Take the leap

Have you ever climbed up on a fence and sat there? Feeling like you want to make a move, like maybe there's something more or a better way but you're frozen, maybe by indecision or fear.

There's a voice in your heart whispering to you to take the leap, move on, try something new. You feel the pull. There is a yearning in your soul.

Yet you stay on the fence, not committing to one side or the other. Perhaps you survey your friends and your family members to hear their thoughts. You make list of the pros and cons. You dream about 'what if' in your bed late at night.

Yet you remain frozen. You are no longer fully invested in what is because your heart is contemplating what could be. But you can't make the leap into what could be because your rational mind is holding you back.

And so you ride the fence.

Some people spend years on the fence. Some people step off the fence into what is and turn their back on what could be.  Some people ignore the voice in their heart for so long it grows silent and they don't even remember why they climbed the fence in the first place.

I am on the fence. I hear the voice of Divine Inspiration in my head and I feel the pull in my heart. I know there is something I am meant to do.  I had this vision a year ago and let the reasoning of my advisers talk me out of it.  I trusted my loved ones more then I trusted the voice of God.

A year ago I didn't even climb the fence. I took a quick peak over into the unknown and then quickly backed away.

This time I'm riding the fence, doing the research, asking my family, making the lists.  But not making a choice. Not picking a side.

So here I sit on the top of the fence, one leg thrown over the top rail, looking back the way I've come.

The way ahead is unknown and uncertain, even a little scary. I wish I had a crystal ball so I could see into the future.  I wish I had more courage or faith that it would turn out the way I want it to.

Instead what I have is a deeply held conviction that there are no wrong paths, that each experience is worth it and that I have something valuable to learn regardless of how things turn out.

I know that I am safe, even as I take the leap into the unknown.

And so I jump...

Invisible Heartbreak - Poem

My soul weeps while my face smiles.

I die inside just a little more each day.

No one sees my heartache.

No one sees the seeping wounds.

Walking in loneliness and isolation.

I reach out but come up empty.

Hoping and praying for a change.

Wanting to believe in something more.

Doomed to disappointment.

Weeping silent tears in the night.

Living each day with invisible heartbreak.

Be Here. Be Open. Feel Joy.

Life is fragile and fleeting. Here today and gone tomorrow. You can pray and build and dream and it can all be snatched away by a careless word, an impulsive act or random chance. 

So why do we bother to pray and build and dream? Why do we look to the future with hope in our hearts? Why do we try so hard to believe that a better day will come?

In reality, today, this moment is all we've got. We waste the now with our petty jealousy's and our if only's. We pretend that the now doesn't matter because tomorrow will be better.

Most of the time we aren't even in the now. We get stuck in the past, consumed by the shoulda, woulda, coulda. Or we dream about the future, the might be someday.

We spend our time rushing between the two, past and future, back and forth. Yet never pause to appreciate what we've created, what we have right now. Homes and jobs, cars and food.  Love most of all. Any one of those beautiful blessings can be snatched away in the blink of an eye. They need to be cherished and appreciated.

Especially love. Love is fragile and fleeting. Here today and gone tomorrow. You can pray and build and dream and it can all be snatched away by a careless word, an impulsive act or random chance. It can takes years of work to build a relationship and it too can disappear in the blink of an eye.

So why do we love? Why do we try so hard to connect with people when so often it ends in heartbreak? What makes those fleeting moments of joy worth all the pain and confusion, the longing and loneliness?

I think perhaps, because in those moments when we love truly, we are fully present.  We aren't lost in the past or dreaming about the future, but right here, right now, experiencing something beautiful and wonderful. 

Love reminds us to be here, to be open, to feel joy. Love that is deep and true, whether it lasts for a moment or forever, brings us back to our true selves. In those moments of love we come into our bodies and feel deeply.

But we forget, we cease to be present with our love and so love gets eaten up by the mundane and the hurtful, the misunderstandings and the confusions. Until we are once again stuck bouncing between the memories of the past and the hope for the future.

Disconnected, adrift, longing for something that will bring us back to love. Back to the present. And so we search for love, desperately hoping it will fill a void in us that we can't name. 

The answer is easy. Stop running, stop searching, stop hoping and dreaming and building and praying. Be here, right now, in the present moment and you will find something more precious then anything you could ever build, more precious than you could ever hope for, the greatest gift that you have ever prayed for. 

You will find yourself. 

 

Do It Anyway

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered.

Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind,

people may accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.

Be kind anyway.

If you are successful,

you will win some false friends and some true enemies.

Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank,

people may cheat you.

Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building,

someone could destroy overnight.

Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness,

they may be jealous.

Be happy anyway.

The good you do today,

people will often forget tomorrow.

Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have,

and it may never be enough.

Give the best you've got anyway.

You see,

in the final analysis it is between you and God; 

it was never between you and them anyway.

I try hard to be kind and supportive. I try to be encouraging and helpful. I try to be patient and understanding.

I try.

