Tuesday, June 30, 2015

to Sing

to Sing perchance to Fly;
i Soar on the wings of sound
to Reach both the height and depth
of Being human - of human Being.

oh music!
at once the cause and effect,
the why and the answer.

the reason for Singing:
to Sing perchance to Fly.

Monday, June 29, 2015

Wild Thing

She let the thunder roar and the lightning flash like sparks of white flame around her.  "I will not yield!" she cried to the wind, which howled its response, whipping debris across her face, her arms, her legs.


Though I am tested, I shall not be won.  My heart is solid and strengthens my stance.  Earth shall not move me, nor Fire, Air, or Water.  For I am of them all.


They all watched as she limped back into the village the next morning.  Her limbs were bruised and bloody, her hair full of sticks, her jeans ripped and stained with mud and her eyes were hard, reddened with the Nightstorm she had weathered.


The sky was clear and blue.


"Everyone has questions,
But no one wants to know
How far the anger in someone
Can really make them go."

- "Wild Thing" by Noah and the Whale

This song has always intrigued me with its imagery of a girl emerging after spending 9 days alone in the woods and the public wonder at what turmoil would make her do such a thing (above lyrics).  Just a little something.

Sunday, June 28, 2015

Dancing Heart to Heart

I think back
To when this all began
When we were simply
Woman and man
Not more than partners
Aloof and apart
Who could have forseen
This remarkable affair
of the heart?

If I could tell you one thing
To keep for all of time
So you could know how much I love
That I can call you mine,
I would just want to say:

Darling I am with you always
Neither time nor space nor distance
Can keep us apart
Darling I am with you always
And forever we'll be dancing
Heart to heart.

It's a funny thing
And wonderful to know
Just how with room and patience
Our love began to grow
And you have given me so much now
More than I ever dreamed
More than I knew was possible:
You complete me.

If I could tell you one thing
To keep for all of time
So you could know how much I love
That I can call you mine,
I would just want to say:

Darling I am with you always
Neither time nor space nor distance
Can keep us apart
Darling I am with you always
And forever we'll be dancing
Heart to heart.

When I try to fathom
The depth of joy I find
In knowing how your spirit
Feels intertwined with mine
Just like how my fingers
Fit perfectly with yours
As we keep each other
Steady on life's course.

If I could tell you one thing
To keep for all of time
So you could know how much I love
That I can call you mine,
I would just want to say:

Oh my darling, I am with you always.
Neither time nor space nor distance
Can keep us apart
Darling I am with you always
And forever we'll be dancing
Heart to heart.

I am With You - 6/27/15

I am with you.
Defy the laws that govern Reality.
Time and space mean little
As I can now Exist beyond them.
I am with you Always.

Saturday, June 27, 2015


True reality
Question true experience
You nor I can know.

Friday, June 26, 2015

Soul Songs - 6/25/15

The song of our souls must continue; the melody cannot stall.  Though we can savor the echoes of the passages which touch our hearts, the notes vanish as each passing moment does into the infinite vastness of the past.  And so we must go on singing our songs, constantly creating themes and variations to form the parts of our lives around.  But it is hard to keep singing alone.

As we grow, however, our voices intertwine with those of the people around us into duets, trios, and even whole choruses; all are composed of melodies that are separate and unique, not always harmonizing, but always worth being expressed and heard.  The most precious people in our lives are the ones whom we can harmonize with, whether consonant or dissonant, who are unafraid to share their melody with us, and who refuse to cast judgement upon our own compositions, whether we are in periods of creative struggle or freedom.  And, especially in those times of struggle, our closest friends, loves, and collaborators are the ones who lift us up, who work to match our tones and strengthen them, helping return them to the vibrant brilliance we are all capable of expressing.

So goes the journey of the songs of our souls.

Je t'aime - 6/24/15

Je t'aime.

Je ne sais pas les mots pour dire à quel point ma vie a changé parce que vous êtes dedans.

Ogni giorno.
Ogni ora.
Ogni momento.
Ogni respiro è alterata a causa del tuo amore.

Du hast meine Seele und Hertz.  Du hast alles von mir.

Your love is my rock, my strength, my hope.

Je t'aime pour toujours.

Je t'aime.


In this heart lies for you
A lark born only for you
Who sings only to you
My love,
My love,
My love.

I am waiting for you
For only to adore you
My heart is for you
My love,
My love,
My love.

This is my grief for you
For only the loss of you
The hurting of you
My love,
My love,
My love.

There are rays on the weather
Soon these tears will have cried
All loneliness have died
My love,
My love,
My love.

I will have you with me
In my arms only
For you are only
My love,
My love,
My love.

Not my words for this night, but "In This Heart" by Sinead O'Connor has been playing recently on my iPod and rather perfectly sums up Tuesday.

