once | now
once, you were
a sometimes painful but often happy memory
a short run with a rich narrative
now, you are
a cruel joke in your contention
you make a fantastic punchline
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- grace | healing | love | photography | self-excavation | the delicious now
wound tending
I cut myself yesterday at a party. My daughter came over and blotted my sliced knee with a paper towel, dabbing gently. It was very dear. We asked the hostess if she had any bandaids. She came back with them along with some antibacterial cream. As she dabbed at my cuts, I thanked her for…
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- healing | love | photography | quotes | self-excavation | truth
still do
I never needed you to fix me validate me or take care of me. I just needed to be loved cared for respected and held. (Still do.) “Anxiety is love’s greatest killer. It makes others feel as you might when a drowning man holds on to you. You want to save him, but you know…
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art | creativity | healing | inspiration | photography | self-excavation | the delicious now | unbridled expressioni make pretty messes
All of the paradox and contradictions. I always wished I could make pretty things. I wish I was a pretty thing. But what’s true is I am messy and complicated. I make more messes. I make pretty messes. I’ve been doing some inner calibration lately and ran across this journal entry from earlier this year. …
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enough for today
“Each small task of everyday life is part of the total harmony of the Universe.” ~Saint Therese of Lisieux Having been sick for a week means that my center of operation has been bed. It’s almost as though nothing in the outside world is real save the birds I hear outside my window and the…
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- divine | grace | healing | mystery | photography | poetry | self-excavation | the delicious now | truth
wings aflutter
sometimes, when i am most despondent when i feel i have betrayed or been betrayed too many times to count (or handle)– just then when i doubt myself my wisdom my power my grace (my existence)– right then wings aflutter an angel comes (in myriad forms) bringing a reflection of my wholeness my beauty my…
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pilgrimage
in this time between seasons as the wheel turns and the days darken, the cold becomes turgid then flaccid and again– disorienting to this body that craves comfort. on a pilgrimage in the forest i am held and feel the soft earth ‘neath my feet. my warm breath is a bouquet of white flowers greeting…
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