I can't breathe underwater like I used to.
Today, it's a play between structure and freedom,
a thickening of the atmosphere between us...it touches souls.
Each movement of time
that passes with blinding speed
causes me to beg you to slow.
Please, be like molasses, only inching
through to tomorrows.
Echoes of time, I welcome you.
Only to beg you,
move slow.
3.5.12
Relax
In the morning go, dream still.
Hurry! Touch, wrap, roll, kiss, create.
Carry yourself into what you will
become.
Hurry! Touch, wrap, roll, kiss, create.
Carry yourself into what you will
become.
5.3.12
What it's like to Be
Resting in the desert light of New Mexico,
dancing in all my childish wisdom.
Secretly falling in love with Peter Pan.
What it's like to Be.
A small child, who
listens to every word you say.
What its like to Be
witness to your seasons,
to play in the soft grass and to drink in the salty air.
What it's like to Be
all together in motion.
dancing in all my childish wisdom.
Secretly falling in love with Peter Pan.
What it's like to Be.
A small child, who
listens to every word you say.
What its like to Be
witness to your seasons,
to play in the soft grass and to drink in the salty air.
What it's like to Be
all together in motion.
This way and That way
Sometimes I feel
my heart wishes to explode
like a firework
to encapsulate
the way you make me feel.
To share
To express
the totality of fire,
of power
it has touched so many
things
in
me.
As they are.
my heart wishes to explode
like a firework
to encapsulate
the way you make me feel.
To share
To express
the totality of fire,
of power
it has touched so many
things
in
me.
As they are.
These days, I..
Come upon the edge.
I find the line only to cross it.
Make room for room,
Fortify myself.
And I rest in the lustful silence.
And I hold it humbly, just for a moment; before I let go.
10.2.12
The red pen
And I finally found the reason why the only answer
I have for you is, "I don't know."
Maneuvering the levels, the uneven bars;
I always seem to, though I never mean to
share words that are not spoken enough.
It's all beautifully written in the margins of our story.
I have for you is, "I don't know."
Maneuvering the levels, the uneven bars;
I always seem to, though I never mean to
share words that are not spoken enough.
It's all beautifully written in the margins of our story.
25.1.12
"A therapist can be considered a lover of music, eager to hear the themes and variations of a client's story-music over and over and over again. A therapist is also a nostalgia buff, never tiring of hearing about the good old days, and the bad old days (Storr, 1990). The business of therapy is not a scientific enterprise. It is an art demanding the therapist be congruent and never adopt the concept of the client as an object to be manipulated, diagnosed, and dissected. Therapy is more like a greenhouse where the growth of the client and therapist alike occurs as a result of trust, empathy, understanding, and unconditional positive regard."
16.1.12
Nostalgia
I just recently returned from a ten day Vipassana meditation retreat where I practiced an average of 12 hrs a day in noble silence. Verbal communication is something that have always found extremely important because I have noticed that all of the healthiest people in my life communicate authentically- and all of the most miserable people in my life seemed to internalize and shelter their true emotions, causing them intense suffering. Through my coursework I have seen that psychological health and well being comes from acceptance of the authentic self, both internally and in relationship.
What does talking have to do with silence? I'll get there I promise. I found that experiencing mental silence (coupled with the teaching of Vipassana) is a path through which one can begin to experience authentic emotions. It was shocking to me how deep our emotional responses go- and at times, when reacting we may not even be aware what we are communicating to ourselves and others.
While I was on retreat I naturally missed a lot of things. I missed verbal connection with my family, I missed music (surprised?) and I missed touch. This made me think a lot about nostalgia.
What causes us to feel connected to something? Why is an old picture at a thrift store in Portland making me fall on the floor laughing? Its because we create stories and connections in verbal and nonverbal interaction with ourselves and others.
Our attachments both personal and generational says a lot about what we are connecting to or with. At this time in my life I notice that my friends and I have grown increasingly (and at an alarming speed) close to technology. Many people I talk to about this highlight the problems it causes behaviorally, but I want to talk about some goodness I see in it. We are now provided with a channel to connect with one another from anywhere in the world.
