Tag Archives: words

Once Spoken


I am filled with the most peculiar of feelings today; emotions that supersede any knowledge I have of words to describe them. Instead, they sit inside of me much like that of a vapory image; like the transparent feeling left within one’s mind after having caught a glimpse of someone they think they know, only to notice upon second glance that they’re gone. Or, like a memory, having faded, and leaving only its essence behind.

Perhaps my soul knows what it is that I’m feeling; my mind merely hasn’t or refuses to put the pieces together. Words are funny that way; once we label something with a word that has been pressed onto paper, the something that was previously without form and left hanging without certainty, now takes shape. It becomes a thing, once described.

Often, I feel, this is why there’s something cathartic about speaking one’s feelings to another. We are forced to pull together words that will later be called upon and referenced in either a positive or negative light.

I wonder if that is why so many of us hasten to label a relationship, as we don’t know if the label would enhance or diminish that which we feel toward the other. Or, more importantly, if it matches the feelings of the other.

Words, words, words – funny little things. Like a gun they have the ability to kill a person; their heart, their hopes, their dreams. But like air, they can also breathe life into someone who no longer has the strength to breathe on their own. Kind words can lift a person to heights they never knew before. Damaging words can plunge us to depths we never knew possible. And of course, there is that which is unspoken. I find those the most exhilarating and unsettling. Like magic, their power rests in the unknown.

I will bring this to a close still unable, or unwilling to put words to what rests on my heart. Instead, I will try to clear my mind, and in doing so focus upon the trees that are busy closing down for the season. I will listen to the birds, who unlike me, have no concerns over what they are saying. And of course, from this ambiguous place, I will write.

Enjoy your weekend; label it well.


Written to the sound of geese heading south for the winter and silence.

Tuesday Panties and a Rabbit’s Foot


When I was a kid I had a pair of lucky undies, or so I thought. I also had special day-of-the-week panties. I was continually wearing a Tuesday panty on a Sunday, and Friday panty on a Monday, and so forth. But I was convinced my mojo was totally going on when I wore the correct pair on the corresponding day. But, just like the lucky underwear, It really didn’t matter. Even though for the longest time, I was quite certain it did. As a kid, I had no need for logic. I just went with whatever – worked – or seemed to work, at the time. I wasn’t picky.

When something good happens, it puts a chink into our psyche. We are, on some level, forever changed from the experience and the peaceful memory it causes. The human condition will then try to do all it can to replicate, and play over that experience. Something in the mind tells us to mix up the same potion, or listen to the same song, or do whatever we did the first time that stirred up and conjured that experience. It was good then, so let’s relive it now. If this means wearing a certain pair of undies because the last three times we wore them we aced our spelling test or the cute guy smiled at us, then so be it. Often, the mind leaps over common sense when looking for happiness.

These little psychological glitches work in the reverse, as we all know. Supposedly, I’m still riding out an eight year bad luck streak from breaking a mirror. It was a big mirror too, does that matter? Even the most logical among us wonder what if, upon seeing a black cat cross our path. Especially when heading to the doctor. But, I don’t believe in luck: good or bad. I do however, believe in being open and allowing of good things. I can not turn a blind eye to those things that make me cringe, but I do feel if my eye is more focused upon that which makes me smile and feel good, then I will become more in tune and in harmony with those things.

I feel, more than a rabbit’s foot or bauble of good fortune, we possess the power to bring about good things. And we do this first by looking for them. And if we train our eye, then it takes less effort. Life is a conglomeration of all things. Because what is good for one, may be bad for another. Both need to exist.

Life is unpredictable, both for the good and the bad. What’s interesting though is that sometimes within that which appears so unlucky, is the one thing that will bring about a positive change. I no longer try to throw the gavel down either way. Instead, I try to see the good in most things, and if no good can be spotted then I try to simply ride it out while broadening  my view. Sometimes this means, looking and looking and looking. And when I don’t give up, it is usually in that far off corner, where I’ve never looked before, that I find just what I need.


Written to Fat Bottomed Girls by Queen

Fully Expressed

It’s that time again, when the afternoon sun lingers in the sky lazily as if reflecting upon the busier days of summer. Its autumn. My favorite time of the year.