And sometimes for all the good I try to do, I get kicked in the teeth. People will spit in  your eye no matter how kind and helpful and supportive you might be. I've seen it. I've felt it.

When that happens I try to not judge and not take it personally. Every one of us has stuff.  Not one of us is perfect. 

But sometimes it makes me mad. Sometimes there is this instant reaction. "Well f*** you then! I don't need this shit. You know there are people out there that would appreciate me. I'll just walk away, throw in the towel, give up. Idiots! Can't see a good thing if it bit them in the ass!"

But eventually I begin to calm down. My feelings may still be a little hurt but I start thinking about those words written on the wall of Mother Teresa's hut in Calcutta.

I'm no saint but I try.

It was the day my father died that I realized how isolated we are and blind to those that surrounds us.

That morning I sat in a hospital room and held his hand. That afternoon I held my children as I told them that Grandpa was gone. That evening I walked through the store to buy a birthday cake.

I was in the midst of a sea of humanity, bumping and rushing around me. My grief was mine alone. No one could see my broken heart. All they could see was the dinner time rush.

That was the moment that I realized,  just as they couldn't see me, I couldn't see them. I had no idea of the stories, the emotions, the troubles. I had no idea why they might do the things they do.

Everyone of us is the star of our own play. All those people that walk in and out of our lives are just supporting actors. We cast them in roles and get upset when they don't behave the way we expect them to. But to them, we are sidekicks, we are disposable, we are the supporting characters that aren't following the script.

So I try. I try to be patient. I try to see the bigger picture. I try to let people play their own parts and give up my expectations.

Some days I am self-centered, illogical and unreasonable. Some days I am unkind. Some days I don't feel like trying anymore.  Some days the jealousy and the cheating, the lies and the destruction wear me down and I don't feel like giving my best anymore.

Sometimes my kind heart and forgiving nature are beaten down until I have nothing left to give.

But I remember those words and I Do It Anyway.

Because in the end whether I do good or I don't, whether I forgive or hold onto anger, whether I succeed or I fail, not one of Them ever really saw Me anyway. 

Midnight Lover

You came to me in the deepest dark of the night.

You smiled down at me.

My eyes lit up with joy when I saw you.

You threw an arm over my shoulders. 

I wrapped my arms around your waist. 

We walked down the side of the street, entwined.

I looked up at you with my heart in my eyes.

You rested your cheek against the top of my head.

I loved you that night.

You loved me back.

For a few hours you were my best friend and I was yours.

Then I felt a tug and you started to drift away from me.

I reached for you but you pulled away.

In just a few moments you were gone. 

I was left with only the memory of our love.

I opened my eyes to the the sunrise.

Alone.

Diving Deep

"How are you?" we ask with a smile as we hurry past someone.

"Good, how are you?" they reply. But we're already gone on our way. 

Fine, good, things are great.  We brush the surface like a bug skating on the top of the water.  Here and then gone, too quick to even leave a ripple. I think if we stopped and shared how we really feel, at that moment, the polite inquirer would be appalled. They didn't really care. They didn't really want to hear it. 

So we put on a mask when we go out. We smile and pretend. Sometimes we pretend so well that we forget that it's all an act. We lose touch with the depths of our soul. Our dreams fade. Our fears remain unspoken. Very rarely do we take off the masks, peel back the layers and share what lies deep beneath the surface. Even with those we love and share our lives with, we make light of our pain or we down play our joy. We strive so hard to hide our vulnerability.  

Certain things are taboo. Words like "I hurt." "I'm sad." "I'm scared." "I'm lonely." But just as unacceptable are words like "I'm awesome." or "I did it." 

So we tuck our feelings down deep and instead of sharing and connecting with people we feel everything in isolation.  We don't trust anyone with our secrets. Too often those secrets are the truth of who we are and how we feel and our truth gets lost.

Our truth gets lost as we work and play, gossip and chat. We listen to music, watch TV and troll the internet. We make up stories then tell them to ourselves and others. 

We put on masks and deny our true selves.  

Then we wonder why we are so lonely. We wonder why we are anxious and afraid.  We wonder why no one loves us. But not once do we ever take off the mask and share our true self with anyone.  Instead we wait and hope that someone, anyone else will go first. 

That is why I write, because here, in my blog, there are no masks, there is no pretending.  Exposing the depths of my soul is hard and it's scary. There are times when I don't want to publish. But I know I am not alone in my joys and my sorrow, my dreams and my fears. I know that if I deny my authentic self a little part of me dies. 

This blog is about diving deep. It is about sharing my truth. It is about living authentically. My hope is that my courage, my honesty will inspire you to find and live your truth, to speak honestly. Everyone has a story to tell. Tell me yours because I want to know you. I want to see the real you, your fears and your sorrows,  your hopes and your dreams. 

I want the opportunity to know you and love you, in all your wonderful layers.

Quacker Jack

A year ago my dog died. He followed a boy into the kitchen, twitched and fell down dead. There was nothing we could do. It wasn't our fault. He just died.  His name was Quacker Jack and he was 6 years old.

