intimidated by the empty page

Sitting down to an empty page feels like 


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


pushing
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?

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

Speak!

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?

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.
Meticulous.
Disciplined.

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.