Tag Archives: beauty

When your pulse tugs, listen.

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If you could hold it in your hand

Like dust tied down in space
And time, paused for the occasion

Would you?
The heart of your whole life,
The culmination of what truly mattered in the end
In the right now

If you could, would you?
Stop striving, leaning into the noise, pressing into the rush in that non-thinking way
And hold dearly whatever it is you hold dear?

Can you pinpoint it if you try?
And in the finding, could you revel in it deeply enough to feel alive?

We don’t, that’s my conclusion
Open-ended yet certain

I see a consortium of forests
With no trees
A pavilion of hearts
With no beat
An ocean of eyes
That can’t see
And nobody anywhere is dancing

Me?

I want to hold you in my hand

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Clarity

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Clarity

This morning I sat beneath a pecan tree, seventy-five or so feet it reached into forever
I watched, I observed the sunlight dancing on its leaves, like a gold necklace or platinum band, her leaves were also made for the limelight
I partook in it too; photosynthesis through a ninety-degree angled morning sun; isn’t it something how powerful sunshine is?
I asked how it happens, that in the silence of her posture she cleans the air I breathe
Silence, and stretching

Seasons come on in this way, cause and effect

Her roots are reaching deeper, begging the Earth to have her forever

Though just in case, she lays her eggs, her seeds into the ground

Edges, Soft and Frayed

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Vivid shades of sensuality
Peel themselves
Layers, layers
Beneath the lens
Behind the filter
Giver, giver
Sees the fantasy of fullest
Bare appeal

This, things too surreal
To be real
Sunshine on skin
Flesh, flesh
Such a wonderful mess
Of reds, pinks, flushed warm and deep hues

Laying in the luxury of ultraviolet shades
Of metaphysical haze
Of open, open

Too, when the windows are
And the mind also is
And coming together,
Most certainly
Everything does
Seem to, seem

Because, because
This golden way of thinking
Releases good hormones
From the cranial space
Hypothalamus stays
Full of wonder
To release, relent, revive
Our bodies from the inside

Out, out
Old wrenching ball patterns of thought
And leave this peace here now to bloom

Grief, Pain, and Loss: the Beauty Beyond Their Infinities

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If you could have witnessed what it was like to be around my Grammy and me, you’d intuitively understand the special bond the two of us shared. Everyone in my life — and hers — knew and adored our relationship, maybe even better than they ever knew or adored us. Our own individual identities were somehow intrinsically tied to our connection; it truly was that unspeakably deep. From my first dirty diaper to my first real heartbreak, this woman and I were connected in ways that transcended human comprehension. We were each other.

You can imagine the awkward twinge of a somehow envious-yet-awestruck pain this must have caused my mother. Still; even my very own mother — even from the very beginning — understood the beautiful magnitude of such an enormous and divine love. To this day, the gratitude she feels to have been such a crucial part of that bond holds precedence over the strange and unexpected jealousy any mother might feel. My mother has more of my Grammy in her than she knows.

Because of all that, however, I received quite an overwhelming response from almost every person at my Grammy’s memorial service. For some reason, each person in attendance felt it was their own personal duty somehow to give me permission to cry.

I couldn’t cry. The entire service, I just sat there… Numb. Frozen in space and time; suspended from reality like a puppet on a string, not refusing the grief, but somehow unable to quantify it through the customary tears that every single person seemed to expect me to shed. Tears felt like a disservice to my pain. Like an insult. Tears would have suggested that the loss was measurable somehow, and it simply wasn’t. I couldn’t cry; not because I was refusing to face the sorrow, but because the sorrow was simply too gigantic to portray by crying tears of a loss that becomes accepted and embraced when we mourn. There was no way to mourn this loss… Because it was so huge, so indescribable, that it was a PART of me. The only way I can explain it is to suggest imagining how you would feel attending your own funeral in person. It was awkward and surreal and it felt like nobody truly understood the depth of the pain. If they had, they would have known without question why my heart was too broken to weep.

And after all these years, all these pivotal moments in my life where I’ve had to re-live the reality of her no longer being here with me, I have cried only once or twice about the fact that she is gone. Fifteen years later, I am still too raw and too lost for words to minimize the pain with tears that can’t reach the infinity of sorrow by her absence in my world.

Maybe the things that matter the most to us have their own journeys to take through the un-navigatable corners of our hearts and souls. For me, it seems, that much I know is true.

This an excerpt from a previous post, “All That We See or Seem…”
The vibration resounded for me today, so I shared that vibe. Maybe some part of my own grieving and cherishing process will encourage others who feel the same strain of hiking such painful, mountainous terrain. Be blessed.

Lying in Wait

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Lying in Wait

The beauty of a flower is admired by its bold colors, and its delicacy.

But something God showed me is the beauty that no one thinks much about; as the sun has set and the colors and delicacy are no longer visible, the beauty of the flower lies in its striking poise, its silent confidence as it reaches itself higher towards the sky above as if longing for the suns’s touch. The flower sits contrasted against a big blue everything, and in the stillness of the night it grows into its own perfect unseen beauty. The flower’s roots reach deeper down into the sleeping earth as the night slips over it like a gentle sorrow. It learns a new peace. And if we look closely enough, we discover a concrete beauty that can’t be seen in the delicacy of daylight. We see a force of life that rests wakefully in waiting for the world to arise from its slumber.

Sitting patiently in the unknowing is actually what true strength looks like. The colorful beauty follows from the quiet strength.