Like Spring, Autumn reminds us of the cyclical nature by which we all live. The very world around us forces us to bear witness to the miracle that is life and death. The vibrant birth of all things colorful and green, now entering its final days. The circle of life that is nature.

As the leaves shift in color, a bit of melancholy fills the air; due to the visual reminder that all things change. All things, good and bad, must come to an end. Only the hand of God would signal the shift from life to dormancy with such brilliancy and beauty.

Nature never intends for things not to change. Change is all nature knows. Change is all nature does. The very cycle that is life, hinges upon change. The smell of the air changes. As if from long days baking, the earth emits a tired, yet beautiful perfume. The wind blows as if to remind us that something breathes beyond our view; something colder, something harsher. And the sun, when making its appearance, does so with little restraint. Instead it reveals its heat and magnificence with unabashed confidence. Nature, while alive, never forgets to live.

Whatever this divine source is that made all things, did so knowing there’s more to life than utilitarian function. Life is an expression. There’s a woman I know, who’s gentle disposition and delicate face always struck me much like that of a perfect rose. Both inward and outward, she was lovely. A when young, I wished to be more like her.  Nature never wishes for anything beyond what it is. From the moment it emerges, it lives in full expression. Therefore, when a tree ends its cycle it does so knowing it has lived, and it has lived well. This gentle woman, whom I’ve mentioned, passed away last night. And as I sit here, with my days steadily unfurling beneath me, my heart hurts and my mind wonders. Her soul ended the life cycle, knowing it had done all it had intended. Did her mind know this as well? I will never know. Like the trees that turn color to remind us that all things change, and that all things must come to an end – I will look upon her passing as a reminder. We can’t control change. We can no sooner control nature’s cycle than we can control the positioning of the stars. But we can be in harmony with change. And while doing so, live a life that is unabashed and fully expressed.

In memory of the girl with porcelain skin, and Farrah Fawcett hair for whom I wanted so much to be like. Your gentle spirit, and easy smile, will be missed.


Written to, Symptoms by Atlas Genius

And…How Does That Make You Feel?


It’s a statement that’s taken on comedic connotations. However, as statements go, there’s none that carry more meaning as it relates to one’s life, than: how does that make you feel?

The mind, both the conscious and the subconscious, controls everything having to do with our personal being. The you that is you; the me that is me; all controlled and dictated by the mind. And when it comes to this inner aspect of our lives, feelings, work much like that of a rudder on a ship. Not only do our feelings stir us, and bring us to life; they also steer us, and move us in different directions.

We do nothing, without the purpose of producing a certain feeling. Oddly enough, we do many things knowing full well it’ll bring about negative feelings. But if we believe there’s something useful in the feeling, we continue on. For the most part, we always move in the direction of that which we believe will make us feel good. Humans tend to enjoy feeling good. Pleasure is an essential nutrient to life.

We’d put our hand directly in the flames if not for the fact that it feels horrific to do so. Pain is just as important as pleasure; it tells us what to avoid or if something has gone wrong. One is a green light, one is a red. We need both. Within every experience, bar none, rests both extremes: pleasure and pain. When a kiss goes awry, the need to escape it, is darn near painful. When a kiss is sweet, the pleasure experienced draws the mouth back for a second taste. When one over indulges in a meal, the body painfully rebukes such gluttony. When one is hungry, savoring slowly the meal before them, the taste buds come alive with pleasure.

For many, they wake with pain already resting in their heart and mind before even having stepped into their day. For years, having ignored or downplayed their feelings, they’re now inundated with a life absent of all pleasure; one that is painful to the core. But when moving in the direction of our choosing, pleasure rests in the heart; the mind comes alive. Even during the most uncertain moments – we feel good.

The next time life presents a situation, one in which your feelings are mounting. Relax upon the dark leather sofa of your inner therapist and listen to the voice that asks: how does that make you feel? More important than the answer, is to exam why. Because it’s often within the why that we learn what we need to learn about ourselves.


By Default


There are a few angles from which to view life. One, is of an omnipotent being that throws both good and bad circumstances our way. Another, is that life is a school wherein we’re constantly tested. I don’t believe either of those.

I believe life is a place where good and bad things happen regardless of us being here or not. It’s not personal. Things happen, and not necessarily to teach us, or to prepare us for anything. These things are simply inherent to this particular kind of world.