I wasn't there when it happened. I got the call while I was having lunch with a friend. I pretended that I was okay but I wasnt. I cried the whole way home. "Not my Jack."

I got home to find him lying in a puddle of his own urine on my kitchen floor. I laid down beside him and sobbed. I hugged him and petted him, crying and keening, "Not my Jack."

Eventually I picked him up and carried him to the car. I held him on my lap all the way to the vets. They asked if I was ready to let him go. "No, never, not my Jack." We paid crazy amounts of money so I could have his ashes back. And then I drove away with empty arms and a broken heart, to a silent house.

Eating toast for breakfast was impossible without my best friend to sit beside me and eat the crusts. I couldn't go for a walk without him to walk with. Surrounded with people I was so desperately lonely.

I immediately got a new dog. A girl dog, a black dog. But she wasn't my dog and I didn't like her. She was a good dog,  but she wasn't my dog. She knew it too. I didn't share my toast with her. I just stopped eating toast. I didn't take her for walks, I just stayed home. She didn't crawl under my bed during storms. She didn't sleep with my boy. She didn't fit because she wasn't my Jack.

Last week I sent her away. She deserves a family that loves her and that will never be me because she isn't Jack. I cried when she left not because I miss her, but because she wasn't Jack and I miss my dog so much.

It's been a year. Today I took a little wooden box out of a cardboard box and put it on the shelf. Today I unplugged the invisible fence. Today I cried. My house is empty without a dog. But not just any dog will do.

Love comes in all different shapes and sizes as does grief. I thought I could just put a new dog in my house and go on like it never happened. I know that I have been depressed this past year. I couldn't find joy in anything. My life was gray. I didn't realize how bad it was. I really don't know how to heal from this but pretending that everything is okay isn't working. So today I am sitting with grief.  Today I am remembering.

Someday there will be another dog that I fall in love with but there will never be another Quacker Jack.

Coming Out of the Closet

I feel more than I want to feel. I see more than I want to see. This is my super power and also my curse.

I am an Empath, a highly sensitive person. I do not feel blessed by this. In fact when I wrote about facing my demons, this is what I was talking about.

I didn't know anything about being an empath. I thought everyone could feel what other people feel. I thought everyone could see beyond the surface of why people do what they do.  I thought everyone could read other people's body language. Can't they?

Apparently not.

I thought there was something wrong with me. I cry all the time, books and movies of course but also when I hear people's stories or see someone's pain or their joy.

I can't watch "bad" TV - it makes me sick to my stomach.  The news disturbs me so I don't watch it or listen to it on the radio. I never read the newspaper.

I make decisions about people because they shine or because they just feel bad. Try explaining that to people.

Even worse, I remember people.  Not just from this life time but from previous ones. I know who I've known before.  It hurts sometimes when other people don't recognize me back. Contrarily, it scares me when they do.

I'm learning to accept all of these strange and wonderful things about myself. But I still struggle everyday. I feel too much. I don't mind sharing your joy or your sorrows.

My problem is your anger. It comes off you in waves. It abrades me, rubbing me raw. It makes me sick to my stomach and makes me cry. No matter how much I love you it hurts me.

I want to be a turtle and hide in my shell. I stop talking and laughing.  Every nerve ending is jangling in pain.

The longer I spend with you the worse it gets.

I don't know how to protect myself so I shut off and tune out. I reject people.  Some people say I'm shy, some say I'm a snob. No, I'm just in pain with no way out.

I'm making friends with this demon that lives inside me. It's not so bad. I understand me so much better now. Because I understand, I can allow myself to cry, to turn off the tv, to avoid those people that hurt me.

Finally, I'm coming out of the closet. This is me and I'm okay just the way I am.

Acceptable Sins

I may drink coffee but at least I don't smoke.

I smoke but at least it isn't pot.

Hey I smoke pot but at least I'm not a crack addict.

I know I'm a crack addict but at least I've never had a crack baby.

We rationalize our sins, constantly judging and comparing so we can elevate ourselves above others.

I lose my temper but at least I don't kick the dog.

I kick the dog when I'm mad but I've never beat my kids.

I smack my kids around sometimes but I'm not some sicko pedophile.

I diddle little kids but I've never killed anyone.

Yea, I killed that guy but at least I didn't lie about it.

As humans we qualify and quantify and label everything.  Our ego plays this constant game of judging and comparing.

I did this myself lately.

I may be addicted to sugar but at least I'm not addicted to alcohol.

This is me telling myself I'm better than someone else. Am I a better person than you because my addiction is sugar and yours is caffeine, or cigarettes or beer or weed? Am I a better person than you because my house isn't as messy or because I'm thinner or because I don't sleep around? Am I a better person because I have yet to be put in a situation where I found it necessary to kill someone?

Every single one of us is doing the best we can with what we've got.

If I had the life experiences and personality you do, I'd make the same choices and have the same addictions.

But really, what we're talking about is judgement. No matter how low we sink we find it necessary to elevate ourselves higher than someone else. It is what we do. Every single one of us.

