waiting for miracles.

inspired by the writings of Charles DeLint

I’m waiting for who I was
to catch up to who I’ll be,
and waiting for miracles
to arise from the liminal streets.

I’m waiting for miracles
to arise from the liminal streets,
and waiting for remembrance
to illuminate the spirit within me.

I’m waiting for remembrance
to illuminate the spirit within me,
and waiting for absurd good news
to remind how magical the world can be.

I’m waiting for absurd good news
to remind how magical the world can be,
and waiting for who I was
to catch up to who I’ll be.

I’m waiting for miracles
to arise from the liminal streets,
and beginning again to think

that the creation of miracles
is actually up to me.

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intention.

more lush

give me more

candle light curling tea steam

on rainy evenings

more depth

breathing liminal light shadows

where the dawn beckons

more vibrancy

green growing dying colorful things

in the sweet daylight

more spirit

laughing crying dancing incense moon

at sacred midnight

give me more

more

pause

more

center

more

creation

more

more

more

lush

in the

chaos

of

this one spiraling

fractal

beautiful terrible

life.


raven fly over the mountains.

This week, a friend let me borrow his ukulele. A song, based on a poem I wrote, has been drifting along in my head and I decided to attempt to put it to chords and a melody. The following video is my unedited, unpracticed rough draft of the song, flaws and all. I’m looking forward to playing with it more and polishing it up.

I’ve been wanting to learn how to play an instrument for many years, but insecurity always got in the way. This past year, I’ve learned so much about myself that I’m no longer willing to let insecurity stop me from doing the things my soul longs to do; finally picking up an instrument and writing songs is something that I’ve longed to do and never allowed myself.

That changes this year.

gratitude on a misty February morning.

I am grateful
for the cold February morning
that wakes me too early,
because the quickening light asks
for my breath and presence.

I am grateful
for the inhalation of the
gifts of the directions:
I call into myself
inspiration, creative action,
courage and determination,
grounding, community,
and connection,
guidance and nurturing.

I am grateful
for the exhalation of that
which I desire to let go of:
anxiety, fear, laziness, loneliness,
isolation.

I am grateful
for possibility.
For the vast choices
before me.
For the ability
to surrender to
the choice that will lead me
to my highest purpose.

I am grateful
for the flux and flow
of my breath.
For the
Ong Namo Guru Dev Namo
centering and calming
me, yet also
inciting peaceful action.

I am grateful
for the sun
dissipating
the mist outside.

It is calling to me.


re-Connection.

We Remember ourselves
through our connections,

like these windswept dunes in sunlight
joyful crashing waves
dripping rainbow moss sunset

and these people
made of dreams
stitched together with hope
illuminated by surrender.

I Remember myself
where boundaries dissolve.

Soak me in tenderness.
Dance me with love.
Together, we Remember ourselves.

shadow work.

The universe always guides us back to embracing the totality of ourselves. We attract whomever and whatever we need to mirror back the aspects of ourselves that we’ve forgotten.

Debbie Ford, The Dark Side of the Light Chasers

Maybe there is parts of myself I’ve forgotten,

left like breadcrumbs as I venture into the forests of life —

it’s a wilderness in jeopardy, I don’t know we’ll survive,

and I’m terrified

that nothing I do will ever make a difference, and I just

want my daughter to live, and I want to feel fully alive,

and remember what it’s like to be whole — 

to embody ever shadow and light of my soul; 

regardless of the state of the world, that’s my goal.

I’m hoping maybe in that state of remembrance,

I can make a difference

for the land, for the people, for my daughter,

and I know it starts with me, her mother …

I’m a mirror of the world, I am The Mother. 

The world’s healing starts with my healing,

and my healing starts with the land beneath my feet,

and learning again to sit with my feelings, 

to create poetry from what my heart is thinking,

to love my darkness without judgment like a child,

like my child, named for the moon,

who flows with her own spirit like a dancer flows with a tune.

I’ll never not forget. I’ll never not remember.

Screenshot 2018-10-23 at 8.07.21 PM

I forgot.

Who.

I was.

 

Forgot

the wind

even as it was

lifting my hair.

 

Forgot

the scent of

soil

even as it coated

the soles of my feet.

 

Forgot

the taste

of gratitude

even as

I bathed

in my

blessings.

 

Forgot

the ecstasy

of giving

even as

I went

through the motions.

 

I forgot.

 

But now

I remember.

 

I will forget again.

 

But I vow

to always.

Every crust of dawn

and every wholesome dusk.

Remember.