Tag Archives: happiness

When your pulse tugs, listen.


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


I want to hold you in my hand



Have You Ever Tried To Bathe A Cat? Turning Thirty Is The Opposite Of That.


Today I’m thirty years old. Yesterday, I wasn’t. I’ve taken it upon myself to organize a celebration in the form of pajamas all day. Holla! 🙂

The onset of middle age isn’t anything I expected. The deep pontifications of growth, time, and change haven’t hit me like I thought they would. I woke up in the same foggy-brained body in which I fell asleep and my coffee tasted no more bittersweet than usual.

So what makes these birthdays– the ones with a zero in them– such a big deal?

I’ve felt thirty since I was twelve. Maybe that’s why it feels so uneventful to turn thirty; maybe not. I’m an infant by comparison to almost all of the people I care about and it’s always been that way. My entire life I’ve stood on the outside of something greater than myself, stretching to see over some metaphorical fence to find a place I belong, a crowd that makes sense, some collective group of like-minded people who might provide my brain a reprieve from the monotonies of living. It’s why I started this blog, even.

And over the course of the past year since it began, I’ve certainly found my niche. Here in this space, I have an entire world of compassionate and intelligent people at my fingertips. I found a brother (Sprinklin Thoughts) and a few powerful people who I’ve come to consider friends (Wayward Spirit, Travis, Alarna Rose Gray, Jennifer Stuart, Sean Bidd, The Loon, Lucas A. Draeger, and many wonderful others). Not only have I found a place to build my bonfires, I’ve discovered company in which to stay warm and inspired beside them. The kind of kin that only the internet and a burning desire to be part of something could provide.

Thanks, WordPress. Happy birthday to me. 🙂

So while I’m playing in my flowerbeds and making dinner in pajamas, maybe someone can shed some light for me. What’s with all the fuss about “getting old”? Am I the only one who likes it?

Edges, Soft and Frayed


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

Breathe! Breathe in the air…

Breathe! Breathe in the air…

We run circles around ourselves in attempt to maintain order amidst the increasingly chaotic and overwhelming responsibilities that govern our existence. We chase our to-do list into a perpetual tomorrow, as it snowballs itself into a mountain of unsorted papers of things we should have taken care of but couldn’t seem to manage to find the time to complete. We invariably waste hours of our lives attempting to sort through these paper Mount Everests hoping to eliminate the impending sense of dread and failure by minimizing the amount of random lists and consolidating them into one giant new list, but then we remember all of the things on today’s list that also never got taken care of because we were making an enormously pointless attempt at litter-reduction — which manages to accumulate into a deepening feeling of doom on our heavy hearts and frazzled minds. It’s a circle-jerk, for lack of a better term.

Being low in the attention span department myself, this is highly autobiographical and yet I know without hesitation that it speaks on some level to us all. With the million gadgets and trillion sources of non-stop stimulation, we have become (collectively speaking) a species of Now-or-Never. The to-do lists are less literal than metaphorical, but it seems notable that our brains have acquired the capacity to perform best when overworked. While that sounds appealing, I’m not actually convinced it’s true. I think our brains were made just fine to begin with, and we’re all lying to ourselves if we claim that overkill is a necessary factor in our own ability to process information and effectively conduct all of our affairs in the most optimal fashion.

I think you should give your synapses a break from the ongoing madness of when you were supposed to get what done at which place before whoever needs a ride to that one thing and then the world falls apart because you forgot everything except the list consolidation.

I think you should join me and turn your phone off, leave the emails for tomorrow, put your mind on pause and go for a walk. Go take a hot bath. Read a pointless book, for no reason other than soothing the soul. Make some real food, with fresh ingredients, take three hours to cook it if that’s your thing, with some perfectly ridiculously wonderful music playing while you do it. Barefoot. Naked. Whatever.

Take a moment (or five-hundred and fifty-seven moments, consecutively) to let your spirit remember what life is supposed to feel like. You know; alive.

I promise, the to-do lists can wait one more day.




what marriage really feels like


We lost sight of ourselves
In the blink of an eye
Kidnapped in rouge
Red with anger and my

Tightly woven escape
Became his quick foray
One moment one word
And then suddenly rage

Wrapping tightly its grasp
Around all that we had
Become, now undone
Just as simple as that

Little whispering lie
In my hot fragile mind
And the chaos then multiplied
Madness: unkind

Question marking our moves
Deaf to love dead to soothe
The callousing feeling
And having to prove

That I laid down my guard
So I softened my stance
Humility proving
That stillness can dance

Not a two step beside
Not a slow lullaby
But a back and forth rhythm
In which I’d abide

Within him and I
Grief could not mark its prey
Too far yet from dying
Too prideful to say

I am sorry
Me too
Yet the words would not do
Without being needed
…We already knew…

It is simple and kind.
Compassionate. Blind.
Merciful. Candid. And human inside.

Love knows not the forms
We perceive it to have
It wisens us all
To its infinite task

We breech and come back
In erroneous ways
Of life-burdened living
…But it’s life that will save

There is room in this shoe
For your own point of view
You’re welcome to wear it, he says…
And me too.

I step right inside.
Familiar in size
I like how it fits me
(Between you and I)

My perfect-most love
Imperfect, undone
The winning is found in the losing

…We won.

One war at a time
One flesh with two minds
And all of that passion
Within him is mine.