The Wonders Never Cease

What a beautiful colorful tree


The Sea Is An Abstract Artist

The way she offers her creative gifts to the shore truly feels like a work of art.  As I walk along the ocean I come across shapes, natural and even trash objects that she has released from her hold.  They are all so beautiful.  Looking at the way things wash up and temporarily land is a form of meditation for me.  The tiniest details bring me a sense of amazement at the spontaneity of life.  How is it possible that pieces of shells and sea grasses could mingle in such beautiful composure?  


Self Reflection

I have come to trust nature to show me more about who I am.  Because I am always wanting to be in alignment with my most true self.  I rely on nature quite often to show me the things I cannot see while inside myself.  If I just sit beside the ocean I can find out how at peace I am.  If my mind races or tells me I should leave because of the many other things I must do, I know I am disconnected from my essential nature.  


On Fearlessness

Oh the painful last minute decision

OK I will do it

It's the enetering fully into the now with an all in yes

when you don't know what will happen

but you care

more about finding out than not

You are ready, ripe

sometimes hallowed out so much, raw

and need something to fill you so badly that you venture in

to a new realtionship with life and the moment you are in

rather than the ones which have past or are yet to come

your heart might quake, maybe your belly aches, but you say yes

because something bigger than your own doubts has asked that you show up

and you will not disappoint that voice any longer

for you have missed far too many

things that wanted you


Just a poem


What calls me back...

Old boyfriends that fit like puzzle pieces.

Old jeans still hanging there.

Taunting me each morning.

How perfect you were

That romantic walking I did all around New York city

Where buzzing sounds made me feel not so alone.

That muddy moonlight dance I didn't do.

That park bench I left too soon,

Before I was joined by a new friend I was destined to meet

Who may well have changed the course of my life forever.

What calls me here...


Perhaps only this comfortable chair

To take my bra off

And let go

Of trying.

The what ifs and not sos that the beckoning breeze

does not care about.

I keep the disappointments in pretty boxes

To remember them fondly

Only once every few years

And then put them back in their flowery boxes

That shut very tight

What moves me...

Through years

Is the gentle massage of pains

And relaxing of impatient dreams

The flexible bound to no outcome me

May or may not always be home

At times she is out to dance with angels

Or mermaids

Far out at sea

At times.

But pray you don't find her asleep

In a pile of sulky memories

Pray they have all been stored carefully

In the mix of memories

In a box that she looks at


Once every few years.

Rather, may she contemplate

Important matters

Like dancing barefoot in the mud

Or not.



Coming Together

 Thank Goddess for women's circles

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