Connection

Outside the Door

The soft earth awakens.
Fresh dewdrops cling
To the blades of grass,
To my picnic table,
To the windows of my car.

Outside the Door
The sun has begun
Its ascent above the skyline.
And its rays begin
To splay upon the horizon.

In the beginning,
Where did man lie down his head each night?
Did the morning dew greet him
Each sunrise as he awoke?
Did he sleep under the stars,
In the open air,
Or did he seek shelter most nights?

The earth is soft and lush.
Outside the Door
The heat of the summer
Has already begun to take ahold.

The breeze is my reprieve.
The birds are my companion.
As we share a moment
In the early dawn
Before the sunrays get too bright
And I, too, must take shelter
From the blazing sun.
Connection

Can I accept and allow change into my heart?

When I resist with all my might,
My energy and attention
Can get swept away.
I no longer feel grounded.
I have lost my connection
To mindfulness,
To this present moment.

And it feels like
A contradiction
To my intention
To go with the flow.
Maybe it’s because
I am aware that the
Friction of change
Is so strongly felt.

Of course, I may get
Lost in the struggle,
In the will to be right,
And to brush up against
What I’d like things to be
Versus the reality.

It is a mighty struggle
And one I encounter almost daily.
I am faced with a choice.
Do I paddle upstream
Against the current
And all which is out of my control?

Do I want to expend all that
Wasted energy and effort
At the cost of missing
The present moment,
The only moment that really counts?

This is the flow that I intend to embody.
I won’t always get it right.
I’ll forget and fall into the habit of struggle.
That is the beauty of life.
We are presented with countless opportunities
To wake up, to pause.
And where there is awareness,
Acceptance is possible.
writing

My Writing Manifesto

The blank page is my canvas.
Each day is a new opportunity
To show up for myself
And be inspired
As my words flow onto the page.

It is creativity manifested
As intangible thoughts and ideas
Are alchemized
Into tangible words I can see
Taking shape onto the page
From my own hand.
To be shared or not
The choice is always mine.
Connection

Have Patience

Have Patience
I told myself
Over and over again.
I knew the advice was sound
But I was so impatient!

And lonely.  I was tired
And fed up with being alone,
of not finding a connection
of not finding “The One.”

Have Patience
As the old advice goes.
I thought I could rush the process
Get to the finish line
Without doing the necessary work.

What I didn’t know was
It was all divine timing.
Even though in the messy middle,
I couldn’t find the lifeline.
My desires seemed just out of reach.
I needed a helping hand, a boost.

It was a hard narrow space
And I felt stuck.
The vault to my heart
was locked and well-guarded.
I didn’t want to be vulnerable,
to be open to being hurt again.

What I now know is
Where there is vulnerability,
There is an opening,
A softening
to receive love.
There I will find strength.

If I can’t be vulnerable
With the one I love,
The relationship is not authentic.
The foundation is fragile and loose.

Once I found I could be vulnerable
With another, I found safety 
In letting down my guard
And it was strength, not a weakness.
That it was true connection,
True intimacy.
And I finally found my loving partner.
Connection

WAITING

I’ve been writing morning pages 
for seven months now
with no missed days.
The page was always there 
in my notebook
Just patiently waiting 
until I was ready to commit.

Imagine all the things 
that lie dormant and in wait.
Waiting for motion,
Waiting for something bigger,
Waiting for the right time,
Forgotten,
Re-shelved,
Undone,
And redone.
Just waiting.

And I always held the key
Even if I forgot
Or temporarily lost it.

Once found, I used the door
To the page
And found myself waiting.
To be great,
To heal,
To creatively express
And be an authentic version of myself.

And that is why I show up
Again and again
For myself
Because I’m the only one who can.


Connection

What am I a “Yes” for now?

{In January, I wrote the blog, “What are you a Yes for?”  Here is my half-year reflection.}

I am a YES for daily movement.
I am a YES for connection and creativity.
I am a YES for making my dream of becoming a Kundalini yoga teacher a reality.
I am a YES for being in the driver seat of my own life.


What are you a YES for?
Connection

The Sisters Play

The sisters play.
Lives unlived and unknown
But real to their imaginations.

We are at sea
Where mermaids race and swim
Greeted by friendly sea creatures.
Oh, what adventures they had!

Of course, there’s conflict.
Problems present themselves.
Solutions and ideas form.

The sisters play on.
The imagination lives
In each one of us.

It is known yet intangible.
The stories and ideas
Weave in and out.

Like the waves in the sea.
We marvel at their strength,
Shape and fierce force.

The sisters play.

We are goddesses of the sea.
We can shape that creative force
And wield the plot and characters.

A story unfolding,
Real and imagined.
Creative Fiction

The honeybee

The honeybee sets out each morning,
A sole worker with a craving
For the sweet nectar.
The hive can only thrive
When the collective work together.

Her day’s task is at hand
And she visits her first flower.
A rose.
Drunk on its sweet nectar,
She is seduced.
And the sweet rose is the only flower
She will visit on this day’s journey.

The rose’s branches entwine 
and climb up a pole.
Up and up.
The honeybee has found her bounty,
Her fill.

And whether conscious or drunk,
She has made her way back home
At the workday’s end.

Who knows the mystery of what 
Tomorrow’s flower may be.
Perhaps a dandelion, 
An azalea.

Tonight she is where she belongs.
Connection

BRICK BY BRICK

Brick by brick
Layer by layer
Hands wet and moist
Covered in clay and mud.

Layer upon layer
Up and up
I built a fortress.

It provided safety
And shelter from the elements.
It was cozy and a haven.

Mine all mine.
Built by my own sweat,
Tears, and physical strength.

Made by my own hand
It was shapened and formed,
Embellished and flawed.

Little did I realize,
As I was building a fortress
All around me,
I forgot to build a door.

Along with protection from the elements,
I was locked in,
Unable to express my truth
To another or to myself.

When the walls finally were torn down,
By time or willpower,
I set myself free.

It was safe to feel my feelings.
All my feelings.

Behind the clay and mud
I uncovered a temple.
A brightly lit hidden treasure.

Put there by my labor
And long forgotten.

A jewel that needed to be excavated
Once the walls came down.

Connection

ALL THE BLOOMS

All the blooms have paid their visit.
They fulfilled their roles to completion.
Now green leaves of every hue remain on the branches.

All the trees marinate and meld into just a tree
Where the blooms easily identified the species.

Now they are a forest of trees
Indistinguishable to the undiscerning eye.
One lone red maple stands out from the rest.

Does the species of tree matter to the nesting bird
Tending to their fragile, precious young?

Maybe.
Sturdy, tall, with camouflaged branches
They call home.

I call it nature’s greenery.