This is really hard for me to wrap my mind around. I have to be a better person than a rapist, a pedophile, a murderer, an addict, a homeless person, a liar, a thief, a gambler, a prostitute and you. Aren't I?

This is the common delusion we all share. Some of us are better than others. Some of us are more worthy than others.  It isn't true. We are all exactly the same divine beings under our wounds and our pains and our human frailties.

By believing we are better than, we can sit in judgement on others. We can withdraw our love and compassion and turn our backs on those who are less than. This is really what we are doing and perhaps it is the greatest of all sins.

I do not suggest we condone the actions of ourselves or others, but rather look beyond those actions to see the soul within each of us and the fear that makes us act in these ways. We can extend compassion, kindness, loving and peaceful thoughts to all, regardless of what external choices and behaviors we witness.

I challenge you, next time the thought crosses your mind that you are better than someone else because at least you didn't do THAT, take a moment to recognize your judgement and instead offer compassion.

The Monkey on my Back

There is a monkey on my back and his name is Should.

He sits with me constantly, and has a monologue going all day long.

You should do the laundry.

You should clean the house.

You should think about what's for dinner.

You should pay the bills.

You should eat more vegetables. 

You should exercise more.

You should lose weight.

You should walk the dog.

You should read the kids a bedtime story.

You should turn off the tv.

For variety Should adds a not now and then.

You shouldn't eat that ice cream.

You shouldn't drive so fast.

You shouldn't say that just cause you're mad.

With every should he utters he gets heavier and heavier for me to carry.  My shoulders hunch. My head bows.

Should makes me feel like a failure. Should drags me down.

But there is a spark of rebellion inside me. It is called resistance and it says I don't have to listen to Should. I can do what I want, when I want.

So when Should tells me to pay the bills, I go shopping for a new pair of shoes. And when Should tells me to eat more vegetables I pick up another cookie. When Should tells me to turn off the TV, I pick up the remote and turn it up a little louder to drown him out.

Resistance to Should is an every day battle and it's exhausting.  It drains my energy. I spend so much time battling the Should that I don't have time for fun things. And because I resist Should with all my might it takes forever to get anything done.

I'm contemplating sending Should off to the zoo and inviting his brother Could to come and live with me instead.

It's a novel idea.

I could fold the laundry or I could read a book.

I could think about what's for supper or I could feed the kids cereal for dinner again.

I could read the kids a bedtime story or we could all watch Family Feud together.

Hmmm... with Could I feel all the rebellion and resistance drain out of me. There is no battle to fight.

I feel so much more peaceful living with Could.

I think Should needs to stay at the zoo. I'm enjoying Could much more.

Letters to My Lover - I Choose You

Relationships are the the most challenging part of our lives. They stretch us in ways that are difficult and uncomfortable. They also give all kinds of opportunities for growth. Over the last few years I've written a number of letters to my lover as we've progressed through the stages of our relationship. This is the last one (for now). 





We both agreed it was over even though neither of us said a word. The endless fights, the hurt feelings, the loneliness, was all too much.

In our minds we were thinking of ways to get out and what that would look like.


Just the idea was a relief. We don't have to live like this forever.

But then something changed. You chose me. You could have walked away but you chose me. You said you still loved me.

I chose you too.

Since then, every day we have made a choice. In the morning when we wake up we choose again. At night when we fall asleep beside each other, it's another choice.


Every time we stop what we are doing to share a hug or a kiss, every time we turn our attention to what the other has to say, every time we offer support and encouragement, what we are really saying is I choose you.

It isn't always easy. Some days we're too tired. Some days you work long hours. Some days we don't feel well. Some days I'm just plain grumpy. On those days it can be hard to be kind, loving, patient, supportive. Those are the days when it's most important.

Some days I have nothing more to give so you give a little extra. Some days you have nothing left for me, so I give a little extra.

That is love.


 Each day we make the choice to love each other with our words and our actions.

No matter what. Even when I hurt you or you hurt me, even when we fight, I choose you again and again.

Every day, in every way, I choose you.

Letters to My Lover - My Deepest Fear

Relationships are the the most challenging part of our lives. They stretch us in ways that are difficult and uncomfortable. They also give all kinds of opportunities for growth. Over the last few years I've written a number of letters to my lover as we've progressed through the stages of our relationship. This is the fourth one. 



I wonder if today will be the day. Will today be the day that the last straw hits the camel's back?

I figure someday you're going to realize that I'm not worth it. Someday you're going to get tired of cleaning up after me, spending your money on me. Someday you're going to figure out that I'm not the smart, beautiful, amazing woman you think you know.

Will today be the day?

I try to be super woman but I always come up short, at least in my own mind.

I spent all day baking and you came home after a long day of work and cleaned the kitchen.

I left my socks on the floor again. I do that a lot.

My kids were super obnoxious today, whining, arguing and hard to get along with.

My dog won't stop barking.

I came home with two new kittens I found on the side of the road.

