radial blooming -

Last night I did something that when initially envisioned, scared the living shit out of me. And I did it with grace, ease and zeal and authenticity. No one tells you how scary it is to share your truth, your journey and the path with which you have walked.


Sure it’s easy to elucidate emotional realities through art - it’s what my life’s passion is. To capture the singular effect that is “anger” or “joy” or “passion”. It’s easy. But baring yourself - like unhinging your ribs apart and letting yourself bleed all over the furniture. It sounds poetic and is. But you live it and part of it stings. Burns up your core and incinerates the lies you tell yourself to keep yourself subtle, sane and small.


Honesty is beautiful. It’s real. Visceral, a word I use often and alive. The exaltation is not without work. In other words, you don’t get to make it to the top of the mountain without getting scraped. And maybe this journey will pick at old scabs and tender, blue bruises that never fully healed. We climb, anyways.


There’s a reason why intrepidness isn’t just a brand, but a way of life. It’s more than just a title, it is my swan song. The tune I sing as I climb the ladder of Being. And last night, smiling and laughing among friends, it dawned on me that the view from the mountain top is without a doubt, worth the climb to get here.

dancing flame.

talks of brevity where i am finding the language of grace to describe what is explosive to some; chaotic to many but how do you find the wording to place a stirring that never stops. how can i convey that still waters are my home; a resting place i come to eternally but not until i get my garments a little dirty; not until i ruffle a few feathers and surely not until i watch a burning furry signaling what’s to come in its place. i am positively, hopefully and entirely enamoured by the construct of constructing. building a new and connecting dots for worlds we have yet to see. the midwife to what was forgotten because it simply felt impossible. that is what i do and do best — hop upon my flying disc and whisk myself away to do the work. to fashion something out of nothing and then, and only then can a sanctuary serve me. a resting place is just what it is when every waking moment is declared holy. what’s sacred to an altar? the answer is everything and i am finding the wording to string together daily to position myself to this. what is boundless cannot be contained. this is a declaration to what is eternally free in you and me.

A momentary mingling.

I turn my head thinking the clock reads 7:77pm - a trick of the eye gate.The temperature sits comfortably at 77 degrees and the time actually reads 7:07. The wood grain of my old Toyota is scratched and worn and I start to recall every tick and nick on the body of this dashboard. I sway into nostalgia for a time not too long ago when the smile on my face was of a permanent hue at the thought of your name … it’s a wonder how a few words can make wild what was once tame. In my heart lives a tenderness for those I’ve loved true, names I’ve called while in this very car and the stories we’ve told each other. It’s quite a pain to miss what was so fresh and yet a clean slate was what was best. As my fingers trace my rose colored lighter, I wonder what causes the residue to stain the insides of a heart? In all it’s gold and emerald glory, what causes an uproaring of bad blood and an even worse attitude to tear away what is nourishing and holy? I’ll never ever understand. And as I sit, skin balmy under the humid moonlight I waft into another place: a silent innerstsnding, that what once will never be. but what is coming gallops to me, and in a greater form — you will never lose when you shine in the glory of all that you’ve been shown.

the ground ate my crystal.

I fed the famished ground a crystal

under a tree that lives behind my home.

This is no allegory

Nor is this a metaphor

But a retelling, a narration

of how what lives

is beyond what we believe life to be.

These successions and crying out

Isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

So on that sweltering summer day

When the ground swallowed up

The Malachite I gave to a friend

And I dug and dug to find it again,

I heard a whisper from a cloud

Confessing that the soil was asking for me.

And in the many days I sat silently under this tree

Helped it form a kinship with me.

So when that very friend gifted me

that forgotten luminous green stone

thickened with speckles

the tree living in my backyard back home

lined with its vigorous soil, rejoiced.

And swallowed up that jade emblem, whole.

What am I grateful for? Who do I stain my face with age for? That furrowed brow for a past that can only be found tucked behind my forehead. I am thankful and it shows up in my walk. The way I sway in this endless swinging. I am thankful and it shows up in my laugh: is the last one I’ll ever have that hits this deep? I am thankful and it reveals itself in the tenderness of my touch. Yet my grip is so loose. I am thankful and it shows in my speech, stains my sheets and leaves a lipstick ring around a wine glass. gratitude, dripping, is what grounds me. So I sing a song only swans can sway to and I tip toe on this earth like she is a respite. I tread light.

2am.

‪Look back, forward and within — in all radial directions. Will your vision to your past and kiss the feet of those who walked before you. Bless their journey and their souls. Direct your vision to where you will catapult. Fling yourself with no avail, heart cavity open, and plummet towards your endless forever. Carve the newer spaces through the sheer power of your focus. And then settle, settle slowly and softly to the inner vision, the now-mindedness and look around you. Let the air waft through your finger tips and savor the flavor of right now. And right now. And right now.‬

I am a part of a reality that is unfortunately willing and ready to blunt any form of authentic self expression. it’s too loud. too emotional. too sensitive. & I foolishly, thought the remedy for that was closed mouths, hushed demeanor and shy outward appearance and I realize that my heart and soul are way too complex and garbled for that. I am such an anomaly and a contradiction and sometimes a person who demands a lot emotionally but that is simply because I typically wear my heart on both of my sleeves. I am so happily sensitive and empathetic and easily affected but that also means I am alive and willing experience the ever evasive expanding events of life. the human beating hearts around me. I want to feel touch and have the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I want to laugh till I can’t breathe and I want love flowing so that mine may as well. restrictive has never been befitting to me and at almost 24 I realize the person I am no longer requires herself to make room for that shit anymore. little hearts and minimized feelings are a thing of the past. openness and authenticity and sincerity, all summer 2016 + beyond.