Saturday, June 16, 2012

intimidated by the empty page

Sitting down to an empty page feels like 

for the courage to jump off the cliff into the swimming hole

for the bike to move forward in high gear after a stop

and searching 
for a way to express love in a new way to a person I have expressed love to five million times before

My mind is a rabid squirrel in a cage with flour, eggs, and butter.
Do you really expect a cake?

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Strong Woman

Strong woman
Come walk with me
I want to feel the sun on my face
while I listen to your stories
I want to link my arm with yours and put my head on your shoulder

Strong woman
Be strong so I can admire you
Show me you are intelligent, articulate, and independent
I will scribble things you say on scraps of paper
You are a living example of who I could be

Strong woman
Please do the things that I am cannot
Let the wind be your hair dresser
Smile to show off your wrinkles
Hold your head high and don't wonder what your butt looks like in those jeans

Strong woman
Don't tippy toe around and worry about offending people
Cut through the layers of what's culturally acceptable and what's real
Show me how to do this too

Strong woman
Let me spill my soul on you
Can you catch all the pieces and tell me what I mean?
Can you see me for who I really am?
Can you love me and hold me while I cry?

Strong woman
There's a place for you in my life
A place for brunch at the coffee shop
A place on my shelf for books you've recommended
A place in my heart for your warmth

Strong woman
Why am I a strong woman?

Monday, July 4, 2011

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

falling aslee...

I remember falling asleep in my 7:25am Chemistry class in High School frequently. In review of my notes, they always started out meticulous: each concept articulated well and every word perfectly formed. You could tell when the first wave of sleepiness hit because the quality of my handwriting always went first; then the ideas became more abstract, I started leaving out a few words, and the last few lines were more squiggles than sentences. My favorite part was when the pencil would start drifting down the page in the middle of a word. That faded pencil mark was visual evidence of the moment that unconsciousness overwhelmed me.

This is the way I feel about my spirituality.
My beginning was structured.

I took copious quantities of notes,
studied diligently,
prayed fervently,
believed wholeheartedly.

And then the first wave hit,
then another
and more after that.

Was it doubt?
Was it open-mindedness?

I feel as if I've told this story over and over.
That's because I have.
I've been reviewing the same notes.
Reflecting on all the same sad moments of my shattered faith.
looking at faded photographs of my former self...

I fell asleep!

I am conscious of my unconsciousness.
I am living 100% in the physical world.
And this is okay.

But someday it will be different.