Sometimes it's feels like a test... do you love me enough to clean up after me just one more time? Then you fall asleep with me tucked close in your arms and I'm left awake breathing a sigh of relief. Your love was enough to make it though one more day.

Did you know when you choose me that I was broken?  Did you know that I was scared and insecure all the time? Did you know that you would have to constantly reassure me?

Once a long time ago you were there for me when I needed a friend. Now I need you every day. I need your jokes and your smiles and your hugs.  I need your patience and your reassurance and your love.

Someday I hope that my fears will ease and I will know that I am enough just as I am. Someday I hope that my faith in you will be so strong that I won't need constant reassurance.

Someday I hope to believe in a love so strong, so unshakable, so unconditional that I will have no more fear.

Until that day, tell me again that you love me. Tell me again that you choose me.

Letters to My Lover - Feeling Loved

Relationships are the the most challenging part of our lives. They stretch us in ways that are difficult and uncomfortable. They also give all kinds of opportunities for growth. Over the last few years I've written a number of letters to my lover as we've progressed through the stages of our relationship. This is the third one. 


Love shows up in so many ways. What makes us feel loved and treasured is different for each of us. It is so important that we find the way to show our love in a way that others end up feeling truly loved.

Many years ago, in counselling, I was told to write a list.

I feel like you love me when....

And then fill in the blanks.

I wrote one and you wrote one and then we swapped.

I feel like you love me when you take out the trash.

I feel like you love me when you eat the cake I made and eat around the burned parts.

I feel like you love me when you hold my hand.


We've been together a while now and what makes us feel loved has changed as our situation has changed.

My new list goes something like this;

I know that you love me when...

You stop work early on a Saturday to come home and take out the trash.

You turn on my side of the electric blanket before you fall asleep.

You get up at 4 am to go to work and when you kiss my sleeping head on your way out the door.

You make sure I have popcorn money before a soccer game.

You text me in the morning and tell me to have a good day.

You let my mom, sister, cousin, friend, come from Canada and stay for weeks. (Not all at the same time)

You don't mind when I eat your last cookie.

What I've learned is that it doesn't matter how often you do or do not say those three little words. What matters is how you show me. What matters is the little things you do every day. What matters is that you make the time for me.

Love is a verb. It is an action word. Your actions speak of your love in a thousand different ways.

I feel like you love me.

I know that you love me.

I am loved.

Letters to My Lover - I Need You

Relationships are the the most challenging part of our lives. They stretch us in ways that are difficult and uncomfortable. They also give all kinds of opportunities for growth. Over the last few years I've written a number of letters to my lover as we've progressed through the stages of our relationship. This is the second one. 


I need you.  I need this thing we share.

I don't need you to pay the bills or take out the trash. I don't need you to bring me flowers or take me out to dinner. I don't need you to laugh with me and make love to me.

All of those things are wonderful and I'm glad we are together to share the everydayness of all the little things. But I know that I could do it on my own. And I know that there are many that could step into those shoes if I went looking.

No, it's you that I need. You, pointing out my wounds, bringing my attention to the hidden scrapes and bruises. You, who infuriate me and makes me cry.

I'm past getting angry with you. Mostly.

I used to think I was whole and healthy. I used to think it was your fault for not loving me right, not communicating right.

Now I am grateful that you shows me these parts of my self that are slowly leaking poison into my mind and then overflowing into the rest of my life. If you hadn't said just the right thing I never would have known that that cesspool was there waiting to suck me in, suck me down.  There, I'm left floundering in my fears and negativity.

But this small part of me recognizes that you did nothing wrong, recognizes that I am not being reasonable, recognizes that this isn't truth.

I used to stay mired in the muck for days, crying, not talking to you, stewing in my mad. Now it's only moments before I can see clearly again. In those moments I sink into my own poisonous thoughts, I rage and I cry. I say terrible things about you in my mind. While there is a part of me watching and quietly smiling at the tantrums of a child.

No, it's isn't you. It is me. If you didn't show me my wounds I'd walk around every day thinking that I was whole and healed and enlightened. Instead I know that I am human and broken and no better than any one else.

But I am aware and I am healing.

I need you, not for your kisses, but for the wounds you inflect.

I need you, not to take out the trash but to show me where the poison has piled up in my thoughts.

I need you, not to make love to me, but to keep loving me when I am broken.

Because of you I see me more clearly.

Because of you I can look at those broken parts and see where I need healing.

Because of you I am a better me.

And so I need you.

Letters to My Lover - Giving Up

Relationships are the the most challenging part of our lives. They stretch us in ways that are difficult and uncomfortable. They also give all kinds of opportunities for growth. Over the last few years I've written a number of letters to my lover as we've progressed through the stages of our relationship. This is the first one. 



I remember the day we met. You were busy on the job and you ignored me. I walked away thinking 'What a jerk!'

But then months later I met you again. You were kind and sweet and funny. I found myself making up reasons to see you, to call you. You took off your sunglasses and I loved your beautiful blue eyes. I watched you with my children and admired your patience. I started to trust you with my secrets.

