love | photography | poetry | self-excavation
find the key
i feel it
poetry lives inside you
behind those eyes
that hold secrets of unknown
fertile lands
why not find the key
and open
the door to
your golden heart?
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- love | self-excavation | truth
need redux
Yesterday, my mom told me I needed to learn to reach out more–to need more. She said, “Sometimes people want to feel needed (meaning her). You come off as someone who doesn’t need anyone. You’ve always been that way.” I thought about what that meant and if it was true. I thought about writing this….
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- faith | healing | inspiration | love | quotes | the delicious now | truth
look for good
“Don’t give up on me and I won’t give up on you.” ~Michael Franti The world is not ending because the banks are corrupt. (Greed has always existed and is rapidly being replaced by sharing. You’ll see.) The world is not also not ending because fish and birds are dying. (They die all the time…
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- divine | grace | healing | love | mystery | photography | poetry | quotes | the delicious now | truth
a drink from Love's hand
“I know the way you can get When you have not had a drink of Love: Your face hardens, Your sweet muscles cramp. Children become concerned About a strange look that appears in your eyes Which even begins to worry your own mirror And nose. Squirrels and birds sense your sadness And call an important…
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the end of reminscilocomotion [or the finding of peace]
I created a new word about something I have done a lot which I am henceforth eliminating from my vocabulary. Yes, that’s right, I am both creatrix and destructrix right now, in this moment. The word is “reminiscilocomotion (verb): the act of moving forward while looking back.” I am not the girl who got “bad-touched”…
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- art | divine | grace | healing | photography | poetry | quotes | the delicious now
blessings of existence
The Guest House This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably….
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playdate haiku
red lint in my hair googleplex hours of talking a bruise on my lip
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