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The Ability to Love

Posted by on 9:13 pm in A day in the life of..., Blog | 0 comments

The Ability to Love

Galaxies. I lay in bed talking about galaxies the other day and thought of you. There is so much unknown. So much our own human brains cannot comprehend of the afterlife, the before life and the cosmic consciousness that may possibly exist out there within the cosmos. You were here, so many years ago. There’s evidence – I check for it regularly. You held me, protected me and taught me to love. I think as I write this I’m actually joyful – for you gave me the most absolute treasure – the ability to love. I learned, at a very young age to give of my heart and never question. Your freedom of expression and kindness transferred into my blueprint.

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33 Years ago

Posted by on 12:40 pm in A day in the life of..., Blog | 0 comments

33 Years ago

33 years ago today I was awaken by my father. His stiff posture sitting without commitment on the side of my bed. Worry dusted his brow giving his olive complexion one of ash. His posture turned in and hunched – one of defeat. The room was still. I heard faint cries from the other room, like baby birds. It took me a moment, but I soon recognized those cries as my brothers. (more…)

Small Shoulders

Posted by on 8:43 pm in A day in the life of..., Blog | 0 comments

Small Shoulders

I hug myself under my cold blankets recognizing the size of my own shoulders. Small, smaller than I had thought. My body pulled tight into a ball. I feel my future reflect itself against the window. It stares back at me with an exhale. “I know” I tell it. “It’s OK.” I am suddenly aware of my own aloneness. My solidarity. I will be this way for a while. As a child I was described as a social butterfly. Now, I swim in a dark ocean, still a butterfly, yet without use for my wings. My small shoulders curled in against the tides, protecting what is left of my heart. (more…)

A Collection of Tiny Words

Posted by on 9:04 am in Blog, Poetry | 0 comments

A Collection of Tiny Words

As part of my Buddhist studies I’ve been writing Haiku poems. At first is was just to be silly and share with friends. Now I find the practice a bit like a time stamp on what is going on – whether in my thoughts or in reality. It helps keep me present and appreciate that moment. Here’s what I’ve done so far. (more…)

Assorted Writings from the Sky — leaving NYC

Posted by on 7:40 pm in A day in the life of..., Blog | 0 comments

Assorted Writings from the Sky — leaving NYC

On breathing:

All I can do is just breathe
No other equipment is available
Breathe
Know that the universe has this
I could fight and cause a war
But at what cost?
Breath is my only weapon (more…)

Assorted Writings from the Sky — to NYC

Posted by on 6:45 pm in A day in the life of..., Blog | 0 comments

Assorted Writings from the Sky — to NYC

On being hopeful:

Radiating circles encase my heart
Slowly pulsing colours of yellow and orange
Dashed lines allow for light to seep within my core (more…)

Stars

Posted by on 12:18 am in A day in the life of..., Blog | 2 comments

Stars

Not so long ago, I looked upon the stars above. They moved me so deeply, that I stumbled and had to catch my breath. These stars were not the city or suburban stars I had gotten used to; these were enchanting stars — ones whose presence could only be described as heavenly. Stars layered upon the universe like tiny little boats that sailed gently with the wind. Like Lord Buddah himself, calmly existing, resisting nothing.

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I’ve Got This

Posted by on 11:31 am in A day in the life of..., Blog | 0 comments

I’ve Got This

When the sky opens up and the light comes in, it’s impossible to stop it. Any hard outer shell that was protected by the dark will eventually become weathered and scaled away in the heat and sun.

Knowing this, I’ve been fighting with myself. My recent internal argument about exposing my heart to this flood of light has been quite the cerebral debate. Months ago I would have preached a method of self preservation — an existence pickled in time, behind a thick glass wall. After all, at first glance, it seems a safe way to preserve one’s heart – by simply floating and observing one’s surroundings, never to be touched.

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Corner Desk

Posted by on 1:21 pm in Blog, Free at 41 - a writer's notebook | 1 comment

Corner Desk

That corner desk still sat there after all these years, tucked perfectly against the angled walls. It seemed like a wedge holding up the house’s foundation. The pale beach-coloured veneer reminded me of one’s face before they puke. Still, despite its pale sickly complexion, the desk allowed a flood of happy memories to come back.

It was exactly 32 years ago I stood in this room. I was an overweight, greasy-haired kid with such sadness it seemed to turn my skin that same sickly hue as the desk. I had become motherless. Cervical cancer had taken my mother in the night – a grueling process for anyone to watch, especially a child. That was so many years ago.  Now I stand here at 41, shaking my head and wondering why the fuck my father has kept this room like this. Like a snapshot in time, that damned corner desk still stood there quietly, like a veteran, in its spot. (more…)

A Clink of Ice

Posted by on 10:26 pm in Blog, Free at 41 - a writer's notebook | 0 comments

A Clink of Ice

A Clink in my Glass

You need to calm down” I heard my friend say to me. Genuine concern furrowed in her brow and caused an instinctual hollowing in my chest. Immediate guilt found safe harbour in solar plexus. I was up here as her gestured hand suggested.  I needed to come down.

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