Experiences in adult potty training, a reflection on the little moments that shape us.
Invite a man in to taste this space, And he better know how to tread light, Respectful. This is a womb of intuition, A woman cave. Honor the hand prints on the wall. This mind, this delicately sculpted grace, Years in the making, Thoughts carefully aligned, Boundaries steadily defined, Words meticulously chosen, To share honest … Continue reading A Work of Solitude
At what point was I supposed to be jaded? Did it pass or is it still to come? Because I remember those elders telling me years ago, teaching me so young About that thing called idealism, and why it won't work And how their skepticism, their worry, might serve me better In the long run. … Continue reading Jaded?
Continued from Back to the Center I was tripping giddy on that post Vipassana high, rolling in the luxury of the simplest pleasures. Like talking. After ten days of silence, laughing felt like an uncontrollable rush. After ten days observing subtle sensations, driving I-5 was a thrilling roller coaster. After sitting so straight and still, … Continue reading Into Silence
Rune stones, like throwing bones, like reading tea or coins or tarot. I’m groping through this bag of smooth clay charms, hoping something else will give me an answer. Our desire for destiny, a divine plan, and our need to break the mystery. Again in transition, always in between it seems. And spun to exhaustion … Continue reading Little Steps
“A story is a meaningful pattern of events. Through finding a story’s shape within your life’s shape, you could know what your life means.” Continued from - "Valli's World, Collooney Ireland" It was 4:45. Something woke me. I think my phone buzzed, and now I had to pee. I ducked out of the mosquito net … Continue reading I Am A Writer
Exploring a hidden Irish glen. (Backtrack to Europe exploration.)
I am developing a roll of forgotten snapshots. I am tracing a dark line over the faded route we took when I was eight, connecting dots of scattered memories that still flash up through layers of time. It’s taken me years to return to this place. It is a good story, one I will write … Continue reading Trapped in Paradise
Just an hour from Union Island, smashing upwind, motoring at three knots, we pulled into the open bay at Mayreau. The flocks of boat boys in their brightly painted launches circled and touched down for just a second, much less insistent than in Chatham Bay. Their easy attitude left me wanting to buy something from … Continue reading Frank the Security Guard
We hiked all over that damn island! Bushwhacking with our loyal stray dogs. Two golden labs who found us on the beach and followed us all day. Compared to the rest of the island dogs they were bigger, whiter, furrier and seemingly more civilized. (Except when the young male snatched and crushed a baby chick … Continue reading Bushwacking Union Island