I do feel though, that we’re here with a purpose, and if allowed, we can work in connection with that ever-present, omnipotent force. We’re either in harmony with it, or disharmony; living actively or by default. Like any other device, we can operate with the pre-set, default setting blinking repetitively, or we can fine tune these lives of ours. Many haven’t a clue of the choices given. Many never stop to change the settings in their lives. They live in a life that’s flashing 12:00am regardless of the time. Unlike a digital alarm clock, I don’t feel we can manipulate life down to the minute, unfortunately. But we can surely set things into motion. Instead of being passive participants we can give our life direction.

When something bad happens, people often believe God is against them; punishing them. I can’t say I know why bad things happen other than, it’s all part of living in a contrasting world. Without the bad, we never fully appreciate the good. Without hunger we never truly grasp the magnificence of being satiated. Without having lived with the wrong partner, we never understand the beauty of living with right partner. This world seems to be a place that offers a buffet of contrast. We pick and choose. But when we choose something and discover it was a horrific choice – don’t blame anyone, including God or yourself. Instead, start the process of choosing something different. Many of us begin this journey with only a vague concept of what we want and what we hope to accomplish. It’s only through this continual exposure to contrast that we become skilled at fine tuning our life.

We start out knowing only that we are hungry. It isn’t until sampling food that we discover what we’re hungry for. Sometimes all we know is that we’re lonely. It isn’t until having had the company of another that we discover loneliness has little to do with a partner and everything to do with ourselves. Then, and only then, can find a partner that adds to an already fulfilled life.

Life allows us that; it allows us continual exposure to what we don’t want so that we know what we do want. Change can be scary; no doubt about it. But that’s the art of fine tuning.


Ever Changing

Self acceptance can mean many things. Sometimes what we accept are the very things about ourselves which we loathe. But we accept them just the same.

The world is quick to label people. But we are even quicker to acceptance those labels. And when the label begins to define us, we often choose not to change the label but to let the label change who we are. I know many people who believe they are the embodiment of the many flaws they see in themselves. I, am not defined by my flaws and failures any more than I am defined by my success.

In time, we do become what we believe. I once read: One can’t live a positive life with a negative mind. And the perception we have of ourselves sits at the crux of our perception of life. Over the years I’ve gotten kinder with myself. I have many flaws, but I see them more as something on the exterior that can and will change. Like the wrong color painted onto a house, in time it will either fade, and peel away, or I will finally put the effort into applying a new coat; using a color that pleases me. Accepting and labeling myself by an aspect that I’m not fond of, makes no more sense than declaring a house painted purple as house that can be no other color.

If you don’t like something, change it. Do so without limitation or labels, or wild expectation. Go easy with it. But never hinder your ability to create anew. You have the ability to be, do and have what you desire within yourself. Change is inherent and change is natural. The seasons do it without apology. And so should we. To say, this is who I am. But then not like who you are – is toxic. If you need to define yourself, let your definition be: ever-changing. And if you are to accept any label, accept the one that reads: work in progress. Why should it be any other way?


The Full Spectrum Mind


There’s a bit of a misconception regarding those who believe differently and see through optimistic eyes. And that misguided assumption, is that they have a foolish mind.

If someone wants to believe in the power of something other than what’s been derived from critical thinking, they are often seen as one who’s easily swayed by whim and folly. If one sees the divinity in a tree and wants only to preserve it, they are seen as passive. If someone values the power of the soul, the earth, the mind and the energy that dwells in all things, they are written off as quacks.

The true indicator of intelligence is one who’s unafraid to see the world through a broadened view; never ruling out the many possibilities that live beyond what has been proven and analyzed thus far. Even a scientist knows that conclusive findings are limited to the invention of tools used to discover the findings. When a new tool is created, one that surpasses its predecessor, then new conclusive findings are gathered – this cycle will never end, as there will always be more waiting to be discovered. What is true with science, and the far-reaching galaxies, is also true with life. All knowledge is limited to what we allow as possible. The greatest researchers in history knew: anything is possible.