That is all.  <3

Thursday, June 25, 2015

Waiting to Bloom - 6/22/15

"I can't wait for that day."

I have said this and it is untrue -- not a lie, but not entirely correct either.  It rightly sums up my sense of impatience, that jumping feeling inside my heart that wants to be heard NOW! and get its desires fulfilled immediately.

But the thing is, I can wait.  I can wait for that day because in-between this day and that one lie many others.  These other days are not hindrances, but rather are only opportunities to continue growing until that day arrives; when this happens, it will be with a soft and sweet realization that we have bloomed out of patience, hope, trust, and love.

Monday, June 22, 2015


O mio babbino caro... My beloved Dad,

It's difficult to come up with the right words to say what you mean in my life.  You have shaped so much of who I am today in so many little ways:

you taught me to take responsibility for my work and my actions,
an innate respect of other people,
the pay-off of hard work,
the joy of using talents,
that different joy that comes from service and helping others,
to appreciate the beauty of the natural world and all of its vistas,
what good road trip music is -- Loggins and Messina all the way!,
how to operate a table saw, a drill press, a hammer, screwdrivers, electric drills...
what a 2x4 is verses a 1x4, etc. etc., :)
and what a man who unselfishly loves his family does for them -- all of these things and more that we'll never know.

I am glad to know that you are proud of me.  Your belief in my dreams and that I can accomplish anything I set my mind to is one of the reasons that I am able to do just that.  I hold your trust in me in my heart and it carries me beyond my own doubts whenever they arise and it gives me strength through the challenges of "Becoming An Adult" and the particularly crazy (but wonderful) career path I've chosen.

I am equally proud of you.  As I have grown up and gotten to see you expand the touch of your talents, wisdom, and enthusiasm for serving others from the HS Choir Boosters to the Drama Dept. to  the Church Prayer Garden, to the City Arts Commission, I am only ever more impressed by how you use your passions and skills (both innate and newly cultivated!) to make an impression on the world around you.  You are such an artistic soul and, while I joke that you "play the radio" (thank you too for my wonderful sense of humor in the form of dad jokes... haha), it is constantly more apparent to me that your two artist daughters have inherited your creative passions.

"Thank you" is a phrase that will never capture all of my gratitude for your being MY dad, but, coming from the deepest part of my heart: Thank you and I love you.

Sunday, June 21, 2015


Thank goodness for friendships and laughter.  These are some of life's truest gifts.

Saturday, June 20, 2015

Home Hand Heart

I'm closer to home
Because I can hold your hand;
my longing heart calms.

Thursday, June 18, 2015

Mirror Mirror

"Mirror, mirror on the wall -- who's the fairest of them all?"

We are the only ones who are able to define ourselves.  WE choose the nouns, adjectives, and verbs that create our self image.  "I am..." our little voice says, looking in the mirror.  The mirror can't tell us anything!  It is just a reflection of what that little voice sees.

But how does that little voice decide where those definitions come from?  Are they of the world and its standards?

Let me share what I have figured out with you, oh Beautiful Daughter of Creation:

The world is hurting as much as you are.  The world feels as broken as your heart feels.  The world is wounded from twisted thoughts of worthiness and, sitting there staring at the mirror, it just keeps rubbing salt in its own wounds.  And, honestly?  The world is aching more than we can even imagine because it tries SO HARD to bring us down into the dirt with it -- misery loves company, as it is said.  The world wants you to wallow in what you do not have, what you do not look like, who you can't get, and to spend your money, time, and energy trying to alter the very foundations of who you are in order to get out of being who you are.  This is because our societal world does not like who it is; it is built on sinking sand and its very foundations rely on the catch-22 of trying to re-build again and again as the waves of Truth wash over it.

The Truth, my lovely?
The Truth, coming from the eyes and designs of the Lord, is:


Let that echo in your heart.  Write it down on every mirror, on every surface both within and around you.  Fuel your spirit with the knowledge that - no matter the ways of the world - your one wild and precious existence has a purpose you have yet to fully understand, and you have been granted EXACTLY the most beautiful, the most perfect appearance for what it is you have been, are, and will be called to do.

'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.'"  Jeremiah 29:11

Let the eyes of the Lord, full of love for you, be the source of your reflection.  Cover your heart with your worthiness until that little voice within it begins to pick up the call and joins in with the song of women everywhere who stand together in defiance of the world and what it wants you to believe.

"I am beautiful."

"I am perfectly made."

"I am worthy."

Wednesday, June 17, 2015


I didn't always like gold.  I found it garish in comparison to the gentle elegance of silver.
Yet now, I am so often filled with a golden light at the joy of loving you that I cannot help but adore the color.  
We change each other for the better, even in the smallest ways.

