my eyes close.
I fall asleep quickly.
Tomorrow’s another busy day.
So I Write
And then I just know.
The tradeoff
between staying
or going to another place
that is really just more of the same
makes me feel flat.
And, anyway,
the person they want and expect,
well, she doesn’t exist anymore.
I guess I was right,
they can’t afford me,
no one can,
because what I’m seeking
comes from within.
It’s my soul’s turn
to be front and center
with the freedom
to live its intended journey.
There is no turning back.
I crossed a line
I didn’t even know existed,
until now.
And it wasn’t this dramatic event.
More like gentle nudges,
guiding me.
I’m finally getting quiet
to hear the loving whispers
from my essence.
I’m finally listening.
I feel regret
for living the life of an imposter
for all these years.
What a blessing
to be feeling such strain
over my charlatan ways.
Tolerable and satisfied
keeps me passive and complacent,
while the angst lets me advance,
to write,
because writing is about…
connecting to truth,
clarifying my truth,
creating from truth.
It’s the act of writing
that makes this sorrow go away.
So I take one step at a time
to where I’m being led
because my soul gets
that if I understand all at once
where this is heading,
I could get stuck,
maybe even hide out.
Words are coming through me.
That I know for sure.
What comes from that,
I have no clue.
The not knowing
used to stop me
from moving forward.
Now I find it…
inviting, enticing, alluring.
Where is this all leading?
It’s all so simple
and so hard,
to live in faith
when what I am being
called to become
appears right now as…
impractical, pointless, unfeasible.
I realize now
that the ego defines success
by the outcomes achieved.
While, victory for the soul
is the process itself.
So I surrender
to this unnamed longing,
and live in this creative tension.
And so I write.
Part I
The Ego…
and the suffering it creates
Message from the Tea Leaves
Let’s just say it wasn’t a great meeting.
In fact, the whole day at work pretty much sucked.
The blustery, gray afternoon now matches the mood
I suddenly find myself in.
A nice cup of tea beckons me.
Interesting, because I usually drink coffee,
but I’m already wired on life.
I grab my mug,
pour in some hot water
and head back to my desk.
Way in the back,
in the second drawer on the left
is a tea bag that’s been there too long.
It’d have to do.
As my tea brews,
I notice, in my peripheral vision,
words on the white square piece of paper
at the end of the string
attached to the tea bag.
Be proud of who you are.
I take sips of my tea as I work,
allowing the liquid elixir to seep in,
while repeating the message,
each time slower and more deliberately,
Be…proud…of…who…you…are.
Am I proud of who I am?
Yeah, sure…
I want to believe I do,
yet the tear forming
tells me otherwise.
Velvet Coffin
Close your eyes,
be still,
and conjure up
your worst fears.
Now you have a sense
of the cage
you’re imprisoned in.
Yes, at times
you’ve changed one
velvet coffin for another,
but it’s all the same.
In the need
for control,
to feel safe,
we choose to create
our own version of Hell.
Quenching My Thirst
I’m so parched.
Mouth dry.
Lips chapped.
Can barely speak.
I keep drinking
what they’re offering,
but it never satisfies me.
I still feel empty and depleted.
There has to be something
to make this thirst go away.
Seeping through cracks,
trickling out of crevices,
water stains on ceilings,
puddling in corners,
my house leaking.
I’m surrounded by water,
yet still insatiable.
Water follows the path
of least resistance.
What is my house trying to tell me?
Gypsy
Gypsy,
the great pretender,
noticed by others,
dressed in style,
working the room,
hiding,
right in front of you.
Gypsy,
chameleon,
bartering who she is
with what you want her to be
as long as you give her
what she wants.
Gypsy,
protector,
fierce like a tiger,
sly like a fox,
taking,
to then give away,
her intentions purer
than her persona.
Gypsy,
misunderstood,
watching, waiting
to expose your vulnerabilities
to her advantage,
tired of the struggle,
the drama,
and the double standard.
Little does she know
that what she wants most
to receive
is the one thing
she struggles to offer…
herself
The Red Sundress
I’m shoved in the back of her closet,
pressed between an evening gown
last worn to a wedding a few years ago
and a pair of too tight jeans
she’s hoping to fit into again someday.
Once in a while,
she catches a glimpse of crimson
amongst the sea of somber tones
and looks at me wistfully.
Magnetized since she first saw me
<
br /> hanging in the gift shop five years ago,
the attraction hasn’t waned.
She gets hints of things she doesn’t understand,
pieces of other realities she can’t connect.
After all these years,
she keeps trying to solve the riddle
while waiting for the right occasion to put me on
because her life doesn’t match my color and style.
Maybe, just maybe,
she needs to put me on
and wear me, finally, for
I’m not the destination.
I’m not the answer.
I’m the doorway,
the invitation,
the question.
Isn’t everything that?
So Done!
You leave me feeling so uninspired,
but that’s my fault, not yours.
I keep waiting for something or someone
to ignite me and save me from myself,
again and again.
Waiting for…
the right time,
when I can afford it,
a sign,
permission,
blah, blah, blah
and more blah.
I know it’s the insidious voice of my fears.