And yet, if that same openness is taken into our conversations, one is easily scorned and treated as the fool for allowing their thoughts to flutter so loosely beyond the accepted norm. It is the smart mind that knows nothing new is discovered, nothing new is learned, unless the mind flutters into new territory. I find it interesting when listening to those that quickly render something impossible. Misguided, they feel they’re flexing their wisdom and personal power by limiting the situation and others. I don’t care if someone hugs trees or is a captain of industry, has a seat in public office or sits high upon a mountain in meditation – within all of these – there are the strong-minded and the weak-minded. The man tilling the soil can, and often does, possess the same intellectual mind as the man turning pages in a University library. The mind is powerful, when allowed. Many just refrain from the – allowing.

Those with a broad mind tend to keep their beliefs and opinions held close to their chest as they’re often scorned. But they aren’t scorned by those with keen intellects. They are scorned by those who’s minds are too weak to grapple with the possibility of new information. Like the child that won’t release their mother’s hand, those with a closed mind hold on too tight to only the knowledge that feels safe; they don’t want to go beyond the safety of primary colors.

Fear of knowledge is by far worse than limited knowledge. Presuming to know the answer, without hearing all the possibilities, is by far worse than never having an answer at all. Those who aren’t afraid to think expansive thoughts, are not feeble, nor passive. Those who hold true to their own intrinsic knowledge are mightier than those who rely upon the knowledge of others.


Post written to Alabama Shakes – Hold On

Born Sinner


I remember when I received the news. It was early, one Sunday morning, I was still in my pink flannel nightgown, the one with white lace trim. And if memory serves, I was playing with paper dolls. I was five, and  feeling pretty good about myself until I heard the man on the TV declare that we’re all born sinners.

I couldn’t imagine how such a thing could be true. I was young but I knew the basics: Jesus was a really important fella, and God was even more important than he. I also knew if I made God angry, there’d be hell to pay – literally.

But now this? I’d only just gotten here. How could this have happened? I hadn’t even called one person a bad name, nor pocketed one unpaid for candy bar, and yet somehow I had already sinned. My mind reeled. How did a sin manage to sneak into my life without me even noticing? The thought made me wonder if any other sins had snuck into my life without me noticing. I felt doomed. If I didn’t fix things, I’d land in the place where bad people go: h-e-double hockey sticks. I was a marked woman. We were all marked from the get go. At least that’s what the man on TV said.

The world suddenly felt complicated. I went from feeling good about myself to feeling bad. I was told we were made in God’s image. But if we were born sinners, then wouldn’t that mean God was a sinner as well. Or so this was how I posed the question years later to my mother. She didn’t have any real answers. I remember her saying something about sex and something about Adam and Eve. My mind reeled even more. But God created Adam and Eve and gave them free will. God also created sex: the act, the creation that comes afterward, the whole kit and kaboodle. How could any of it be deemed a sin? And by whom? Who decided this? And why was I to blame for something someone else did? My mother listened to a litany of questions when I was a preteen. But I needed things to make sense. And thus my research of theology began. I needed answers. I didn’t like the concept that I had done something wrong, and should feel bad if I didn’t adhere to someone else’s guidelines to set it right.

After many years, and much research, I found my own religion. My religion is the one that rests within my soul. I decided a long time ago that if I was made in God’s image, then I was just fine the way I was – as was God. There have been quite a few gifted teachers that have walked this earth; their words spoken to help guide and instruct; words, I feel, that have been terribly maligned and twisted to suit the needs of others. Whenever someone has a vested interest in my beliefs or the beliefs of others, I question their words. To that end, I often question myself. Doing so is how I keep myself on the right road. But the road is one I engineer and create. I really don’t believe in sin. If I did I’d say it should be a sin to force one’s beliefs upon another. We aren’t all on the same journey. We aren’t all walking toward the same end. There isn’t one, right way. The way is for us to decide. Finding the way is why we are here.

The threat of hell can’t be used to frighten me anymore, the way it was when I was a child. Because as I’ve grown I realized that hell is not a destination, it’s a state of mind and reality many  of us have lived through during our lifetime. I don’t need to be judged by anyone, but me. And if pointing out the destructive nature inherent to this act of condemning someone as a sinner, someone who emerged due to the  miracle of childbirth – then call me a sinner.


Blog written to, Itchin on a Photograph by Grouplove

Speaking My Language


There are nearly 7,000 different languages spoken in the world today. According to the Ethnologue, the encyclopedic reference of known languages, this number translates into about one language for every 862,000 people on earth. So many different verbal expressions. Yet, there is one language universal to all, and that is the language of the soul.