I skype with my best friend in Thailand.
I just talked music with a dear pal in Madrid.
That is something I am incredibly grateful for in my life.
The ability to travel the world and stay connected to those you wish to share your life with is a freedom I am just beginning to taste.
Specifically, the introduction of Timeline on facebook has been of interest to me. While scoping it out with friends I noticed how nostalgic this layout is. Not only are you able to give attention to major, meaningful life events, you are able to go back to any point in your life and see what you may have been up to. For those of us who have been on facebook for over 6 years, thats a whole lot of personal data. I felt extremely nostalgic glancing through some of my old memories that facebook has preserved.
I want to end by saying that there is an incredible amount of beauty in the present moment, so revel in it, taking juuuust enough time to preserve some of the nostalgia you wish to indulge in later in life.
What does talking have to do with silence? I'll get there I promise. I found that experiencing mental silence (coupled with the teaching of Vipassana) is a path through which one can begin to experience authentic emotions. It was shocking to me how deep our emotional responses go- and at times, when reacting we may not even be aware what we are communicating to ourselves and others.
While I was on retreat I naturally missed a lot of things. I missed verbal connection with my family, I missed music (surprised?) and I missed touch. This made me think a lot about nostalgia.
What causes us to feel connected to something? Why is an old picture at a thrift store in Portland making me fall on the floor laughing? Its because we create stories and connections in verbal and nonverbal interaction with ourselves and others.
Our attachments both personal and generational says a lot about what we are connecting to or with. At this time in my life I notice that my friends and I have grown increasingly (and at an alarming speed) close to technology. Many people I talk to about this highlight the problems it causes behaviorally, but I want to talk about some goodness I see in it. We are now provided with a channel to connect with one another from anywhere in the world.
I skype with my best friend in Thailand.
I just talked music with a dear pal in Madrid.
That is something I am incredibly grateful for in my life.
The ability to travel the world and stay connected to those you wish to share your life with is a freedom I am just beginning to taste.
Specifically, the introduction of Timeline on facebook has been of interest to me. While scoping it out with friends I noticed how nostalgic this layout is. Not only are you able to give attention to major, meaningful life events, you are able to go back to any point in your life and see what you may have been up to. For those of us who have been on facebook for over 6 years, thats a whole lot of personal data. I felt extremely nostalgic glancing through some of my old memories that facebook has preserved.
I want to end by saying that there is an incredible amount of beauty in the present moment, so revel in it, taking juuuust enough time to preserve some of the nostalgia you wish to indulge in later in life.
13.1.12
Re-installation of Hope
How do you expect me to know, how deep is too deep?
Maybe I'll just go down to the riverside while you stay.
Maybe I'll revel in the song outside my window, while you stay.
Or perhaps, I'll sit in the resonant silence of myself,
smiling into every cell of my being
while you stay still.
Maybe I'll just go down to the riverside while you stay.
Maybe I'll revel in the song outside my window, while you stay.
Or perhaps, I'll sit in the resonant silence of myself,
smiling into every cell of my being
while you stay still.
18.12.11
20.11.11
To tell a tale
In all seasons, but especially fall, I enjoy a good story to sweep me away. Currently I am tangled up with two tribes in the Amazon, a 73-year woman who is pregnant, and a heroine who has pretty serious father issues. State of Wonder by Ann Patchett is doing the trick for my its-cold-outside-and-I-want-to-curl-up-and-read-all-day feelings.
Some other lovely things for a rainy Sunday:
Sipping tea and sharing views
"I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!" -Alice
14.11.11
6.11.11
Love, logically.
I recently started my Masters in Counseling Psychology, my program is rooted in Systems theory and transpersonal in its focus. There are many definitions for the word transpersonal, and because the field is young (35 years old) it is constantly expanding and transforming itself. I am constantly reflecting on how lucky I am to have found this place, it feels like home. Spirit and Soul are at the core of what I think about on a daily basis, and the first topic we were introduced to in this program was death. Experiential exercises including Psychosynthesis and Mindfulness thrust us into the depths of this dark topic, but while there I found something unexpectedly light, Love.
