Write with TLC

Vulnerability is a bitch in the sense that a bitch is a Babe in Total Control of Herself. (For more on my thoughts about why being called a bitch isn't the insult intended, see Okay, So Sometimes I Really Am a B****, What of It? ) Vulnerability feels like being out of control, but is often a controlled exposure of the best of what's hidden in one's heart and soul. I've long fought exposing my vulnerabilities to others. I held secret the best of me mainly because I somehow confused secret with sacred. I thought by hiding my truth, I was cherishing it and holding it sacred. As I've released my need to conceal all my deep truth, I've realized when we lock our sacred selves in a chest to be discovered like a buried treasure, we cheat the world, those who love us, and even ourselves of the best we can be. I'm still often tempted to avoid letting others see that which makes me feel vulnerable. I see that struggle in the poems I'm compiling for my upcoming ...

In 2013, I challenged myself to write a poem every day. I didn't quite make it. I missed four or five days. I'm not exactly sure, and for once, I'm not going to go back and try to figure it out because that is beside the point. I ended up writing 458 poems for the year. Well, technically, I wrote a few more than that because I accidentally deleted a couple, and I threw away a few that just never quite got where I wanted them to go. I don't know how many of those there were though, so I'm not counting them toward my total. I also co-wrote two poems with a poet friend, Joshua Timothy Simms, and I didn't include them in that total either. It broke down like this January  42 February 33 March 35  plus one collaboration April 73 May 34 June 30 July 36  plus one collaboration August 37 September 34 October 33 November 39 ...

photo by Loay Abu-Husein  I'm in a strange place as the new year approaches. This year has been filled with disappointments and accomplishments, deception and revelation, gains and losses, but then again what year isn't? I've seen a lot of people bemoaning 2013 and wishing for 2014 to get here as if that will magically reset the clock and make all the bad stuff disappear... Wouldn't that be nice? But would it really? I'm not so sure. I've come to realize the bad stuff is just as important to a full life as the good stuff. Without the struggles, how would we grow? Without the disappointments, how would we discover what we don't want? Without the losses, how would appreciate the gains? I love my life. I am happy not because my life is perfect, but because I know this is my journey and I get to travel it until the moment I don't. And, frankly, at least for now, I'd rather be travelling it than not. Even when my heart breaks, I know it's ...

I wish for you Moments of merriment every day A soft place to land when life feels hard The happiness of love The love of family The understanding of friendship The compassion of strangers The unity of cultivating peace May every day Hold within it the potential To share  Moments of merriment With all those we love May today's merriment become a staple in your life... Happy Holidays!

Recently, while I running errands, Orinoco Flow from Enya's Watermark  album played on my playlist. I normally don't like to listen to Enya while driving because it relaxes me too much. Her music takes my imagination on journeys that aren't necessarily conducive to driving. As I listened this time though, my heart felt lighter. I couldn't force myself to change the song. I felt a sudden appreciation for the first time I heard the song. I awakened in a room I didn't recognize with the song playing in the background. I realized it was the first full night of sleep I'd had in a long time. I was alone. While it was morning, it was too early to get up so I went back to sleep. My life was in a bad place at the time, and I struggled to make sense of everything around me. Somehow the simplicity of the song, the message of "sailing away" soothed my chaotic mind and heart. I often equate the song with the beginning of a relationship, loosely speaking, that w...

Dona Nobis Pacem translated to English is Grant Us Peace. I love the idea. If only it were so easy... Peace isn't a gift another can bestow upon us; however, peace is a gift we can join in bestowing upon the world. As I think about what peace means to me, I find my heart racing and my breath becoming ragged. Peace isn't as much as about avoiding war and violence as it is about finding connections to one another. Peace comes when we learn to celebrate our differences rather than use them as excuses to hate. Peace breathes when we learn to acknowledge what we have in common with the person we consider the "other" in this world. Peace happens when we reach out helping hands to not only those we love but to those we deem as enemies. Peace spreads when we learn there is no such thing as an "other" because we all inhabit this Earth together. Peace requires we take action. We can look for ways to resolve our problems without needing to exert our power. We can...

Transition or Rupture? Yesterday as I read Mama Gena's blog post Immobilized and Falling Apart , I felt uncomfortable when she referred to what she described as "rupturing" because of bad things happening in life in order to come back together stronger. It's not that I haven't experienced traumatic experiences or dealt with heartache, betrayal, and loss. It was that, while at some point in my life, I may have identified with the idea of it being a rupture, I've come to a different place. I now think of these "ruptures" as transitions. They show me the bits of me that remain in my core regardless of what happens while showing me what I need to release. I am connected to the trauma and I feel it deeply, I don't believe it destroys, or somehow defines, me. I  acknowledge it, feel it, search it for possible lessons it holds, but I put my focus on what in my life I can actually heal or change or control. I don't fall apart, at least not in t...