Monday, July 20, 2009

I much prefer

I much prefer sunshine
yellow and warm finding every crevice and crack in my being
melding into me
reminding me of who i am.

I much prefer bliss
Ecstatic overflowing joy
tickling my everything
no where for sorrow to take hold

I much prefer peace
the state of still waters
a knowing that no matter what has come or will
all is well

I much prefer love
the all encompassing dance made of blues and oranges
reds and purples
connecting me to you
me to all

I much prefer dancing
the whirl of skirts and smiles
colors and music entwined in
happy surrender

I much prefer the knowing that I am part of all that brings laughter and fulfillment and creation and hope and joy and peace and love.

only in the occasional absence
of that which i prefer
i truly
it's truth.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Like Me

I am challenged by


By choices and my reactions to them.
I am faced with acknowledging that despite
my ability to accept spiritual and intellectual truths...


meaning is not inherent, but determined
attachment is a choice that can lead to pain
my feelings are born out of my own personal choices
i can change the way i feel by questioning and changing the way

i think.

Despite my ability to spiritually and intellectually accept these truths,
I struggle to apply them to the situations that arise in my life.

I made a choice.
I acted on that choice because i wanted to experience that choice.
That choice was tethered to an attachment I have.
I don't regret the choice,

the choice has

just like all choices do.

And though all is well, I moved myself into a space where applying
the things that I "believe" is called for.

I find it interesting that as a child, or even as a young adult, one
assumes that at some point in adulthood, we'll "get it". We'll have


Get it,

It will all be clear
there will be nothing left to learn
we'll make no more mistakes
we'll have "reached" our goals

We sort of live like those things are true, don't we? And, though we
may realize with clarity

nothing is clear
there is so much left to learn
we make mistakes
we haven't reached our goals

we act as though we're the "shizzle",
wrapping ourselves in invisible
protective super-hero capes that keep everyone else from knowing that
we are the




So, here, I admit to you that I know that like me, you are human.
Like me, you wish you were better at it.
Like me, you know you could reach higher.
Like me, you get tired.
Like me, sometimes it seems like a little too much.

And like me,
you forget just how perfect it really is.


Thursday, April 09, 2009

And So it IS


is so literal.

So, i'm doing this work.
spiritual work -- i guess

and what i do is claim.

i claim that i am not
do not want to be
am working to avoid

attached to things

i can almost hear 
asking me, "Really?"

"Well, yes. Of course",
I retort (with a dismissive snort).

"Ok then", Life responds.

And, then, I make plans.
I get excited about the architecture of them
and get all giddy with detail in my head

about what will be
and when
and how
and why
and exactly this and that.

Life raises an eyebrow at me.

And I plan and think about 
a time that not only may, but

will come.

And I get all gleeful about it.
And then.
I get sad

thinking about what if
something goes wrong
or keeps it from happening
or rocks my very 
from their ever so carefully orchestrated foundation....


And the now, 
in which I live 

it's ever moving
never moving
as it always has
always will
always does.

Calendar pages flip
digital clocks skip through crimson lit numbers
tick tick tick
of the watch wound to keep track of moments leading up 

away from
getting there
further from

anticipated moments wrapped in 
illusory ribbons
holding what is assumed to be

As I walk toward my lovingly crafted plans
critical elements
begin to fall away
fall apart
out of the illusion that I created
and told myself
so convincingly

was real.

There is no real

except the very moment
the very experience
the very breath
that I am taking right 


And I hear my love,
the Life that created me 
say, "Remember your claim? 
That you accept, You walk into,
You willingly dance with
only that which really is. That you 
allow the fluidity of this very
energy to create the painting
that you see, and that you will love it
with all that you are. 


Life Smiles

and I remember.

And so it is.

Monday, April 06, 2009


I wonder if we all have "alters".
I just finished watching the entire season one of The United States of Tara on Showtime.
First of all, it was amazing, and Toni Collette is brilliant, yet
that isn't what keeps the story on my mind.
The character, Tara, allegedly had a traumatic experience when she was away at boarding school as a teenager, and coped with it by splitting her consciousness into several different personalities.

Though the majority of us don't manage our personal traumas, secrets, shames this dramatically, I wonder if we don't have personalities that help us to cope.
When I was watching the end of the show, I couldn't help but think about all of the judgement that we heap upon ourselves and others in this culture. 
We are expected to live within the lines drawn arbitrarily by religion, politics, and social mores passed down through generations.  We are expected to paint on this face of "ok-ness", and if we can't -- or don't-- we aren't acceptable.

The personalities that Tara developed into could be seen as somewhat cliche, yet, don't we all have them?  There is "T", the sexually aggressive, 16 year old pot smoker who doesn't give a rats ass what boundaries are expected of her; there is Alice, the 1950's kick back who is going to paint on her Better House and Garden's face and cover any adversity with blueberry muffins;and there is Buck, the Vietnam vet, drinking, smoking, tough talking, gun cleaning, punch throwing, fart lighting dude who will stand up to even the slightest disrespect. 
And then, there is the alter that really interests me.  The name given to it is "Gimme", and it is like a child that has been raised away from any culture, full of fear and anger and shame.
Gimme acts out in wild, completely unacceptable ways to protect Tara from herself.  To protect Tara from healing.

