Saturday, October 31, 2015

Not Funny at all

my heart hurts

my heart hurts

my heart hurts

my heart hurts

Isn't it funny --not funny at all-- how our hearts can make everything hurt?  My breathing is labored.  Anxious.  High.  Fast.  Troubled.  My heart beats like a hummingbird and slows to a crawl.  Eyes tear up.  Body aches.

There are emotional knots



And it all hurts.

It hurts because I Love him.


Understanding hits when you least expect it.


Is it possible that a relationship can cloud your thoughts?
Can there be some sort of mental block that occurs?
A shroud of black mist, perhaps, that only lifts when you have said goodbye?

When you have finally



Letting go is not easy.  It is painful and harrowing and traumatic.



And yet... perhaps it is for the best.  For both of us.

Perhaps the shroud has blinded us both.

Held us both back.

Confused our minds and hearts and wills.

I don't like this.

Not one bit.

So why, in the morning after, am I suddenly hit with such profound understanding of what I was trying to grasp for three years?

The understanding has only come

only come

when we are apart.

And that sucks.

Because it could have been great.

Would have been great.

We were set to change the world.


So it doesn't make sense to me

why we have to be


But who said life had to make sense?

No one, really.

Especially not me.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

The Chairs of Chaos

Things naturally fall into chaos if they aren't taken care of...

                                                  Piles of mail and bills and whatnot
                                                            The human body
                                                    The mind              
                                             The soul

I have let a lot of things go in my life.

For some strange reason I didn't know life took so much


That it took so much
                                                 to maintain    

                let alone improve and grow and blossom and flourish.

Look at these chairs:

This is what became of many parts of my life.

And I'm not really sure why.

Not only did my chairs look like this --

   but my house looked like this
                (my basement especially looked like this -- worse, I'd say)
            my desk looked like this
                          (piles and piles of paper who-knows-what)              
                    my mind looked like this
                       my marriage looked like this
                                 my friendships looked like this
and here's the scary part:

I didn't realize how bad everything looked.  I knew, but I didn't know.

I didn't know how far in disrepair it all was.

Like stripping the fabric from these chairs --

Oh Yikes!!  I can't believe how dirty these are!!  I've been living this way?!

This way of life was a bar in my cage.  (Many bars in my cage...)  That I had placed there.  On purpose (I guess... according to my therapist.  Seriously?!  I let my house (etc.) be like this on Purpose?!  Why in the world do I do that?!)  Apparently I'm supposed to be the one that answers that question.

I still haven't figured out why I let it get so bad... why it went so far.

I still have a lot of figure out...

But what I do know...

                                   is that I don't want to live that way anymore.

There is no need to.

        There is no need to.

This is part of my fluttering leaves (aka sort-of-turning-a-new-leaf):

I am going to take care of things.

I am going to take care of
                                 my house
                                     my lawn
                                           my car
                                                my desk
                                                       my relationships
                                                               (especially my relationships)


                                                   my chairs.

Leaf Flutters (aka turning-over-a-new-leaf)

Friday, August 8, 2014

Leaf Flutterings

Sometimes it seems we need to turn over a new leaf.

Fluttering leaves captured by my mom.

To start over -- to begin again -- to start fresh and clean and new.

But no matter how many leaves we try to turn or twist or bend or toss...

                         ... we are still the same person.


We can change how we live

     We can change the choices and decisions we make

           We can change our language or our style
                                                             or the way we saunter across a room

But we are the same "me" after the leaf turn as we were before.

A person could lose 160 pounds....

      they could go through a massive change in how they think and
                                                                                 act and view the world...

            and they would still be the same beautiful mess of molecules that they were before.

In a good way.

I debated whether I should start a brand new blog.  One that wasn't full of former thoughts and musings.  One that wasn't who I was before.

But I still am the me I was before.

And that's life.

We can change -- even drastically -- but we can't get rid of our past.

And I wouldn't want to.

My past makes me who I am.

So instead of turning over a new leaf...

               I am pondering the flutterings of the many leaves of me.

     I see them

                blowing in the wind

                            catching the sunlight as they dance and wave

                                                                                                   and change.

A newness

           -- maybe not fresh and clean --

                                     but catching the light in beautiful and new ways.

A fluttering

              in my heart

                           to journey on.

Friday, December 6, 2013

The Vertical Life

A poem in response to Logion 52 from the Gospel of Thomas.

Feet planted.

Growing deep…

rooted down…

deep into the ground.

Hands up.  Stretched high.

Poking through the sky ceiling

and into the dark cosmos depths.


stretched and ribbon long.

Face turned up.  To the Son.

Soaking in Love.  Peace.

Living a Vertical Life.

Come, Lord Jesus.

His students said,

"Each of Israel's twenty-four prophets
spoke about you."

Jesus said,
"You ignore the living one in your presence
and speak only about the dead."
(Logion 52)

The Singular Always Inconvenient Invitation

"I would hate to think of my teacher suddenly appearing before me, extending that singular but always inconvenient invitation, and hearing myself offer the knee-jerk response, 'I'm sorry, that doesn't work for me.'" -- Cynthia Bourgeault

A poem.  Based on Logion 64 from the Gospel of Thomas and Cynthia Bourgeault's commentary.

The Singular Always Inconvenient Invitation

It comes at the worst possible time...

right when I've figured everything out.

Of course.


do I silence the call?

Or take the jump?

Come, Lord Jesus.

Jesus says,

A man was having guests, and
when he had prepared the dinner,
he sent out his servant to call them.
He went to the first and said,
"My master calls you."
He replied, "I have some funds
for some merchants who are
coming to me this evening.
I beg to be excused from dinner."

He went to another saying,
"My master has invited you."
He said to him,
"I have bought a house which
requires a day of my time.
I am too busy to come."

He came to another and said to him,
"My master calls you."
He said to him,
"My friend is getting married,
and I am cooking the wedding dinner.
I ask you to excuse me."

He went to another one and said,
"My master calls you."
This one replied, "I have bought a farm,
and I am on my way to pay taxes.
I cannot come. Please excuse me."

The servant went back to his master and said,
"Those you invited to dinner
have all excused themselves."
The master said to the servant,
"Go outside onto the roads. Seize them there,
and bring them here to eat.
Those busy buying and selling
cannot get into my Father's realm."
(Logion 64)

Living Water

A poem in response to Logion 74 from the Gospel of Thomas

I blink.

And realize…

the fountain I've been standing in front of is empty.

Always has been…

unbeknownst to me.

I grieve the water of this life I thought I knew.  The water that never was.

I stumble backward…. afraid … is everything not as it was?

And I fall.


Into the deep well of Spirit and Life and Breath and Love

right here.  Inside me.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Jesus says,

O Lord,
Many have gathered around the fountain,
but there is nothing in the well.
(Logion 74)