Death and Life are rooted together so deeply. I have spent much of my first quarter reflecting on the loved ones I have lost, and I don't simply remember the grief I felt at their loss, I also remember the life they lived. More specifically I feel the love that they gave. In doing so, I think about the life I am living, the love I am giving. It is reflecting on death, that I see new life.
As a child I felt very closed off to love. Wary of trusting the solidity of others, much of my poetry and prose is an exploration of those feelings. It is strange, I write from a place that is so guarded in order to transcend those feelings. And transcend I have. In these few short weeks, writing and reflecting on past work, I have unfolded in new ways. I am excited in new ways for life, and the experiences I will share with my loved ones.
As a previously defensive and cynical lover of love, I need to see the logic here. Emotionally powerful states of mind have logic to them. I have come to see that the purpose of love is to come to know another deeply, and contribute to their wellness and dreams. In order to do this, you must question yourself how you may I come to know this person, how can I contribute. It must be consciously considered. Listening to this person, intuitively taking in this information is not something that happens on it own, you must care. In order to truly care, you must transcend your own selfishness and egocentricity. In my experience, this is tough work, our ego is more pervasive than we know. Ego roots itself, deep. But transcending this sense of “I” to share a piece of yourself with another gives life a vibrancy that is untouched by any other emotion.
You are irreplaceable.
May all beings be happy.
Death and Life are rooted together so deeply. I have spent much of my first quarter reflecting on the loved ones I have lost, and I don't simply remember the grief I felt at their loss, I also remember the life they lived. More specifically I feel the love that they gave. In doing so, I think about the life I am living, the love I am giving. It is reflecting on death, that I see new life.
As a child I felt very closed off to love. Wary of trusting the solidity of others, much of my poetry and prose is an exploration of those feelings. It is strange, I write from a place that is so guarded in order to transcend those feelings. And transcend I have. In these few short weeks, writing and reflecting on past work, I have unfolded in new ways. I am excited in new ways for life, and the experiences I will share with my loved ones.
As a previously defensive and cynical lover of love, I need to see the logic here. Emotionally powerful states of mind have logic to them. I have come to see that the purpose of love is to come to know another deeply, and contribute to their wellness and dreams. In order to do this, you must question yourself how you may I come to know this person, how can I contribute. It must be consciously considered. Listening to this person, intuitively taking in this information is not something that happens on it own, you must care. In order to truly care, you must transcend your own selfishness and egocentricity. In my experience, this is tough work, our ego is more pervasive than we know. Ego roots itself, deep. But transcending this sense of “I” to share a piece of yourself with another gives life a vibrancy that is untouched by any other emotion.
You are irreplaceable.
May all beings be happy.
2.11.11
Reunification
She went to the attic, up so high as she dove into shadows
jumping into them, as if they were crisp leaves.
Rejoicing over the fullness
So dim the light- she grasps the walls
hearing all the while,
You are held.
Fire
Illuminate
Grows higher.
Covering the walls, the ceiling, the floor
pages and pages of our stories
Sit with me, lets breathe them in.
See
and be seen.
Once these days pass, I will still feel your love
because you are standing on your own two feet, seeing me
letting me see you.
My heart deserves to be loved back.
jumping into them, as if they were crisp leaves.
Rejoicing over the fullness
So dim the light- she grasps the walls
hearing all the while,
You are held.
Fire
Illuminate
Grows higher.
Covering the walls, the ceiling, the floor
pages and pages of our stories
Sit with me, lets breathe them in.
See
and be seen.
Once these days pass, I will still feel your love
because you are standing on your own two feet, seeing me
letting me see you.
My heart deserves to be loved back.
17.10.11
Onward
I wish I could sit here mindlessly
and catch up with you.
But misery, I have some moving on to do.
and catch up with you.
But misery, I have some moving on to do.
8.9.11
"Among them are killers"
A corrupted form of an American Indian word, Yosemite translates into "among them are killers." So how can a place rooted in violence, defined by such wild darkness, bring me peace?
