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Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Intention (number one)

I will make time for breaks today.
I will stare out the window and attend to plants and flowers.
I will go to yoga
I will do a run at the gym, or run in the desert, or just move my body in lots of creative ways.

I will take care of me before the needs of others.
So it is.


Sunday, August 24, 2014

The Amazon tarot

I drew three tarot cards before bed last night.
Asked them what I should do about us.
I got Ixtara, Kali, and Kwan Yin.
Ixtara told me that I was a healer and that I should
continue my practice
something was healed in me or someone else
by my immediate past situation.

Well, yes.

Kali said that "it's time to move on."
Couldn't get much clearer.

Kwan Yin said I should have
compassion for myself, and others,
for the mistakes of the past,
and keep compassion as I move into the future.

I think of surrender
Look across the vast white expanse of my bed
and think of what it feels like to sleep alone.
I thought I would hate it but it feels better.
I'm able to stretch out and pull the covers around me
and wear my lavender eye-pillow and relax.
I am alone anyway.
Why can't I cut the cord?

My soft white nightgown is my flag-
I wave it,

Try not to think of the mid-term I have to take today
Think instead of the price of rocks-
Which is to be the name of my novel, if I ever finish it.
I realized the other day that I need to write it now
("She has a book inside her and it needs to get out")
not wait until conditions are perfect
because they never will be
but these words will keep bubbling inside me
creating unsafe conditions
if I don't put them down on the pavement and
let the cars roll over them, smoothing them into
something. If not perfect, at least born.

This thing does not have to be born already
fully grown, it just needs to be allowed to be
borne into existence. Labored
and pushed out of me.

What if I was fired and given six months severance
and could just sit and write my novel?
What if I could focus on nothing but writing and
the ocean, being alone to think my words out
instead of having to jot them on napkins while
passing between classes
and work and picking up the kids from school,
transporting them to football practice
and paying for college?
What if I just dropped out of school again,
to 'become a writer?'

What if I just allowed myself to write it
into the cracks between all of the rest of
the stuff? What if it was getting written right now?

Asleep to Dream

Woke with the taste of blood on my tongue
cat scratching on the screen
Don't remember my dreams, but I keep thinking of
the one I had
where I asked my doctor for a prescription
to break up with you.
Reach for the two black rocks I sleep with now, 
next to my pillow,
place one in each palm
Then carefully the larger one
on my belly, just below my navel
and the smaller one in the depression
where my ribs meet.
You would know this is called the xyphiod process.
Hands over rocks, I think of Adam's rib,
of Eve's sacrifice
I think of surrender--
what would it feel like to surrender?

Cat scratches glass 
and flops across my pillow
It's 5:00 am.
The light from my son's room shines 3 stripes on the hallway wall
like steps leading up,
I should have switched that off last night. 
Going to bed each night by 7 pm
I've adopted the sleep pattern of a toddler.
Continuously think of how this feels like I am birthing something. 

(written on 03-16-2014)

Woke up to think that I was young, with an aching

Wake up feeling like I am being tumbled in a box of rocks
or one of those red rock polishers
that we had when we were kids
putting the jagged stones in-
supposedly so that they would come out all shiny and smooth
a few days later

maybe that is the problem
I expected to be tumbled for a few days
or years
but not decades

“What if it was easy” is a refrain
I use a lot nowadays

What if it was easy?
I say to myself as I struggle to get through another reading assignment
or a fight with my girlfriend
or myself

What if it was easy
pops into my head as often as a Christian teen says
“what would Jesus do?
And then I understand, suddenly,
it’s the same thing.
Friends of mine say “What would love do?”
And it’s simple. Love would let it be easy. Love would take a deep breath
and close the books
and take a break
Love would check her facebook
or take her dog to the park and run around for a few hours

Love would drive to the river and play
letting the water sparkle off her eyes like fairies
and letting the sun soak into her soft skin, sand at her back
looking up into the vast sky
watching birds float over

and let it be easy.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

Untitled, for Cile

Grief, in all its woolly and animal ways
Is such a disgusting process.
You have to throw up your own soul. Let it be chewed and then spit back out.
You have to roll it up in a big black ball of tar and throw it in a fire
And then rapidly
Force yourself not to reach your hand into the fire, which never works.
Always we reach in, thinking that there might be
Something else useful for us
If only we could grab it without getting singed.

Grandmother's Passing

Passage premonition peace community struggle acceptance
These are the worlds I am sitting with these mornings
Not pursuing
Allowing acceptance love mothering maternal
Mother's love
Grandmother's life gratitude
A life
97, a number
A century
A life
mattered, measured in years
Measured in gratitude,
measured in children nurtured
Measured in memories
A waiter with a formal suit, towel draped over arm, takes your order
A child, wide-eyed, visiting the big city for the first time
Attends a Broadway show
A mother tells the story
A daughter records it on her iPhone
A sister listens in her ear phones, quivers
How do you measure this? What was she trying to tell us
Or is it just the misfirings of an old woman's addled brain?
Aunt texts me that now she's hallucinating, speaking of things rolling,
I try to think of what she is seeing, hills? The earth and the planets? Years rolling on,
my mind knows that brain cannot conceive of what she sees now
Only hands to hold and hearts to tenderly wrap with love in that tattered blue Afghan,
The soft one that she made me when I was born.
I will wrap her up now and hold her through this
Wishing for peace in her journey across the veil.

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

The fact that you held me, as I held you
And we bore witness to each other's grief, without trying to fix it
Without trying to take away the other's pain
Only to soften the blow
Or maybe to lighten each others' burden
If I can hold some of it for you, for a little while
Until you are feeling strong enough to shoulder it for yourself.
Not in an attempt to repair the other
Not asking for anything to be changed,
We're done with that now.
I've got to make my own mistakes and let you make yours
And then we'll come together and compare notes, like we are in college.

We've both attended the same lecture
But what you heard the professor say was different from what I took away
And so, we help each other study
We enhance each other's learning process.
We are in a study group of life
And you are going to help me pass the test.
Except life itself is the test,
And you can't fail.
Failing was never a possibility
life's lessons are found only in the studying and applying what you learn to the next adventure.
Thanks for being my study partner.
Thanks for helping me see that I can't fuck it up. And that I don't have to fix it

I'm not a broken-down house with a musty basement and a falling down roof and a rotting deck.
I'm a rustic cabin, weathered
By salt-sea air.
My walls are a little bit mossy on one side
And one of my bedrooms has a fusty smell,
And the old gas stove in the kitchen sometimes takes several tries to light.
And one of my lights burned out in the attic several months back, which no one has gotten around to replacing.
But you can open up my windows and breathe in fresh sea air
And you can sit on my porch and feel the sun on your legs and your bare tummy.
And my kitchen always produces the most delicious things to eat,
And in winter my fireplace is warm and inviting. I have cozy quilts to share and keep you warm.
Sometimes I wish that I was the mansion up on the hill, or I think that I should really get around to fixing up those broken bits and start building an addition.
But mostly, now, I can see that I'm just right exactly the way that I am, and you
With your warm energy
And your acceptance of my flaws
Move in and make yourself at home.
Because you know that my mossy walls and my one weird fusty bedroom
Are exactly the thing that makes me such a cozy and eclectic place to live
And you wouldn't trade me for the mansion on the hill, even if it came with a trampoline