Gimme made me think of myself. Not that I am like Gimme. I like to think that my cultural assimilation is one of my more charming qualities.
Yet, there are secret, dark places in me. There are shames that I rarely speak. To my knowledge, they are not things that you would recoil in disgust or judgement over, but tell that to my Gimme.
One of the areas that I have dysfunctionally coped with internal discord is with the addiction to being overweight. I find it fascinating that though I am as well-versed in the methods of how to change this as any consultant on The Biggest Loser, I have not made this change. 
Now, I have lost, and gained the same 30 lbs many times. This tells us that I am, indeed, able to do this thing. And then, just when I feel like progress is within my reach --
And whatever that deep, dark, angry part of me is trying to keep hidden, is protected.

I'll keep working.

Do we all have a Gimme?

Saturday, February 07, 2009

As you go.


want this.
not that.
all spilled together
colors and substance and light and 
like drops of water in the ocean

joy illuminates isolated moments
blocks of moments
lifetimes of moments

elation adds music to silence
intoxicating sound

connection creates bridges over 
angry seas
depths unknown
years of learning, wanting, needing

a story with missing pages
a song with notes imagined
a lifetime with moments longed for

creates questions
breath taking certainty
and shadows
and light
and bliss
and angst

a scale holding two sides of the same thing
a child's teeter totter 
giving glee to shifting shapes
weights constantly changing
perception ever fluid


Never a dot to dot
Never a paint by numbers exercise
But a joyful

A dance made up

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

a thread through time

life never fails to enliven my days
with joys
in the form of people.

When I was 15, I went to a church youth conference.
I honestly don't remember a lot from the conference itself
except that it was flippin fun.
A group of high school aged kids from my church road tripped to Michigan
and spent a week
high on God

I met Michael that week. I believe he was 17. I was 15.
I wish I could tell you when, why, how we connected.
I don't remember. I remember laughing
Michael was a Jesus freak hippy.
Adorable. Long, dark hair, blue eyes, an unpretentious "i'm cool" way of dressing....
he played guitar. my complete weakness.
I would sing along with him floating in bliss.
He was also funny. hilarious.
singing and laughing.
singing and laughing.

Our relationship played out as a friendship
chaste and God focused.
But oh, did I love him.

He trumped everyone, and everything.
In the following years, there were phone calls.... phone bills
travel to see him
the kind of youth drenched, innocent immersion in another
that great summer movies are made of.

As I moved into college, Michael faded into the background a bit.
more and more.
I never stopped caring, I never stopped loving him.
Just -- sort of like your childhood bedroom.
It's always there, you love it, you want it to be there
but you just don't think about it as much anymore.

I had relationships, graduated from college, started a career,
spent time at a church, had my heart broken, married.....

Mike and I have had a sort of "Christmas card" friendship for the past
several years. There have been a couple phone calls - but none that
dove past the "how've you been, whatcha up to, how is your family" line of conversation.

Sometime in the past months, we connected again through email and i
happened to ask if he had an instant messenging program. He did.
I added his name, and then forgot.

Last week, his name was lit up.
My heart skipped a beat.
See, as valuable and meaningful and impactful as Mike
has been to the formation of so many things about me, I had a fear of
talking to him in depth.

Part of the foundation of my friendship with Michael was our
shared devotion and unwavering love of Jesus.
Christianity - radical and unapologetic.
Jesus freaks laughing and loving singing and knowing.

In the past decade or so, my heart's awareness of it's maker
and the requirements that maker places on us as children
have changed dramatically.
If you know me, you know that I am pretty brave.
Outspoken, clear.
I will share the way my soul feels about such things with the best of them.
But with those who's very hearts break at the thought of me becoming a
"lost sheep"?
I tend to steer clear.

The thought of facing the "How is your walk with the Lord" talk
has often made me weak in the knees.
I never want to disappoint people that I love.
And I know the kind of disappointment that goes along with
finding out someone you once shared your most intimate life view
no longer shares it.

Michael and I began to chat.
Maybe it was the media -- the format,
but all formal illusion fell away, and as soon as I knew it, we were laughing
and talking and joking as if the past 25 years hadn't passed at all.
A connection that transcened every major and minor detail
that has colored the landscape of our lives since then.

In a moment of "what the hell",
a level of trust had been established... I broached the scary subject.
Couched in vague hues,
I told him.... that my relationship with Christianity had altered
dramatically. Before he could respond, I confessed that my
heart had feared
telling him.


"You'll be relieved to know that mine has too"

We talked about it.
Though our stories don't mirror one another's,
and we may not be exactly on the same page,
I felt like floodgates had opened.
I was accepted by this person
that I had loved so much.
respected beyond reason.

Would it have mattered if my fears had come to pass?
If he had offerred up judgement or disappointment or
attempts at convicing me otherwise?

I think so.

Would I have judged him in turn?
I hope not. I guess I can't say. I hope not.

All I know is that again,
a friendship, clothed in the back drop of time
has re-emerged for me
into a new and meaningful

I am so grateful.

It makes me want to