I remember sitting side by side on the stairs. I'll never forget that day, the moment, when you leaned over and kissed me. I knew you were nervous, unsure of how I would react. I kissed you back and so began the slow slide into love.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, months turned into years and here we are today. The song plays in my mind over and over again. "Say something I'm giving up on you. I'll be the one if you want me to. Anywhere I would have followed you. Say something I'm giving up on you." And the tears leak slowly out of my eyes and down my cheeks.

I reach for you over and over but can't quite touch you. I talk to you, I tell you I'm lonely. I tell you I need you. I ask you to turn off the TV and listen to me, look at me, touch me, make love to me. But you can't hear me.

Days go by as the gap between us widens. Until here we are in our bed, sleeping side by side, with the Grand Canyon between us.

We fight over little things, stupid things. I ask you what's wrong and you say nothing, then you turn up the TV a little louder. You kiss my forehead every day before you leave for work but I can't remember the last time you kissed me.

I remember the beginning so clearly, the passion, the excitement, the fun and I can't understand how we ended up here. I don't know what happened or when we lost touch with each other. I don't know how to reach you.

I'm witnessing the slow starvation of love. I'm not ready to leave you yet but I know I can't live like this. Every day, feeling invisible, ignored, alone.

Say something. I'm giving up on you.

Love Them Anyways

People are cruel. They are angry and bitter. They say and do hurtful things.  They are prejudiced. People are irritating and annoying. They are obnoxious, selfish and rude.

How do you do love them anyway?

So often it would be easier to shut people out, to close the doors of your heart against people and lock yourself safely inside.

That doesn't help you or them.

It's easier to do good for strangers, serve lunch at a soup kitchen, send money to the victims of an earthquake, foster a starving child in Africa.

Those are all kind and worthy actions. How much harder is it to volunteer in your child's school or to be kind to your own annoying neighbor?

How much harder is it to be patient with your obnoxious in laws, to forgive your ass of an ex husband?

Is it even possible to be polite and loving to your own parents when they tell you that you're doing it wrong or when they say I told you so?

This is where I struggle. Metta meditation is about extending love and peace first towards yourself and then towards those you love and then towards others and finally towards those whom you struggle with.

For me it is much easier to extend love and warm wishes towards the strangers of the world then the people I love. It is in the every day nitty gritty of living with people that they become unlovable. It is here that we see their wounds And where they touch our wounds.

I know I am a good, kind, loving, forgiving person. I know this, deep down, without a doubt, know. Yet the second someone says or does something mean to my child I turn into a raving lunatic prepared to drive a stake through their heart. I question their morals, and their wisdom and find them lacking.

I look at the games people play, at the drama and the lies. I watch the wounds they wallow in, like a pig in the mud, as if it is fun to be there and I judge them for their choices.

I know they are doing the best they can. I get that. But I shake my head and walk away. And I wonder how can I possibly extend love and patience and sympathy and encouragement when I really want to just smack them upside the head or shake some sense into them.

I bite my tongue. I complain in private to my family then I take a step back and laugh at myself for getting so worked up.

Perhaps the thing to remember is that I am just as human as they are. I am no better, no worse. I am at a different place right now, learning different things.

These people challenge me. They expand my comfort zone. They are showing me where I have work to do. Instead of closing my heart, I need to open it wider. Instead of finding these people lacking I need to look at where I am lacking and what I need to learn from them.

I have walked away from a lot of toxic people and relationships in my life. Sometimes that is possible. But not always. Sometimes you need to sit in the toxic swamps of life, breathe in the filth and stench of toxic air and toxic emotions and toxic conversations.

Sometimes it is only by breathing in the poison that you can see your wounds and find ways to heal them. It is here that you can find your strength, create your boundaries and learn your lessons.

You are here for a reason.  Exactly where you need to be to learn what you need to learn. Embrace it. And embrace those who have entered into this world with you to teach you those lessons.

I know it's hard but love them anyway.

My Wish for You

I see beauty all around me. I watch a bird dart between cars in a parking lot. I see a couple holding hands.  I hear a baby laugh. The play of light between the leaves of the tree. The sound of the waves at the ocean hitting the shore. The smell of something baking. A rainbow, a flower, a kitten.

Each time I smile and I think of you. Each time I want to turn to you and see if you notice it too. I store these little bits and pieces of beauty in my mind so I can tell you about them later. But you aren't there and I don't tell you.

While you're far away from me I hope that you find your own moments of beauty. I hope you pause and think of me when you see a sunset.

I hope you laugh with the sheer joy of being alive.

I hope you eat chocolate and savor every bite.

I hope you sit quietly with your morning cup of coffee and enjoy the silence.

I hope you hug your mother and breathe in the scents of your childhood.

Life is short. You are here to live fully, to enjoy your every experience. There is more to life than work and chores. There is fun and games. There is silence and there is bustle. There is hurry and there is pause. There is argue and there is laughter. There are tears of sorrow and of joy.

