wintry poem

the world is strange
and new
at every turn

my finger tips
my toes
my eyes
all of them burn

we say goodbyes
and hold
our own
these merry wishes

we hug the warmth
and breathe
my heart
it turns and twitches

the winter bites
and stars are scattered
across our plates

we use our boots
we mend our coats
the spring she waits


If God is willing and the creek don’t rise

Heading away from this darkness and into the deep.   The sharks loiter and sniff, feeling for the end of the rope.  Grape fruit sodas and lumpy lips.  The crisp blue scent of the egoist.  Tears of glory and a frozen cap, my subtle stream is coming back.  Help me find the strength to carry on.

The slow smooth drawl of our taxi man was like warm hands across my ears.  He went on about the night life and the food, but all I could hear was, “Welcome, darlin’.  Welcome.”

We grabbed a bunch of pitch forks and moved on toward the pile.  I was still being tormented by the spirits that had been there since the beginning of the day before, but I still did not acknowledge them at this point.  I was feeling too many things at once and I didn’t know well enough what was my own.  There was this pit in my heart that I couldn’t quite place.  My mind is still quaking in its wake, I’m still grasping at straws for my own identity.

I put everything I had into that pile, every last ounce of anger rage and sadness as well as joy and pride and strength.  I drew energies in from the surrounding ether, I let them flood through me and back into the earth.  I could feel the warm sun shining in on me but the cool winter’s final whispers kept me from feeling the burn.

All of the souls that I was reaching were no longer in the distant past or even in the graves or other bodies, they all came directly through me as i desperately struggled to re-integrate.  This is something that I work on constantly, I am in endless transition among all the many selves that exist within the over-all.  I pitched and forked and over hauled and I myself was lost when it was done.

Beginning Dream Sequence

When I go to dreams I leave this world.  I find a safer space and time.  A place where shapes shift and eyes slip all along my states of mind.  In this world there is no guilt, no shame, no recompense.   I just see and hear and taste, smell, touch, and try to make some sense.  My intuition is much stronger there, my thoughts are crystal clear.  And I can fly and float and twirl, there is nothing that I fear.


There is this part of me that feels the need to open up.  I want to bring light to the lessons which we have all already learned but are choosing to forget.  But where do I begin?
Certainly it might be here, in a dreamscape, on my Grandmother’s little balcony.
A woman of great humanity and courageous accomplishment, of which you undoubtedly know very little.

I feel like there’s a barrier that needs to be broken in order for the brutal truth to burst forth from my finger tips.

Trying to practice vaporizing clouds but I keep getting stuck on the same question, “Wait, why would i want to vaporize a cloud that is so pretty as it takes the sun’s setting light so nice and neatly?”
I would much prefer to vaporize something that I don’t want to see…like a street, a car, a building or a plane in the sky.  But I suppose it has to be something that no one else would miss.
But if all the world is my illusion…then I would not miss it at all…

I once read a book called Illusions in which a man learns to vaporize the clouds above him on his journey towards learning to fly.
I believe that it is all very true and entirely possible but I am having a hard time sorting out my goal.

What is it that I want to learn?
The defensive, egoistic, and intuitive version of me says, “Nothing!  Don’t we know it all already?  I just need to decide how it feels to remember!”
And the Buddhist version of me says, “There is everything to learn, for I know nothing.”

But the romantic version of me wants to learn how to speak to the world.  I want to find a way to make it better.
I want to know how often it is that someone believes they have been chosen (born with purpose) only to find out that they are not.
Aren’t we all chosen?

We are all chosen!

Which of us will choose to make the good decisions?  That is the real question, isn’t it, after all.

I’m just going to do it. Starting right now.

This is me, starting a blog.

This is something that I have been meaning to do for quite some time and I think it is now the time that I finally just did it.  Without caring who reads it or what it even is about, I’m just going to start writing and expressing my thoughts and feelings, right here and right now.

I am an empath and I frequently find myself in situations where I am pouring my thoughts and feelings out to people via email or standard letter and am getting little-to-no response.  This is not because people don’t care for me or what I have to say, but there is just so much of it and everyone is just so busy, it would be impossible for them to respond on every point I make.  I think this is actually true for a lot of people, and this is, after all, exactly why we have therapists.  I am certain that if I were paying my pen-pals to read and respond to me rather than to go to work every day, they would be doing a much more thorough job.  This is why I strongly advocate for blogs and for not giving a damn about who reads them.

I’m starting this blog right now, because in addition to being an empath, I am also someone who has suffered from anxiety and depression in the past.  And although I am far more resilient, mindful, and generally happier than I was in the past; my moods still come hurtling towards me sometimes.  Swinging like a giant pendulum which I (and everyone around me) must move out of the way from.  Right now the moon is full, and that means that the changing of tides are much higher and much lower than at any other time of the month.  I have come to learn however, that these greater swings in water levels do not apply only to the oceans; but as creatures made almost entirely of this same substance, they also can greatly affect our moods and our emotions too.

Yesterday (Valentine’s Day) was actually an extremely good day for me, chock-full of emotional highs, but today has got me on the other end of the spectrum entirely.  And I must say that it is very strange to be able to go through these tumultuous swings of emotion while remaining almost entirely conscious of the process while it happens.  Today everything that could have possibly gone wrong did go wrong, in particular there was a lot of spilling of food on the floor, and when the moment came up (especially for the fourth or fifth time) I could feel myself being overcome with the urge to smash something or yell out some four-letter words.  How odd it is to really feel these urges so intensely, and yet know in that moment that they are not real, to be able to laugh at myself instead.  I consider myself very lucky, or very well-practiced, at this point because it has taken years for me to get to where I am.

It’s still amazing to me though; I always thought that when I “fixed things” that the crazy mood swings would just go away altogether (and perhaps still in the future they might).  But for now its really quite comical to just watch myself well up with such intense emotions in that moment, where my ego is absolutely throwing a fit from inside me, and yet my higher self just nods with the softness of true understanding and holds  my hand back from smashing things with her gentle and soothing smiles.