Yet I still wait.
Lovely.
And I get the sense
that I’ve waited too long
to do something about it
because I allowed myself to believe
that this is what I should want
and that it’s enough.
But now I’m left suppressing the urge
to scream from the top of my lungs
for anyone to hear,
PUT A FORK IN ME BECAUSE I’M SO DONE!
Done with settling, accommodating, avoiding, negotiating,
in vain, as I seek your approval
that you bestow upon me, at your whim,
in teeny weeny portions,
just enough to sustain the illusion
that everything’s okay.
But really, you just want to control me
and prove to yourself that you’re right,
because whatever I do,
or don’t,
it’s never enough anyway.
I put so much energy
into trying to please you
that I’m losing me,
and I’ve worked too hard,
experienced too much,
and come too far
to stay where I’m at.
OVER IT!
I get it now.
And the clearer I get,
the stronger I feel,
the bolder I act, and
the weaker your influence over me becomes.
I’m sorry if being myself
makes you so uncomfortable
that you need to put me down
to feel better about you.
But now, I’m the one
out of my comfort zone,
because a safety net,
is still a net,
restricting freedom.
What was once acceptable
now feels intolerable,
and from where I’m standing,
it doesn’t look too safe either.
So what do you do
when you come to realize
that your life,
the one you created,
doesn’t embody who you really are?
Ummm…I think I’m about to find out.
Part 2
The Soul…
remembering who we really are
My Wish for You
I wish you could see yourself
as I see you,
because if you recognized in yourself
what I know to be true,
all the loveliness that you are,
and that you share with others,
could finally be felt
by you,
giving yourself the gift
of love, acceptance, and peace
you’ve been yearning for
your whole life,
that’s not outside of you,
but within.
From the Silence
The sound of your soul
comes from the silence.
You need the quiet first,
to put aside
the noise and clutter
in your mind
to reach the voice of Truth,
because you hear more
than with your ears
and see more
than with your eyes.
The silence is
so gentle,
like a soft caress
against your cheeks,
so calm,
like a still body of water,
so expansive
like a clear, starry night sky.
The thoughts and feelings
that bubble up
from the silence
are your inner wisdom.
You get these knowings
from the stillness.
You may feel like
what you’re receiving
isn’t real.
Some may even say you’re crazy
or at best, have an overactive imagination,
so you dismiss what you’re sensing.
DON’T!
The messages from your soul
are telling you
who you truly are
and what you need to do
to experience your greatness.
They reflect your truth.
It’s from this truth
that you start connecting
who you are
with what you do.
The specifics
look different for everybody,
so you’ll recognize
your inspired actions
because they are things
that you love to do.
In fact, you are so passionate
about doing them
you don’t want to stop,
because they bring you such joy!
Learn to trust that voice.
Get good at being still
so you can hear
the whispers
meant for you
and only you…
from the silence.
A Beautiful View
I’m standing on the ledge,
a precarious existence.
Glancing down,
at my bare feet,
I see the tips of my toes,
peeking out,
off the end of the rocky, gravel edge,
the backdrop,
a dark, bottomless abyss,
void of any fear.
I stand with purpose,
feeling the subtle wind
dancing around my face,
and rushing through my hair,
the power of my Being,
quickly pulsing through my veins,
my skin tingling
from the exuberance
of needing to stay present and aware,
so I don’t fall off.
I feel the hot release of tears,
as I’m overcome by
the loveliness of it all.
How long can I stand here?
My footing becomes unstable,
at the thought of that,
my mind interfering again.
I look up and raise my arms up to the sky.
My whole body receives
comfort
from the warmth of the sun,
offering forgiveness
at my digression.
It’s all good, sweet and magical,
connected to something greater than me.
I stand on this ledge,
feeling limitless,
knowing what could be
and having no sense of what will come.
The ledge that I’ve unknowingly
been afraid of my whole life.
I finally stand,
feeling truly alive.
The Orange Candle
The flame reveals
that love provides
a ray of hope, courage, and comfort
to all who dare to love greatly.
The dripping wax
shows us
how soft and fluid love is.
The pool of warm wax
that takes shape
communicates that love is wordless.
The hardened wax
unveils how love can solidify
and transform.
The burned and hollowed out remains
reminds us that love isn’t concerned
with how we look on the outside.
Love sees beauty from the inside out.
Our senses experience
the change in the candle’s form,
disclosing the creative power
of how love changes us.
The candle has a higher purpose
as we all do,
and illuminates from its connection
to the One,
as everything does.
Love’s energy
is the source
of light and life.
Silent Prayer
Unpretentious skies of blue and gray
rising through the mist.
A new dawn,
where all my fears fade away,
like the fog lifting before my eyes.
I greet the sun
with hope and gratitude
for the love in my life.
I rejoice in my silent prayer
to you and all,
as we begin anew,
in each moment,
each challenge,
each chore,
in each other.
True Nature
She is very mysterious,
this One,
who knows all,
but doesn’t kiss and tell.
Gentle and soft-spoken,
all She requires is silence
to be heard.
Bigger than life,
and yet so careful with the details,
She shows her kindness
by offering what you need,
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