I hope you enjoy them all.

Every moment in life is a gift to you. Explore them all. It is for you to decide if you want more or less of those kinds of moments. Cherish them, each one of them, for they all offer you something valuable.

I hope you dance with a beautiful woman in your arms.

I hope you eat steak and drink a beer or two on a Saturday night.

I hope you watch a football game and leap out of your chair when your team scores.

I hope you weep at the sad parts of a movie.

I hope you swear at the guy that cuts you off on your drive to work.

Most of all, I hope you live. Live now, every moment of every day. Feel every emotion that life has to offer you. Be angry, be scared, be happy, be insecure. Feel love and feel the fear that goes along with it. Play in the rain. Sleep in now and then. Argue loudly. Cry passionately. Love wildly.

Whatever you choose to do, do it with all you are, and then move on with no regrets.

The Different Faces of Love ~Poem

The baby cries.

I rock her and sing a lullaby. 

I'd be happy to sit here forever, holding her. 

But she grows too fast. 

Soon she walks and then runs on her way without me. 

My boy laughs. 

I watch him from across the dinner table. 

I'd be happy to sit here forever, listening to his stories. 

But he moves too fast. 

Soon he heads back to college and all I hear is silence.

My guy tells me about his day. 

I sit on the steps pressed thigh to thigh.

I'd be happy to sit here forever, leaning against his shoulder. 

But life moves too fast.

Soon he is off to do chores and so am I. 

My daddy lies in a hospital bed.

The lights are dim and the room is quiet. 

I'd be happy to sit here forever, holding his hand. 

But time moves too fast. 

Soon his breath slips away and I am left to grieve. 

My mind is full

Of the different faces of love. 

I'd be happy to sit here forever, holding them in my heart.
But memories move too fast.

Remembering the First Man I Ever Loved

Today I will bake a cake and I will eat cake. Then I will take a piece of cake, set it on fire and take the ashes of the cake down to the river. Standing beside the river silently, I will say a little prayer and throw cake ashes into the water.

I do this every year on May 17. It is a birthday party for the first man I ever loved.

Once, a long time ago, this man took me into his arms and held me close. I listened to his heart beat and I loved him.

Not once did I ever doubt his love for me.

He listened to me. He held me when I cried. He taught me to make pancakes and donuts. He bought me cinnamon buns. I brought him coffee.

For years I would call him with my questions. How do you...? What do you think about...? Do you know a 7 letter word that means...? He always had an answer. If he didn't know it, he made it up.

And he always had a story. The scars on his arm came from a lion when he was in Africa. He stayed with the Wazari tribe. It was their custom for you to earn your manhood by facing a lion with the spear and shield you had made yourself. He took his spear and his shield. He banged the spear against the shield until he had the lion's attention. It leaped and he didn't quite get his shield up in time. Although his spear was up and the lion was impaled, it had enough strength to claw his arm and leave those scars before it died.

I know he never fought a lion in Africa, just like I know that there isn't a little man hiding in the coffee machine taking your order and pouring your coffee. But I hung on his every word. I thought he knew everything and he was the smartest strongest man in the world.



He was my daddy.

He taught me about unconditional love.

He taught me about respect and integrity.

He taught me that there is a time and place for everything.

He taught me the value of hard work.

He taught me about patience.

He was my everything and then he died.





Today I will make cake and I will eat cake.

Today I will cremate cake and throw the ashes in the river.

Every day I will miss him.

Every day I will think of him.

Forever I will love him.

Keep Going

"If you hear the dogs, keep going. 

If you see the torches in the woods, keep going. 

If there's shouting after you, keep going. 

Don't ever stop. Keep going. 

If you want a taste of freedom, keep going."

~ Harriet Tubman

I saw this quote from Harriet Tubman and it spoke to me. So often we feel something pulling at our heart, something that calls to us and makes us yearn for more. There must be more to life than this so we set our feet upon a path, with hope and determination. 

We set out with a dream, a hope, a plan. We have the best of intentions. Yet, a little at a time we lose our impetuous. We get sidetracked. We lose steam. 

We hear the dogs, the nagging voices in our head that say we aren't good enough, strong enough, smart enough. The barking of the dogs drowns out the dream.  We tell ourselves that it's okay to fail.

We see the torches in the woods, all the various distractions that pull at our focus. There is work and kids, chores to be done. We volunteer our time, cook and clean and do laundry. We turn on the tv, pick up a book, scroll through the Facebook news feed. Instead of keeping our eye on the prize we look away and slowly we lose hope.

And then the shouting after you - if you can manage to stay the course the shouting starts. You had a dream, you set a goal, you made a plan. But not everyone is on board with that plan. There are others that try to pull you back, keep things the same.  Don't rock the boat. It's safer, easier this way. The more you change the more you make those around you uncomfortable. Slowly the plan crumbles.

I can't imagine the courage it took the slaves to flee to safety. They stepped out into the unknown. They trusted that the right people would be there to help them at exactly the right time. I'm sure many of them didn't make it.

