Taste the sun

I want to sprinkle it on everything I do,
capture it in everything I see.
The light
and the life it illuminates.

Sometimes, I feel so close to the heat,
the burning blaze on my cheek
the blinding flash
behind my eyes..
I am so close,
I can almost taste the sun.

much love this Tuesday
xoxo

The indispensable in-between

The space between actions,

and space between thoughts,

seemingly useless, 

infinitely not.

***

A flow of

active flashes fills

my nights of 

sleeping.

Patchworks of memory

tied by rapid 

bursts of feeling. 

Timelessness,

a hollow,

rules the 

gentle drifts

of dreaming.

I am the rider,

the glider, 

the promising pathfinder,

the surfer swiftly turning

in between the 

crushing walls of wake,

before the last swallow,

until the final take.

Scattered scraps I follow,
an invisible line that leads,
whispers of buried secrets
consume the in-between.
"Go huntress" she speaks,
"seek and Godspeed.
There are no bindings or
boundaries here,
no limits to heed.
Just you, the clouds,
and your indispensable
dreams."

"Yet it is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top."
 ~Virginia Woolf

And what do your dreams say to you, awake or not?

xoxoxo

The Winners of the Meet the Marks giveaway:

#6 Kim

and

#23 mb

Congratulations and please email me your addy! And thanks everyone for entering and commenting :).

xoxo

ps. Joining Bella for 52 Photos Project {distance}

Little stars

"When he shall die

Take him and cut him out in little stars
And he will make the face of heav'n so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun."

William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Wishing you peace this weekend...

xoxo

The wind is wild

So, a good friend of mine suggested that I don't write poetry on the blog.

His opinion is that poetry is a difficult thing to connect with, extremely subjective and ambiguous. Meaning, I may know what the hell I am writing about, but others may not (like studying poetry in 9th grade). The other thought, my poetry just sucks and no one gets it.

I do see his point in some ways. Whenever I post poetry, it receives the least amount of comments compared to anything else I post. The real question is though, do I give a crap? I don't, not one bit.

Don't get me wrong, I love posting things readers respond to. But I think if we have been blogging long enough, we get better at not measuring success or joy by the amount of comments received. If I did, I would have quit a long time ago, hehe. Receiving and giving comments carries a meaning all its own, a meaning filled with honest gratitude, kindness, and connection. I have learned that the better I get at separating ego from giving or receiving comments, the more honest and authentic I feel.

So back to the poetry. I am also learning that to truly commit to being creative, you cannot give two shits about rejection, failure, approval, or any form of external validation. Harder said than done, I know. I can say with self-proclaimed expertise, praise can be an insidious poison that creates addicts if we don't remember our intentions. So if and when a kindness does arrive, humility and gratitude overcomes ego and ambition. I may not be a natural poet, and I may not be particularly good at prose either, but I lose myself in the beauty of words. Anyone that spends time listening for the heartbeat a collection of words can muster, is reeled in helplessly and willingly by the daydream and romance the rhythm spins. This is what I love, this is what I seek.

So, here I am helpless and willing, tossing my words out into the world with no agenda, only for the joy of it :). That's just what bloggers and writers do :).

I wrote this last night as the winds around Boulder shook things up a little...(btw, if you couldn't tell, I love alliteration :).

A walk in the moonlight
is a wish that won't be made tonight.

The wind--
wild, whooshing and whirling,
crashes against the window,
waving woody branches as if
wanting them to grow wings and fly.

I wait for the whistling--
or the howling,
but the gusts want to
wax and wane instead.

Without worry, I feel warm
and safe within my house
as a whirlwind of leaves
scatter across the streets,
wandering far away from where they once began.



xoxo

Happy Wednesday

empty mind, handfuls and a passionate heart

"Be at peace" is what she whispered in my ear.
And so I sit with nothing in my mouth
or clenched between the teeth.

The space behind my eyes glimmer,
shimmering as lights bounce around
the vastness that is my mind.

My hands keep moving,
trembling, floating, amidst open spaces
twisting, tying, holding,

turning, changing, forming,
making something
from nothing

and this I see,
and this I feel

means

everything.




This week, I've made a medicine bag of deerskin filled with trinkets from my past, herbs that heal, and stones that evoke. I've made another dreamcatcher with turquoise, amber, and bone, and a long, white turkey feather I found at a farm. More sketching with microns, knitting, and reading...

 

And I end with one consideration: passion without premeditated purpose. Passion, in all its primitive prowess, raw, and powerful, driven by its own desirability....

I think Bukowski said it best....

so you want to be a writer ~ by Charles Bukowski

if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

Have a beautiful weekend my friends, and be driven by a passionate heart and empty mind...

xoxo

Whirring...inside out

The wind outside beats against my window clawing to come in

And I am mesmerized by the whirring of my insides clamoring to get out

I am mesmerized by
the hum, the vibration, of my
daring need to fly

I am mesmerized by
our jagged armor held together by melted glue

If you let me in, if you peel what sticks to you and expose the deep reds and blues that line the inside of you

we can whir together and beat the hollowness like wild beasts making music

and dance until
our insides are hanging wildly about

Is it really Wednesday already? Is it already half way past October? I am truly whirling and the days are a blur. I close my eyes and imagine myself in a train station with people and trains buzzing past me on fast forward. Slowly, I extend my left leg out and try to trip time off its feet. But we know how miserably I fail.

