H.O.P.E-- Have Optimism, Patience, and Entitlement

I always get very hopeful at the end of one thing and the beginning of the next
The unlimited potential of this vague, shapeless, unspoiled thing to become anything you want it to be is simply incredible

I am the eternal optimist
I carry that weight in all of my relationships, in my professional life, in my passions and in my person
I consciously try to plant hope in others because I believe that having hope is stronger than having a plan, or a goal, or a way
Having genuine hope means that even if you don't succeed you don't ever truly fail- there is always a tomorrow
Sometimes that hope-filled tomorrow is all you truly have and miraculously, it is enough
The chance to try again, the right your wrongs, to be the 'you' you've always wanted to be and always knew existed,
Having that chance and making the most of it is at the essence of life's journey

2009 was filled with heaviness and anxiety
The constant threat of some large or small scale doom seemed closer this year than others past but I've been repeatedly reminded that I am blessed and I remain grateful

I am grateful, and happy, and very, very hopeful

Looking back at this year I remember the times when hope was all I seemed to have and it was enough, it brought me through
Looking into the year to come I feel excited- and a little nervous but, all in all, thoroughly hopeful in whatever wondrous possibilities lie ahead

I know there will be trials and tribulations, victories and defeat, but as long as hope remains- with hope-filled tomorrows, even if it is all that I’ll have, it will be enough

It's time

New things.
It's time for the next step...the next level up...forward movement...progression.
It's time to leave old things behind, conquer new heights, discover new loves and likes and yearnings.
It's time to take the leap of faith and boldly go where fear or distraction prevented you from going before.
It's time to stop settling and acknowledge that better is what you want and deserve.
It is time.

April 6, 2007

ADDENDUM
Still in that moment, still on the very edge of that time.

the pain of waiting

Two weeks to embrace my fragility and all of my shortcomings
to realize with chest-aching clarity that I love her and I love him and I'm not ready to leave them yet
to begin bargaining for more time
time to say things and teach things and see things and be things
and to make plans for ifs and whens and hows
to go places and do things so memories will linger even as I fade
to impress upon her the remarkable woman I know she'll become and to assure him of the incredible man I always knew he would be
to show him how to comb her hair and dress her warm and sit with her until she forgets about the darkness and the bad thoughts and finally goes to sleep

bargaining for time to remember dreams and chastise myself for not realizing them all
for only half-heartedly acknowledging that life is too short and it's not promised and we have to live it fully

Every moment of my life now seems magnified, clear and in amazing technicolor detail every mistake, every accomplishment
every smile or tear

I've done so much and I've been so much, good and bad and in between but there is still so much left to do, to have, to be, good or bad or in between
and there is still love to share and to receive
and people to tell that they mean everything, especially her and especially him

How do I begin? Where do I begin?
Two weeks feels like an eternity...but it also just feels like two weeks.

prayer

Often I struggle with what to say, how to say it, finding something to say at all
but I never want to get quiet with You, I never want to take You for granted
You inspire me, You enrich me, You give me so much joy
We talk at moments when there is so much to say that words seem to fail me and You always show me that You hear everything that my heart says
I am so grateful to You and I hope to be worthy of everything You've given me and continue to give me
You give me peace and strength and understanding and when need be You give me time to stop and breathe and see that there is another way
I thank You and I thank You and I can't thank You enough
In grace and mercy and with great humility I praise you
Thank You for being my rock and my shield and my safe place
-amen-

rhetorical

do you remember when we were just starting out unaware of all the things we'd fail at but so, so sure we were going to do everything we wanted; be the people we just knew we were meant to be; live lives based on snippets of the good ones lived by others?
where did we go?
we were so filled with every kind of bravery, so strong, so straight and convinced that life would wait for us to correct all of the mistakes we made- give us second and third chances to get it right. we were wise without wisdom, experienced without having really lived, all-knowing without knowing anything at all but we were so sure.
where did we go? when did we become us- this us- the us with experiences good and bad and ugly, the us with scars and fears and hesitation that stops us from leaping off of tall buildings believing we could fly or daring to dream while we are awake?
where did we go?
when did we become these people who pay bills, and go to work, and raise children? when did we begin asking where did we go?
my recollections of yesterday vary daily; sometimes they seem so far away and sometimes i am that me from twenty years ago. she inhabits my spirit and i am fierce and free and i remember that girl who was going to live fully and have it all. she smiles wide smiles and is less guarded- i envy her everything- she still has choices and time.
where did we go?

gratitude

Courage doesn't always have to roar,
Sometimes courage is just a quiet voice at the end of the day saying-
"I will try again tomorrow."

