I haven’t published anything in months. While there are enough heart-wrenching stories to tell, they aren’t for public consumption. Continue reading “Getting to the meat of the issues”
And mindful reflection.
And eyes that see.
And ears that hear.
And the willingness to work through what I cannot see or hear,
or maybe ever.
Grateful for all that has led me here, right now.
Grateful for you and others on my path who may have caused wounds,
And grateful for my voice and for yours.
This is my heart.
And this is my art.
And we all have stuff with which to make art.
It’s always been you, John.
Most people know that yesterday was the 38th anniversary of John Lennon’s assassination. If you know anything about me, you are aware that I am much more than just a lifelong fan of John Lennon and his music. I hoped to lose my virginity to John Lennon. Obviously, that didn’t work out as he was assassinated in 1980, but had he lived longer…. Continue reading “Loving John After My Break Up with Peter”
Boxing gloves on.
Ready for the big fight, flight, or, freeze. Continue reading “Boxing Gloves & Kid Gloves”
And once she learned to kick and scream, the monsters quieted down.
When she knew she was safe to stop kicking and screaming, the monsters left
She was left with some permanent scars that she saw as rich and beautiful, because they were perfect to her and not because they had to be, but because they just were.
The little girl healed and the woman flourished.
The little girl and the woman agreed to coexist as the caretakers of each other and providers of the ointment that would protect and honor her scars
I’m good. I’m fine.
I tell myself that even when I am physically sick, I am somehow charged with at least making the effort to will myself well. I try this every single time I am ill, and I never succeed. Today is no different. Continue reading “Under Ar(rest) & Truthful Ad(mission)s”
As I stand at the base of the highest mountain I have ever seen, I squint to view its highest peak. I try to appraise what it will take to reach its top. How can anyone possibly live through this painful and dangerous climb? I try to count all of its jagged edges above the timberline, but there are too many to track. I panic. I don’t know anything about the other side of the mountain. I acknowledge that my understanding of this risky venture can only be accurately evaluated by walking to the other side of the mountain along its base. Continue reading “A Fear of Peaks (and Valleys)”