Dusk Drive

Night is falling.
The last traces of color have vacated the soft and hazy clouds, leaving a grey dusk behind.
I roll down the windows and let the now-cool air brush over my skin.
Deep, blusey jazz plays soft from the radio, the low bass buzzing the speaker with a faulty connection.
I don't mind.
It is hard to mind much on a drive as an almost-summer day comes to a close.
Its repose is gentle - a sigh burdened only by the exertion of the laziness that results from a sweltering afternoon.
The suburb streets are calm.
School isn't out until tomorrow and fireworks aren't for sale yet.
Street lights flicker on in the gathering night, shifting darkness from the corners of the sidewalk.
The frogs will begin to sing soon and I will let them lull me to sleep.
I roll to a stop to match the softened mood of the evening, pausing the key in the ignition to quiet the engine, but finish the song.
Cymbals chitter under a jazz brush and the last notes fade away on a minor chord.
The colors of the sounds, all blues and purples, match my longing for what will soon be.
Time to go in.

Monday, June 15, 2015

Sunday, June 14, 2015


A single shell lies in hope
Housed in a sheltered cove
Filled only with echoes of crashing waves
Waiting for the promise of the rising tide
Yearning for the caress of salted waters
That will drag it back to the sea
Where it knows true belonging.


Boo for cell phone problems.

Yay for love and friendship that makes long distances inconsequential.


Saturday, June 13, 2015

A Terrible and Awesome Responsibility

What a terrible and awesome responsibility it is to be alive - to live and continue living. We have so much power within us that can be used to ruin or build up the existence of all around us, including ourselves. This power is both outward - physical - and inward -emotional. How do we maintain the theoretical agreement with ourselves and one another that more comes from good than harm? Why do we maintain it? Why do some break it?

The many possible answers range from the biological to the spiritual and all of the subjects in-between, but the result is the same: we societally agree that we have a responsibility to honor this powerful, mysterious, and precious life that has been granted to us. It is both a frightening and marvelous thing to comprehend.

Thursday, June 11, 2015


Death for a death is not justice. It is simply more harm for harm's sake. Justice is allowing the opportunity for humanity to bloom from the dark place of sin and guilt, to forgive and allow the growth of others in the light of that forgiveness.

I Will Answer

This world is hurting
The wounds run deep
Battles rage with endless pain
Peace is hard to keep
But in the midst of all
You keep on asking 
Do you love me?
Then feed my sheep.

Feed my sheep.

I hear your voice calling me,
In the mighty storm and gentle breeze
In the faces of the suffering
And I'll raise my voice answering
Reaching hands to heal a world in need
For the greatest and the least of these
I hear your call
And I will answer.

Many are fighting
To make it through the day
It's hard to face the truth
I want to turn away
But in the midst of all
Your question is the same
Do you love me?
Serve in my name.

Serve in my name

I hear your voice calling me,
In the mighty storm and gentle breeze
In the faces of the suffering
And I'll raise my voice answering
Reaching hands to heal a world in need
For the greatest and the least of these
I hear your call
And I will answer.

Lord help our hearts and hands
To fill the ones that cry and plead
You are calling us to stand
And be Your love for all who need

And I hear your voice calling me,
In the mighty storm and gentle breeze
In the faces of the suffering
And I'll raise my voice answering
Reaching hands to heal a world in need
For the greatest and the least of these
I hear your call
And I will answer.

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Jane Moments

More and more often I have moments where I feel overwhelmed with happiness.

To quote Jane Bennet (in the 2005 film at least), "Can you die of happiness?"

Monday, June 8, 2015

Suspended in Doing

I'm trying to fill my life up with doing in order to keep busy and avoid listlessness.  It's proving to be only so successful.

Doing chores.  Doing errands.  Doing work.  Doing play.

I've been taught that acting is a matter of doing, rather than being.  We act on a desire, a want.  In thinking on my recent actions, very few feel motivated by true wanting.  Rather, they seem to stem from having to wait for the right time to be able to act upon the things I desire.

Is there a term for such a time?  "Existing" feels like it carries a tinge of negativity.  Balancing, perhaps.  Suspended.

Suspended in doing for the sake of doing, until the waiting game is over and the wanting can be allowed.

And with these strange, meandering thoughts, to bed I go.

Sunday, June 7, 2015

The Little Pieces

I don't know if all of the little pieces are falling into place, or if it simply seems this way because there is one, and only one, thing I need to know for things to feel right.  Life is not complete or perfect; to expect such a thing would place too much of a burden on myself, my life, and all of the people in it.  However, I have nothing to fear because I know that, even if everything else fell apart, that I can rely on love.

Love Songs

I was never sure
If love songs were right,
That people really could
Feel something so strongly.

"Wise men say only fools rush in..."
"I know you, I've walked with you once upon a dream..."
"You were made for me, my one, my only..."
"So this is love..."
"Look at me, I'm as helpless as a kitten up a tree..."
"Fly me to the moon..."
"I feel pretty..."
"There were bells on the hill..."

