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  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,