Feelings are the way the soul communicates. And it does so with two absolute and sovereign emotions: love and fear. All other emotions fall under one of these two life altering and life dictating emotions.

When operating under the emotion of love, the soul opens, expands and thusly, so does one’s mind; like a flower, nourished and exposed to the sun – the person as a whole blossoms. The opposite is true when operating under fear; all emotional faculties withdraw; the mind shuts down, the heart closes. The person as a whole wants to hide.

I’ve been thinking a great deal about these two emotions as of late. The one thing that strikes hard against my heart upon the thought, is how due to the vulnerability of love, rarely is it fully expressed. Like a weed growing aside the flower, with roots deep and overpowering, fear sits too close to love. Once we feel and give our love, fear follows. Fear of rejection, fear of approval, fear of judgement, fear of abandonment. Fear does all it can to choke the life from love. And it often succeeds.

In an attempt to protect ourselves from a pain that hasn’t yet arrived, many project outward their fears. Things that haven’t yet happened, are made tangible and forced into reality, long before they’ve had a chance to arrive of their own accord. If left alone, if left unencumbered, I have to wonder if those fearful things would’ve come to light. Loving under the guise of fear is much like getting into one’s car, heading toward one’s paradise, yet stopping half way for concern of what things might look like once arriving. It’s like standing on stage, ready to sing one’s song of a lifetime, yet only singing it half way for fear of not hitting the high note.

I don’t want to love half way. I don’t want to live half way. I’ve made a conscious decision over these last few months to either love and live fully, or not at all. If I can’t love without fear creeping in and shading my perception, then the problem rests solely with me. Imagine what life would be like if everyone lived without fear. They would give freely, never fearing their own scarcity. They would give attention to others, never fearing abandonment. Whether we understand it or not, the language of the soul is the language that moves us all. Fear sits on the polar opposite end of love. Their commonality is in their power.


Written to Trembling Hands by The Temper Trap

Last Bit of Energy


I have a slew of shortcomings – some – more serious than others. One of those many shortcomings has intensified over the course of the last week. Embarrassingly, I must confess to spending a great deal of my energy draining the last drop of juice (scientific term), from batteries.

At present, the batteries in my toothbrush and television remote are stretching the boundaries of electrical feasibility and common-sense expectation. Powered by what has to be only electrical vapors, my toothbrush now intermittently cuts out while using it. I whack the toothbrush on the bathroom counter hoping to jar loose the last remaining particle of chemical energy stored inside. And while using the TV remote, I’ve now taken to wielding my arm around wildly while pressing brutishly on the buttons. Hand to God – I’ve met with some success using both of these methods.

It’s not just that the batteries are expensive. Its more than that. Although, I will say, I’m not fond of dropping a small fortune on a small, but heavy, bag of batteries. But that’s not it. The problem is I don’t care for the whole process of replacing the batteries.  Best case scenario: one good pop and the little trap-door opens, the old batteries tumble onto the floor or they get pried from their little cocoon with my fingernail. Worst case scenario: discovering that dreaded, almost invisible screw that seals the battery door closed, and subsequently, impenetrable to those that do not have, readily available, an itsy bitsy screwdriver.

I would think I’d be eager to swap out the old batteries. The thrust of life that surges through the toothbrush once its humming on fully loaded batteries is reason enough to prematurely change them. But no. I patiently wait, allowing time for a slow, agonizing death. Finally, once the battery has coughed up its last spittle of energy, I reluctantly wriggle the cap from the bottom of the toothbrush. Taking the appropriate time to clean the dried toothpaste from places near impossible for it to travel, I replace the batteries (placing them upside down before placing them right side up), then beat the tar out of the toothbrush for about ten minutes in an attempt to get the cap back on. After utilizing Hercules-like strength, I finally succeed; pushing the button, the brush springs to life.

I should try, for a while, living life fully charged. Doing so would require breaking some well ingrained bad habits, but I think it would be worth a try. It seems though, I would rather waste my energy, which is better used for other pursuits, than (God forbid), waste the few drops of energy left in a battery about the size of my pinky. Knowing this about myself though – I think I’m going to change my ways.