But the stakes were high. Failing meant being beaten, branded or even killed. I'm sure some slaves decided that it was safer to maintain the status quo. Just as many of us hear the call and decide that it is safer and easier to let sleeping dogs lie.

Would you turn you back on your dreams if it meant death? Would you let you hopes fade if to fail meant to be branded for life?  Do you have the courage and the strength to push past all the obstacles? Will you return in shame? Or will you keep going?

And if you fail will you keep that hope burning in your heart so you can try again and again?

Every day we all face fear and insecurity. Every day there are setbacks. Over and over we fall and we fail, we hurt and we cry. Then we get back up.

For those who set out on the path, for those who keep going, for those who persevere the rewards are great. So as Harriet Tubman said "Keep going. If you want a taste of freedom, keep going."

When the road is long and rough, keep going. 

When it's dark and you're scared, keep going. 

When people you love reach for you to hold you back, shrug off their hands and keep going. 

The only thing that can keep you from your truth is you. Keep going. 

You got this. 

The Greatest Gift

I called my sister the other day. I had a bee in my bonnet so I climbed up on my soapbox. I ranted and raved. Gesticulating wildly with spittle flying from my lips as I carried on like a maniac.

As I paused to take a breath she quietly said "I agree with you. I think so too." And just that quickly she took the wind out of my sails. I had no where left to go. 

That is the power of my sister and a lifelong connection. 

Forty years ago my sister was told that it was her job to take care of her new baby sister. She has done so ever since. 

We shared a bedroom. We shared clothes. We shared friends.

This is the girl that walked me home from school with a bloody nose after I fell on the ice.

The same girl who held me when I cried after a boy broke my heart. And who teased me about having a flat chest and a bubble butt. 

This is the girl who used to sing to me late at night in the backseat of the car while my head rested in her lap. 

She dragged me, as I whined, all the way through high school math. I couldn't have done it without her. 

We went on double dates together. 

She taught me how to drive. 

She called me a dork and smacked the heel of her hand into the middle of my forehead too many times to count. 

She pulled my curls. 

We grew up, we got married, we had babies, we moved away. 

We've spent hundreds of hours on the phone together since. 

Sometimes she irritates me. But most of the time she comforts me. She understands exactly what it was like to grow up with my parents, in my home, in my town. 

She thinks the way I think. I can say things to her that I would never say to anyone else - ever. And she never gets offended. 

I know that I can call her for any reason, at any time and she'll be there for me. 

She is my sister. Our lives are forever intertwined. There is no one like her, no one that could ever take her place. 

So often, when we are children, we don't appreciate the gift of a sibling. We fight. We get our feelings hurt. We compete. Yet, for me, my sister is the greatest gift my parents ever gave me and I am grateful. 

The Girl on the Playground

Every day I look forward to seeing her. What will she be wearing today? This bold little thing, mixing her colors, her stripes and prints, her leggings and boots. Her hair is cropped short and swings easily as she turns her head.  A smile, a laugh, a quick word to her friends.

I watch for her, on the way in to school in the morning, on the way out at the end of the day. Catching a glimpse of her puts a smile on my face and makes my day.

After school I sit at the picnic table on the playground watching my children, talking to the other mothers, I wait for her. I hear her voice. I watch her surreptitiously sneaking a peek out of the corner of my eye. She heads straight for the swings most days. It doesn't matter what her friends choose to do. Once there she sets herself flying, leaning back, legs and arms outstretched, ever higher. And she sings, out loud, boldly. Her sweet clear voice threaded among the playground sounds of children's voices and laughter.  Someone says to me "She's really come into her own this year." and I have to agree.

I don't know this girl beyond her name and her face. What makes her happy or sad, who are her friends, how she's doing in school. I don't know her story or her family. But I know she embodies the girl I wish I could have been.

I was broken, shy, scared all the time. I had no confidence. I wasn't comfortable in my own skin. I hated the fuzzy mop of curls on my head. I never would have sung out loud while I reached for the sky. I didn't know what to wear and worried about what people would think. I was the girl walking by myself with my shoulders hunched and my head down.

Perhaps the girl on the playground agonizes at home while she puts on those incredible outfits. Perhaps she despairs of doing anything with her straight hair and so cut it all off. Perhaps she has days when she is lonely and her mother doesn't understand her and her friends are mean.

Perhaps.

But I'd rather think that the girl on the playground has found her magic. That she believes in herself and that she sings out loud, proudly, for all of those other girls who have gone before and are yet to come, who have lost their confidence and their voice.

Soon the girl on the playground will move on to high school and I won't  see her anymore. I hope, as she's swallowed up in the masses of other teenagers that she keeps her smile, her confidence, her voice. I hope she always remembers what it feels like to fly. I hope she always has the strength to follow her own path. I hope she always stands strong and let's her voice ring out loud, proud and bold.

This is the girl I wish I could have been.

This is the girl I hope my daughter becomes.

This girl  gives me hope.