It is a summer tradition to plan a vacation, our destination this year: Yosemite. A close friend from college is from Mariposa, which is a mere 30 minutes from one of the most breathtaking national parks our country has to offer. When I told her of our plans to travel to her backyard, she promptly asked for my address. A week later I received a fat priority mail envelope covered in mountain sketches with this quote: "The clearest way into the universe is through a forest wilderness" -John Muir. Inside that package was every possible piece of information on the park and handwritten tabs of all of the must see spots. An insiders guide to Yosemite, in other words: Gold. Few people have the ability to make me feel completely seen- and Amy is one of them. I could feel her thoughtfulness before even opening her package. From the start I knew this was going to be an amazing trip.
My mom has taught me how to travel, and we have become quite good at doing it together. Sure, sharing a bathroom is not the top of my morning (she feels the same way, of this I am SURE), but our system has not failed us once. We know how to get the most out of an experience, and armed with Amy's package we began our three day trip to Yosemite.
Few things bring me the peace that hiking does. But this time, it was different. This was not the familiar dirt of Sonoma or Mt. Tam, this felt massive, like it was telling me from the moment I stepped into the valley that it was going to own me for the next few days. Willingly, I allowed it to. From our first evening taking in the history and falling asleep to the sound of running water outside our window, to rolling through the valley on cruisers, to our day hike to Vernal and Nevada Falls, it owned me.
Fall in love with your surroundings, it will not fail in putting things into perspective. It seems that every now and then we all need to be reminded of the wisdom that comes from the darkness, from the wilderness.
no smile compares to
a smile in love; no feeling
is justly expressed
A corrupted form of an American Indian word, Yosemite translates into "among them are killers." So how can a place rooted in violence, defined by such wild darkness, bring me peace?
It is a summer tradition to plan a vacation, our destination this year: Yosemite. A close friend from college is from Mariposa, which is a mere 30 minutes from one of the most breathtaking national parks our country has to offer. When I told her of our plans to travel to her backyard, she promptly asked for my address. A week later I received a fat priority mail envelope covered in mountain sketches with this quote: "The clearest way into the universe is through a forest wilderness" -John Muir. Inside that package was every possible piece of information on the park and handwritten tabs of all of the must see spots. An insiders guide to Yosemite, in other words: Gold. Few people have the ability to make me feel completely seen- and Amy is one of them. I could feel her thoughtfulness before even opening her package. From the start I knew this was going to be an amazing trip.
My mom has taught me how to travel, and we have become quite good at doing it together. Sure, sharing a bathroom is not the top of my morning (she feels the same way, of this I am SURE), but our system has not failed us once. We know how to get the most out of an experience, and armed with Amy's package we began our three day trip to Yosemite.
Few things bring me the peace that hiking does. But this time, it was different. This was not the familiar dirt of Sonoma or Mt. Tam, this felt massive, like it was telling me from the moment I stepped into the valley that it was going to own me for the next few days. Willingly, I allowed it to. From our first evening taking in the history and falling asleep to the sound of running water outside our window, to rolling through the valley on cruisers, to our day hike to Vernal and Nevada Falls, it owned me. Fall in love with your surroundings, it will not fail in putting things into perspective. It seems that every now and then we all need to be reminded of the wisdom that comes from the darkness, from the wilderness.
no smile compares to
a smile in love; no feeling
is justly expressed
22.8.11
No Traction
Upstairs an attic,
upstairs an addict.
Outside she swings,
to and fro, to and fro.
Suspended love, is still love in her eyes.
11.8.11
The heart who had no bones
We fall in
each time cursing our ignorance.
Roll up your sleeves, perseverance comes invited or not.
It just depends on how long you would like to suffer.
Crippling doubt aside- acceptance.
each time cursing our ignorance.
Roll up your sleeves, perseverance comes invited or not.
It just depends on how long you would like to suffer.
Crippling doubt aside- acceptance.
27.7.11
The seconds before the fall
Paralyzed I stand
and stare, you, once soothing, are suspended towards my afternoon sky.
