see. 
Do I exist as he sees me naked and swaying to incite his excitement? 
Is that the true me? 
Or is it the one who breathes deep sighs 
as the clean sheets spread out neatly tucked around 
my body and mind relaxes and succumbs to the much-needed rest?

To recharge and feel comfort in one’s bed without interruption or distraction. 
To feel my bones and breath 
no one to interpret or criticize. 
It is mine and only mine to claim. 
In beauty, in rest, in wholeness fully alive. 
I can be here for just a moment.

A night under the moon. 
She and I are one and dancing with the stars 
not ashamed of who we are but embodying our true nature. 
When the black birds take flight in that early twilight, 
their beating wings do not make a mark across the darkened sky. 
Their beating hearts in unison as they soar across the moon 
only then illuminated before being swallowed back into the darkness.

The Blackberries

The blackberries
the quintessential fruit of summer.
On the brink of harvest
in the heat of morning sun.
They sit patiently
an offering.
Do I accept the invitation?

There is nothing like fresh fruit
the burst of flavor on my tongue.
The dark stained hands
from the fleshy bells.
On my chin and darkened my tongue.

The fruit is not forbidden
or only for the chosen few.
Only to those who happen to
look up at the sky
and notice
that there’s more than
meets the ordinary eye.

There is some effort.
I must confess.
Before you can savor the
reward of your labors.

It takes the body to the edge
just beyond reach.
With added vigor and strength,
I can reach what I desire.

It is now in my grasp
and my body relaxes and breathes.
Sighing as I place the dark bell into my mouth.
Yes, I’ll save some for later
and share the bounty.
But right now this is just for me.
This moment.
This effort.
This delicious reverie is mine to savor.
So I do.
Not caught up in agendas, past stories or future thinking.
Just the blackberries
The offering and
Me the willing recipient.

And I am filled with awe and gratitude
for the fresh delectable flesh.
Just mine.
All mine.

I touch the tree’s bark
and look up in the branches.
There is more than enough for everyone. For the birds, the insects, the squirrels and me.
All sharing a Thanksgiving feast.

The tree accepts all and turns away none. 
Is generous and sharing to all who visit her 
and enjoying her gift in her presence is the true gift.

The open door

When I walked through the open door
my mind was made up
before the scent of lilacs
and roses greeted me.

They derailed me
woke me out of my inner dialogue
of likes/dislikes, shoulds and have tos.

The inner chatter fell away
like drapes falling off a clothesline.
The gust made them take flight
and swim along the breeze.

Oh, how I wished to drop like the drapes
to embody and become one with it all.
To let go
and truly lose myself
for just a moment.

Naked, exposed
Yet safe to eat the papaya
with my bare hands.
The juice dripping down my arms.
Orange sweet streaks
and I laughed at the imperfection.

So raw, so real,
so present that the daisy and the rose,
the drapes and the breeze
all encompassed me
and I felt true peace.


I come from there

I come from there.
Far over the edge
where the sky meets the earth.
The trees line the horizon
With never ending evergreen.

I come from there.
The warm grass
with little crawling insects.
A green soft blanket underfoot.

I come from there.
Where salty air cools my skin
and fills my lungs with care.

I come from there.
Far over the edge
where the sea spreads out
to a flat horizon
whose edges knows no bounds.

I come from there
Where rain melds
and becomes my tears
tears of joy
tears of sorrow
nourishment and sustenance.
I feel and appreciate it all.

I come from there.
Where home greets me
at the door.
A warm embrace.
A quick burst of chatter about the day.
We are welcome.
We are loved.
We belong
And call this our forever home.

I come from there.
The lovers embrace.
The calm after the storm.
The seed of potential.
The green light of love.
The sparkling emerald of my heart.
I come from there.

I just know in my bones.
There was no lesson.
No guidebook or post
to mark my path.

The landscape was laid out before me. 
Welcomed me
with a warm embrace.
Sunshine on my face.
Sustenance to survive.
Laughter, joy and connection
to make it all worthwhile.
Mine all mine.
My story.
My experience.
My joy and sorrow.
I come from there.

The edge.
The sea.
The air.
The sky.
The grass.
The rain.
And I am welcomed
home to mother earth
greeted by a new day
and embraced by the moon each night

I come from there.
The loving world
and welcomed embrace


Remember the scent of the lilacs.
How the air just embodied their aroma
and drifted it into the windows
into my lungs.

Remember when they were teeny tiny buds.
How 5-year old Lilly marveled at their small size. 
Little purple bumps bursting from the green.

Remember the Easter lilies
and this was the first year
I got so low to the ground
I could actually smell them for the first time.

Remember the towering orange iris. 
Remember the hearty rosebush. 
Remember the mimosa tree that
once stood proud, colorful and fragrant. 
Now an empty shell.
Bare branches.
The weakened trunk sways with a gentle push.

Remember the dogwood’s white blossoms
and Lilly called the neighbor’s pink blossoms 
“flower snow” as they fell
and covered the ground in small piles of soft pink.

Remember the woodpecker, the cardinal, 
the new birds that decided to stop by for a visit.
Remember the bunny rabbit, like Old Faithful, 
arrives around dinner time 
looking for her evening meal as well.

Remember the hawk perched on top
of the playset as a squirrel huddled
and hid under the child’s chair
unmoving and the hawk ever patient.

Remember the blue jays that harassed 
and chased that hawk away
and the squirrel that timidly crawled 
commando style and lived another day.

Remember the sweet breeze from the ocean
even reaching here not so close to the shore
and how I marveled at the salty refreshing air.

Remember the first kiss.
The special rock overlooking the bay
and our life began together.
Remember that tender beginning love 
is still here under the surface.
A beloved memory but always here in my heart.