Connecting the Disconnected

When one day I’m done, I won’t search for you 

or indulge myself with fantasies.

I won’t tap into your frequency 

or get charged up reliving memories.

I won’t subject myself to rejection.

I’ll resign the connection,

Without indignation or a broken heart.

I wish I knew where to begin. I’m just gonna cut to the quick. I’m still out of control. Letting my emotions run wild while I try to sort it all out in my head. It all gets jumbled, scrambled, tossed and turned. 

I’m blazed.

Amazed.

Thoughts drift in and out.

In the shadows, I feel your gaze follow me across the room.

Are you receiving me?

What is your perception?

I’m not worried, but I wonder.

You’re sweet... discreet.

I sit in my car and think while my daughter sleeps in the back. Windows down, the wind blows, a live Bluegrass band plays enthusiastically.

Envisioning my future. Playing out different career scenarios. I never set out to be any one thing. I caught a wave and rode it for a long time. I’m not opposed to starting over as long as I keep evolving. I’m just not convinced I NEED to give up one thing to do another. I grapple with letting go.

Grateful for this moment of stillness and reflection. These moments are hard to come by with two kids.

I don’t have it all figured out and I’m trying to make peace with that fact. I’m extremely driven and capable, but I don’t want to squander my time doing something that doesn’t satisfy my soul.

June 15th, 1997

Utter shock, Deep sorrow. The impermanence of tomorrow disturbs me. In an instant Life as we know it changes.

The world seems upside down, Reality bends and warps. Human tragedy and suffering are easy to ignore until it’s at your front door.

It’s not my time, I tell myself. Terrorists will not find me. I am immune to disease. That only happens to other people.

Denial and ignorance are not bliss, It’s survival of the fittest. Do what you must to live. But even then, you cannot control your fate.

Over the last year, so many I have known (or been a few degrees of separation away from) Have died because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. A sudden brain aneurysm, a terrorist attack, murdered crossing the street. I lost my own father to cancer.

My cousin Andrea suggested I do a creative writing exercise to write freely for 15 minutes, without stopping or editing. I don’t think she intended for this to be published, but I’ve decided to anyway. For better or worse, I’m putting it out there.

I took off the mask and buried it deep

a new identity was born.

MOTHERHOOD

strong and vulnerable

powerful and nurturing

the Divine Feminine entered me

and I don’t remember who I used to be.

I often reminisce and blush at the things I said, did, wore.

Is it Motherhood that shifted my perspective or age?

I have a greater sense of self and self-worth.

I’m rediscovering my inner child through the process of raising my own children.

A creative awakening that feels as fragile and raw as a newborn baby.

Inhale. Ex.

Dear Santa,

So sorry I didn’t give you cookies. I was so tired and so was my mom and well, we forgot to put them out. Will you ever forgive me?I made up for it this year. I’ve been good. Nobody’s perfect. I hope you’ll enjoy these cookies ‘cause I made them special for you.

Love,