Coming down to rain on me.
But will you?
It seems you have yet to decide.
Collecting thoughts (or are they things?)
I wonder as I race through the cabin.
What is it that could be more important than my life?
A mostly empty suitcase?
I leave things behind as your lullaby stops,
replacing it is a chilling silence.
Filling with complete admiration and respect,
I will wake before you come crashing down.
But not before I have heard you, felt you, loved you.
and stare, you, once soothing, are suspended towards my afternoon sky.
Coming down to rain on me.
But will you?
It seems you have yet to decide.
Collecting thoughts (or are they things?)
I wonder as I race through the cabin.
What is it that could be more important than my life?
A mostly empty suitcase?
I leave things behind as your lullaby stops,
replacing it is a chilling silence.
Filling with complete admiration and respect,
I will wake before you come crashing down.
But not before I have heard you, felt you, loved you.
Look up
How can I be moved when I am in pieces?
My eyes remain unchanged as you weigh your odds.
"I see you" I say
and we kiss goodbye.
"The risk it took to blossom" for Maria
Through the light of intuition lie
a voice soft and sure.
Just like the moon, comforting and sweet,
showing me the way I may shine.
Guiding my heart to the center of this world.
Expressing my gratitude is meaningless,
unless I do it dancing under your soft glow.
We are all home.
We are all love,
You whisper, "All good things."
a voice soft and sure.
Just like the moon, comforting and sweet,
showing me the way I may shine.
Guiding my heart to the center of this world.
Expressing my gratitude is meaningless,
unless I do it dancing under your soft glow.
We are all home.
We are all love,
You whisper, "All good things."
tunnels underground
You came to me in a dream
allowing me to shoulder the weight of your soul.
To feel what leaving means
To smell the sweetness that holds your favorite memory,
one last time.
What a gift it is to know you,
even in death.
allowing me to shoulder the weight of your soul.
To feel what leaving means
To smell the sweetness that holds your favorite memory,
one last time.
What a gift it is to know you,
even in death.
untitled
The miles blend to one as I walk beside you
There is nothing past this.
I crave a finale, the twists of this story, the climax
Awareness of beginning, always
My craving dissolves into the simplicity of
your lips
and mine.
There is nothing past this.
I crave a finale, the twists of this story, the climax
Awareness of beginning, always
My craving dissolves into the simplicity of
your lips
and mine.
28.6.11
olsen overlook
open your heart to a city
and it will engulf you
balancing on greens and seas I feel you in the air, on my skin
It is in the stillness that I find ease,
listening to the chords that balance my core.
watching you play in your new world
taking steps backward, no regard for forward momentum
you trust that it is within you
with clarity I am envious of
We create walls that keep us from ourselves
only to spend our lives learning that the key to freedom is experience.
and it will engulf you
balancing on greens and seas I feel you in the air, on my skin
It is in the stillness that I find ease,
listening to the chords that balance my core.
watching you play in your new world
taking steps backward, no regard for forward momentum
you trust that it is within you
with clarity I am envious of
We create walls that keep us from ourselves
only to spend our lives learning that the key to freedom is experience.
27.6.11
forgiveness
I am of you
I take nothing from you
Your void has been the plot for overgrown happiness
I dream of sorrow overtaking yours
even after all of this, I can still say I love you to the stillness. And mean it, father.
I take nothing from you
Your void has been the plot for overgrown happiness
I dream of sorrow overtaking yours
even after all of this, I can still say I love you to the stillness. And mean it, father.
11.6.11
Pacific Grove
I was saved by the sea. Shifting through the rock that surrounds me, rooted deeply. A tree.
It is no longer a dream
come home Janet, come home.
It is no longer a dream
come home Janet, come home.
25.4.11
moved.
your words, a voice
inspired free flow of honesty
Perfect static energy, you hold my heart.
How can you move the universe while standing still?
I want to swim in your eyes and hold you in my arms.
inspired free flow of honesty
Perfect static energy, you hold my heart.
How can you move the universe while standing still?
I want to swim in your eyes and hold you in my arms.
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