To be written….

Writing has alway been a huge part of my life. Its saved me at the darkest… and even at the last hour. It has been my escape, my refuge and my best friend too. Words alleviate the pain and continuously celebrate the happiness.

Throughout my blog you will find poetry…thoughts about life….celebrations and some devastations too….

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you.”

~ Maya Angelou ~

Featured post

Gratitude

For Saturdays like this….

Good coffee and conversation with you

My family, the vintage (because that sounds better) and the new

Our families together and apart

The new life we are building

Trips to Lowes and working in the yard twogether

Candles with oils, herbs and intentions burning in the kitchen

A full heart

Self-care, self-love and more healing

The people I work with and a job I love

Growth and change

Looking forward

Letting go

For a life well lived

Your power

My thoughts have been totally immersed in our individual power and what we give our attention to. I once knew someone who thought it was unusual that I could walk away from some so easily. If someone hurts you repeatedly, disrespects you, or just treats you like you are irrelevant, give yourself permission to walk away. That is the beginning to taking back your power.

I feel that if someone discounts you enough, hurts you, uses you…whatever you want to call it, it’s okay to cut ties with them. No matter the part they have played in your journey.

“The day I chose to stop speaking their name, was the day I took their power away and took mine back. The day I chose to not respond with anger, I found peace within”.

So I move forward, an occasional memory will come up, or something will trigger me but how I choose to react is just that, my choice. I can say it is not always the best way, but it is my way.

“And the day I chose to leave the past behind me was one of the healthiest and most relieving moments in my life. No more worries about being enough for anyone but myself. It’s not to say that leaving people behind isn’t painful, but sometimes its just the best thing for you.”

Those who truly know me, know that I hold painful emotions and memories in until something brings them to the surface and only then will I spill them….just enough to ease the discomfort my heart houses.

Recently I broke…I think, no, I know I house a lot of pain that I have not allowed to surface and it overflowed. Triggers pull those deep seeded emotions from some long ago corner I have shoved them into. I know that there have been times that I haven’t made good choices in my life, but I know I have never hurt anyone with intention and never will. I don’t regret my choices, they led me to here, but it is my choice if I choose to…

“I choose not relive times before now, times that weren’t so happy. I choose not to recall times before now too often and I refuse to speak names of those that made me feel any less.”

So my thoughts right now are be mindful of the words you speak to yourself and to others….be mindful of the people and memories you give your power to.

After all, it is your power ❤

Peace for your Saturday night….

She’s Just Not a Keeper

Shes just not a keeper

of old cards

and notes

Or of trinkets

from the past

She lets go

and tucks away

the memories from a long time ago place

With only little recognition of a face

Shes just not a keeper of

tears and lies

Of sad excuses and black eyes

Of what if’s and goodbyes

Old pictures and songs

Mean very little

When they no longer belong

She’s just not a keeper

Of anger and hatred

Or cruel intentions 

In fact she’s just not a keeper 

of honorable mentions 

Shes just not a keeper of inconsistency

Nor of others who hurt people willfully

Of those who don’t know how to be friends 

Or shallow people who cant make amends

And in the end

She’s just not a keeper of bad things at all

Maker

I used to be a maker…when I was healing and when I was happy.

I made a lot of things.

I have been craving that part of myself again.

I am happy

….finally.

and coming home

I touch parts of my life. I feel, deeply feel, love and life. I enjoy the simple things. I even allow dark parts to surface periodically. You cannot experience great gratitude and beauty in life if you cannot embrace the darkest parts of yourself and life as well.

I don’t run from things, other than my own feelings and ever present, deep running emotions and that is only periodic. I have to allow myself time to process and then decompress and come back to the situation head on, clear in thought. The past is the past and the only thing that is important is this moment.

Healing, forever healing, learning and growing. Accepting myself and others as we are. Even the ugly parts.

So a week ago I made intention candles for a few friends and for my life partner and I. They felt good. And that was the beginning. When I touched the candles and herbs they felt good in my hands and woke the part of me that has been hidden for some time.

Soon I will be home and there will be space for me to create. He supports that part of me because we are the same. He understands the call, the constant need to create.

When you give in and feel

from your soul

In the quiet moments

You allow it all to surface

and subside

And you stand in awe

of the canvas of your life.


Peace for your Sunday evening….

#waituntilyouseewhatwedo

Mornings like this

My first conscious thought is of you laying next to me. My senses come alive and my eyes adjust to the morning light. I cant recall my soul feeling such deep peace.

I make my way down the hall, check the time and find the most recent book you have given me. Man’s Search For Meaning. You just seem to know what I like and what will speak to me. Yesterday when I read through the prologue I found words that spoke to me.

“Frankl saw three possible sources for meaning: in work (doing something significant), in love (caring for another person), and in courage during difficult times. ~ Harold S. Kushner

I sink into my space and into my book, sometimes reading the words twice because it is so hard to imagine one human being treating another the way they did in the concentration camps.

I hear you move and I know that our morning has arrived. I try to contain my excitement that you are up and I have probably thought of a million things to tell you in the last hour. I make coffee and make my way to you. You and I both have things to do today but you find the moments I ask for and sink into our space with me. I put my head on your shoulder and listen to you speak. I can only see the bottom portion of your face. I watch your mouth move, notice your profile and think about how much I love you and how grateful I am for mornings like this.

We move through the morning. I shower and you move about the house completing the tasks you have set before you.

At the kitchen window I think about unconditional love and how I feel it now. I always thought it never existed. My thoughts….It’s you. It’s small moments and mornings like this that I am grateful for. They make me aware of how blessed I am to share this part of my life with you. I know that we are not perfect, but yet we are in our own way.

Its mornings like this when I know that I have everything I need.

Her voice

A long thin ring

and she answers

there is the voice she has heard

for as long as she can remember

and there is this day

She listens as she shares her day

sometimes

she shares it more than once

but thats how it is now

and she detects what some don’t

and the woman tells her

she feels like she belongs

nowhere

and she tells her she loves her

and understands

and they exchange a little more

and a little less

until she cant breathe

and they go

and she knows

she loves

the comfort of her voice

She listens…

She shifts in the chair

Careful not to draw attention to herself

Her eyes cast down

She listens

And inhales

They speak

She is quiet, as if she has nothing to say

But her mind runs wild through the valleys of what ifs and when

have and have nots

been there

and never wanting to be there again

The scene is repeated

again and again

She speaks on occasion

Hesitant

She is triggered

And fragile

And fierce

And resilient

She listens

And exhales

Suitcase Gypsy

I watch as she tucks the remnants of her life into a tattered suitcase
Pictures from long ago places and people that stepped beside her momentarily
Smiles in black and white that hide the hardships she has seen
Stitching in the interior that somehow holds her life together now
Sweet hands and sad eyes as she moves her treasures around from place to place
Touching the childhood
The dreams
The brokenness of her days
The love
That was always out of reach
Careful not to be in the way
Of the hustle of life
She moves forward
Never lingering long
Suitcase Gypsy
Searching
For the place she belongs

Something like that…

Like liquid smoke flowing through the air

Like a dim lit room and a gentleman with a drink

Like a clear, dark night full of stars

A perfect peach on a hot summer day

Laying under a large oak, on a blanket of plush green grass

Like the last sigh before the deepest sleep

Or five pillows on a bed dressed in white

A variation of music filling the air

Or the smell of rain

Or the look in your eyes when you look at me

Or the look in mine when I look back

Like the hours that pass until I see you again

Or perhaps its the way I fall in love with you daily

Yes, something Like that

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