Thursday, September 3, 2015

and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman,
not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn

Thursday, August 27, 2015

all you need is love

This song, so ubiquitous, so seemingly simple, is so very brilliant and so very true. Whenever I listen, really listen to the words, I get a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. It perfectly captures the unbearable lightness of being, the very essence of everything that is good and difficult and simple and real and right and true. So very easy and yet so very hard.

I just read this fact about the writing of the song and it makes me love John Lennon more (I've always been a George fan, you know, when asked who my favourite Beatle is).

When asked in 1971 whether songs like "Give Peace a Chance" and "Power to the People" were propaganda songs, he answered: 'Sure. So was All You Need Is Love. I'm a revolutionary artist. My art is dedicated to change.

The song has once again become poinagant to me, not just because I love it for it's familiarity and the general understand of it's lyrics. It matters to me now because i feel like I am standing on the edge, the gravel running out from under my toes, so very near to leaping. letting go and letting what is, actually is, be present. 

Tuesday, August 25, 2015


As I was walking back to the office, slice of chocolate cake in hand, I heard a baby crying. Urgently. The particular tones of this baby's cries grated on my nerves. I read somewhere once that babies are biologically wired to get on our nerves, it's how they survive. I would say this is true. Nerves, plus love. Lots and lots of love. Nothing sets my heart racing quite so fast as the cries of my children or the particular tone of disappointment in D's voice when I've said or done something stupid again.

I feel stuck. And lost. Lost and Stuck. There are so many contradictions for each and every feeling that I have. I don't know how to proceed or which step to take.

I feel irritated by the cries of my children in the night and so sad that they are no longer babies. What will I do with my time when I no longer have cries to respond to?

I feel so, so angry and I am so in need of forgiveness.

Saturday, January 10, 2015

On writing

I have grappled with writing in some way or another my whole life. Well, since I learned to write and be, 14 years old. I kept a journal for 7 years. A neat, eclectic little stack of books developed in my room and moved with me to Peteborough when I was 19 and then from apartment to apartment around that precious city. It's now been about 7 years since I stopped writing on a regular basis. From the best I can remember, I stopped writing because I felt like I was spinning in circles. Writing the same stories of anxiety and heartbreak over boys and who I was. It wasn't helping me and I was tired of talking. So I even stopped talking to myself in this particular way. There's no point in wondering now if it was a detriment to me or is what it is. But now I see that writing is something that I need to do. It helps me to feel clear and calm in myself. No matter how repetitive it may sound or how poor of a writer I fear I am. It doesn't matter. It's for me. And maybe my children one day.

I love to read about the everyday lives of others and it helps me to not feel so alone in the world at times. And isn't that one of the most important parts of being human? To know and be known? To help others not feel so alone in this this life?

My mind is often a mess...fumbling around, trying to please and understand and communicate all it's passion and messiness. And so my writing will be the same. I will stop waiting for the perfect moment or the perfect pen or insisting on consistency. There will be writing in books, on this blog, in my phone, in my day planner, in letters to loved ones and notecards to everyone.

I'm 31 years old and I can tell you this about myself: I am much better at writing than I am at speaking. Trust me.
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