So I recount time here: pumpkin patches, screen printing class, a soul sister visiting from Chicago for 4 hours, a book binding class, discovering new music, learning to knit cables, reading Rilke, Whyte, Nin and Oliver, writing deeply in journals (which feels like slicing a pumpkin wide open, and I can see my fleshy insides exposed), and carving pumpkins only to have them devoured by fat squirrels. No one told us about the squirrels and their fancy for pumpkins. Florida squirrels never did that. So we bought more pumpkins for dramatically moved girl who cried out in woe for her demised pumpkin that she named. And then we roasted the pumpkin seeds with butter and salt, mmmmm.

 :).

Good Wednesday to you my fellow time travelers...

xoxo

Wildflowers

Write, 
flutter the stomach, 
quiver the heart and 
shut the eyes. 
Seek the mouth like bees
and burst forth-- 
dusted and drunk from
the nectar of words

Struggle,
you will, 
as by nature they are fleeting, 
and your muse--teasing, 
flitting about your head 
like fireflies leaving 
ghostly trails, 
invisible crumbs,
then nothing

Pluck, 
one by one 
despite clumsiness and 
a shriveled hand,
despite a darkness  
you cannot suck,
despite weeds
you cannot pull.
Wildflowers 
speckle a field
and wait
for you.

For you, the thoughtful one who gets lost in words and lives by trying to inhale, guzzle, and become them....

xoxo

ps. Daughter has a new song out!! Enjoy....

 

and enjoy some more...

Yellow brick road

Fall, here, is unlike any I have ever seen.
Fall, here, is paved in golds and orange-dusted yellows
through fields of rich pine greens.
Gazers and eager adventurers like me
stared speechlessly,
with dreams of Oz beyond the tippy tops of trees.

Monday love...
xoxo

Walk purposefully

Walk purposefully
into the deep and the dark,
turn back briefly
and behold the light once more.
Reflect upon the gold
while leaves on fire
release their life 
bright and bold.

Find what shines
and fear not what you show.
Release all that binds,
and unveil passionately
the kindling that
ignites your soul.

Welcome fall, I've been waiting for you...

Wishing you a brilliant weekend...

xoxo

it's always there, we just have to see it ♥ 

A Walk 
My eyes already touch the sunny hill.

going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has inner light, even from a distance-

and charges us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on
answering our own wave...
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.
~Rainer Maria Rilke
We are mistaken if we think that the light in our dreams is what will make us whole. We are already light, we are already whole, we are already beautiful. Does this mean we don't reach for the stars? No, it only means to unseal what is closed, mend what is broken, embrace what is real, and walk where your heart desires. The stars are already in your pockets...

xoxo

hang on

i wanna keep the slow.
break it down
hold it down
keep it still
pause

in two hands, rope,
a lasso
over my head it spins
my eye on the prize
I throw

A break in the gray,
something on the ground,
I look up and
through the heavy haze,
I can see.

she is round, clear,
perfect,
hovering,
watching.
no blindness
no burning
just fire with
graceful, long fingers
reaching down like webs,
reaching for her children
trying to hold on.

I hear the ground scrape
as my feet slide,
I am slow.
Breathing in,
I wrap my arm around once,
adjust my grip, then tighten.

hang on
hang on tight
she says....

here we go


xoxo

La Lune

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She's real,

mystical 

and magical.

 I wish 

I could touch her

smell her

 dance on her,

 float.

 Her presence

 illuminates

 and she is closer

 than we know.

 Just as 

she can move 

the oceans,

 she can move

 the soul...

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It's such a strange paradox when I think about our existence. It's all so explained, and yet unexplained. It can be as real as we want it to be I suppose. I can bury myself in time schedules, appointments, must-do's, and necessities. I can talk to my children about their futures and their responsibilities and what may be expected of them one day when they "grow up". I get bored talking about those things. Those things they will learn soon enough. I want to tell them to never lose their sense of wonder, for where there is wonder there is magic, and where there is magic, there is creativity, and with creativity, we find passion, and with passion we find the colors that make life vibrant. I want to tell them to never ignore their desire to wander as wandering allows for expansion of experience, thought and spirit. And I want to tell them to remember that everything they touch, use, and rely upon, once held or began as a magical thought, a vision and a dream.

My new favorite bestest band ever (I know, I'm late):

Sigur Rós - Glósóli from Sigur Rós on Vimeo.

Linking with LB for Pin Party #4 "The Moon"

much love and magic to you

xx oo

all photo sources found on Pinterest here

Autumn shadows

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I know it's not possible to actually feel the Earth move. But when seasons begin to change from summer to fall, I think it's the sun that reveals Her secrets. While rays reach like fingers vast across the surface, nature follows suit. She knows it's time to shed again. Down here, where there are no fall foliages, no symphony of reds, oranges, or yellows on the trees, it's the shadows that play the music. I can feel it in the mornings and the evenings, as the sun rises and sinks, like the ripples at the edges of a skirt...soft... subtle...That's when She sings the loudest, and I swear, I can feel her move...

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My favorite season is peeking around the corner. Please excuse me while I do my happy dance.  And because the leaves go straight from green to brown down here, you'll have to excuse me borrowing for everyone else's autumn colors  :). And if you have some subtle signs that sing to you, please do share:).

Linking with LB's Pinney Party #3 {Shadows}

All photos can be found on Pinterest here

xoxo

Summers are...

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Summers are for open roads 

with dreams and loaded cars.

Skinny sandals and bare feet

walk beaches and discover.

Faithful stories at your side, 

summer dresses and cold drinks.

The drifting smell of barbeque 

mingling with the heat. 

And though the showers still may come 

bringing coolness and relief,

the gentle breeze of autumn calls, 

moving closer to your skin.

Summer's last days are here...

don't forget to take them in.

And if the fireflies still dance,

go ahead, and dance with them...

much love

xx oo

Linking with LB at Everyday Dreamer for a Pinney Party #2

*All photos can be found on Pinterest HERE*