These are the songs
My mind keeps playing.
I can't help it.
Now I am sure.

Saturday, June 6, 2015

What I Can Give

What I can give is my time, my words, my heart, and all of the love it contains. Even then, I worry myself over whether that can be enough. Am I enough?

Thursday, June 4, 2015


To be brave is to stand up for what you believe in, to fight for right in the face of adversity, to stay standing amid a sea of naysayers.  To be brave is to risk your life to change those of others, to shed your ego to reveal your truest self, not to let go of fear but to embrace it and push yourself forward in spite of it.  There is no way to demean true bravery, though many might try.  One example of bravery does not diminish another.

To be frank, the efforts to undermine the story of Caitlyn Jenner by comparing her heroism to that of soldiers (the latter being "true bravery") disturb me.  I've held off on commenting on social media because I just don't care for any sort of firestorm, but these are just my thoughts.  There is no comparison.  Regardless of moral or political stance, both are heroic, both are about freedom and human rights, and in standing and fighting for what they believe in in the midst of a world out to attack them for it, both are brave.

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Desert Dreams

The blazing August sunlight scorched the dry and dusty New Mexico landscape and cast dancing mirages in the heat waves.  A single hawk wheeled in the burning blue sky while smaller birds nested in the cool of cactus burrows as snakes lazed on the blistering terrain and the vegetation withered in the stagnant air that suspended the world in near silence except for the chirping of a pair of cicadas and the scampering of a lone jack rabbit.  He sat and watched the rabbit meander around rocks and brush and explore the smallest niches of the earth, apparently unaware of the desert's pact to stillness in the heat of the solemn and expiring afternoon. He raised the pistol.

The hawk spiraled downwards.  The shots broke the air one two three times.  The predator took to the sky once more.  The rabbit hung limply in curved talons.  He did not turn his head to see it disappear over the cliffs behind him.

He remained in the lengthening shadow of the boulder as the sun inched slowly down into a bed of clouds over the mountains that rimmed the edges of the earth and painted the horizon a blood red that crept over the still unmoving world and touched his face.  The brilliant blue above faded to indigo and then to midnight and then into the darkest black and tiny stars emerged from their slumber to watch with lonely and distant eyes over the chilled landscape.  Dehydration overtook him and in the midst of feverish dreams she came to him. Her heard her horse approach but saw only her face as she lifted him in her arms and he felt her cool hands touch his face and they rode swiftly to the edge of the earth where the red sun met the cool blue of the river in her eyes and together they waded into those eyes and floated in the gentle current, needing nothing but each other until she began to weep and she swam to the other shore where the black Arabian waited patiently and as she rode into the red sun her tears became the river and he opened his mouth and drank the sweet and bitter taste of tears that stung his throat.  The sun set and cast his world into blackness.

A scrawny red haired girl with green eyes and too many freckles was running away.  She had her jeans and boots and hat, her water her gun her money and her horse and that was all she needed.  She rode in the chill of the evening under the cover of darkness and did not watch as the lights of Carlsbad, New Mexico, became pinpricks and then were swallowed by the horizon.  She did not stop to take a breath as the night enveloped her and the milky stars laid out a path above her while the cicadas and crickets and owls chirped their good mornings to each other and began the chorus of the desert coming to life.  She would not have stopped.  She would have ridden on forever until she reached the edge of that flat and far horizon where it seemed the stretch of the world simply ended.  Then she saw the horse.  Then she saw the man.

He did not know that the hands were not those hands and the horse was not the Arabian and the tears were not tears.  He had surrendered to the night when she came along stooped down and poured water down his throat and put him onto her horse and led him out of the desert.  It was in darkness that he remained until the warm yellow of afternoon sunlight filtered through white cotton curtains caressed his face and brought him back.  The mother of five children that lived in the red adobe home he awoke in fed and clothed him and the father housed and cared for his horse in their small clean stable.  Time passed and when he could walk again he looked after the children and when he could ride again he looked after their cattle and when it was time for him to leave he thanked and said goodbye to them and rode into another sunset.

But he did not forget those hands.


This is a steal from my high-school self.  Found an old assignment today and I just really like it.  It's in the style of Cormac McCarthy, meaning run on sentences with little to no punctuation.  I added a few commas for clarity's sake but that's probably even removing the style.  This was a creative response to McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses.

Cinema Paradiso

I am filled with a sweet melancholy, reminded of and warned about the passage of time, how change is inevitable and we never get all we hope for, that life's beauty is in its smallest moments, that love is more powerful than we can ever know, that true friendship defies all endings.

Monday, June 1, 2015

Silver Lining

My heart is protected with a silver lining.
I treasure each instant that adds to my armor.
I am strengthened through every word of love.
I never knew I needed it until it was there.
I will safeguard it always.
I have always preferred silver to gold.