I thank YOU for the gifts and the muses, I thank YOU for blessings and mercies, and I thank YOU for always reminding me- when I'm at my highest or at my lowest low- that once there is tomorrow there is that chance to do it all again and in that chance lies the opportunity to get it right.

ashe

moving on

diagonally, sideways, up, down
moving on
no longer standing still
seeking change, progression
abandoning stagnation, regret, remorse and fear
no longer standing still
taking no old baggage with me
new adventures await
no longer standing still
just me and my God-gifts
my head front, my back straight
no longer standing still
feeling the rush of blessing and inspiration reawakened
sensing a change in the old guard of resignation and complacency
no longer standing still
ascension, no more spinning in mud
promotion, no backward glances
realization of the destiny pre-written
no longer standing still
i'm moving on

...the one about the bird

there was a busy, little bird
who was never satisfied
it ate and ate the joys of others
it ate so much it died

you shouldn't eat such joy you see
when it doesn't belong to you
the bird it seems was ignorant
it lacked that simple truth

misery is all around
so much of it to spare
happiness, true joy in life
is scarce most everywhere

if you find joy, glad tidings too
and love above it all
don't eat it all from its rare source
for doom's your eventual reward

you'll never be full or half content
if you eat greedily
from life's reserves of peace and love,
joy and harmony

to the rest of greedy birds
let this warning be your last
stop eating of this joyous soul
or
i'll get in that ___!!!


Dedicated to all those intent on consuming all of the joys of other people to feed their own never ending misery and discontent. STOP STUFFING YOUR FAT FACE!!

me...now

The mirror doesn’t lie
Not unless the viewer manifests a falsehood

My face is still my own but I see age there
Subtly sneaking in, creasing the corners, dimming the gloss

My smile is mine but I recognize sincerity there
I laugh now when I truly want to and not when I feel I must

My eyes are still bright but they too show signs of passing time
They’ve seen so much, they’ve cried so many tears yet they miraculously open every morning and greet each day with gratitude

My body has begun that dance, that slow groove of aching joints and labored movement
I marvel at the quantity of frailties I discover
What once was smooth and shapely, soft and supple is now …less so
Vanity really is a difficult task
I’ve become increasingly enamored with comfort

In my mirror I see my scars, my life’s tutorials my memos to myself still resonate, the list of do’s and don’ts, yeses and no’s are etched into every small line, every callous, every pore, but I’ve lived

I look at those who haven’t reached to where I am and I remember what the time is like
I don’t envy, I’m content that I’ve had my time
I look to those who are well beyond where I am now
I pray to have their grace in my journey
I strive to enjoy my now

I’m happy to say that were it all to dissolve tomorrow, were it all to fade away, vanish in a quick puff of smoke- the feel of my skin, the stories in my scars, the rise and fall of every new curve of my ever evolving body, the creases that frame my eyes, the width of my smile
They all tell the story that I’ve lived
And I’ve lived well.

The girl smiled as she looked at an old photograph of her mother and father nuzzled cheek to cheek, mouths and eyes smiling back at her. They were no doubt tipsy off of the New Year's wine shared at the party the picture captured. Or maybe they were just in love...then. That picture was before baby one and baby two, before real arguments where unforgivable and unforgettable words were thrown into the world; Before other women and the crushing weight of family opinion; Before idle thoughts of the possibility of a life apart took root and resentment spurned its fevered growth. In that photo though, there was love.
She knew the reality of their lives together, at least the reality her mother shared, still many days she would find herself sitting cross-legged on the living-room floor staring intently at the faces of her mother and father and family members, known and unknown, surrounding her from old albums and carelessly strewn loose photos. She would gaze lovingly at their pictures wishing for another life, one in which they remembered their love. Why didn't they remember how perfect they were together?
Her favorite picture was one in which her father wrapped his big arms around her mother’s tiny waist. They were holding each other playfully as if they just shared a tasty secret. Her mother's eyes were closed and she was laughing. Her father's eyes were bright as he looked at the camera. His smile contained all the happiness in the world. They fit. They were perfect. They were one. She smiled at how easily they loved each other. She thought of how they must have met and how they fell in love, of how they made their love into a living, breathing thing and named it Eve. The embodiment of everything good about them, created to always remind them of the love they had for each other.
She'd think of her parents and this mythic love for years. She held on to her yearning for their reconciliation until her chest would hurt with longing. She never fully realized that childhood wishes too long coveted misshapes reality. Her parents couldn't be more different. The seemingly only thing they had in common was that they loved her and even within that they were different. Her mother's love was free and encouraging; her father's stern and filled with conditions. No matter. To her they were the still the beautiful, smiling people in the photographs and she created an ideal of love nothing could ever realistically match.
She dreamed of a man who’d love her just so and fill her with so much giddiness she'd dance the entire day with just the thought of seeing him. A man who would kiss her and make her knees go weak. Wasn’t that how it was in movies? A man who'd love her more with each day; There’d be so much love between then that they too would create their own living, breathing thing in which to place all the extra love they shared. If life was kind and long-held prayers answered, there was nothing for her to do but wait. Her love would come and they’d live, as it should be, ever after.

Sitting alone, curled up in one corner of her couch, staring at her own wedding-day photograph many years later, Eve wistfully remembered the two people staring back at her. Happy and beautiful, smiling and in love. Where did they go? Her focus on the picture shifted and she caught her own reflection in the glass front of the picture frame. She touched her face. What happened to you? She pulled her cheeks upward until they were so taunt her eyes were forced to close. She released her cheeks and saw herself once again. Her sigh was long and heavy. She focused her gaze on the man in the photograph. His smile was so bright and wide. There seemed to be genuine happiness there. It was a look so foreign to him now. They shared a home and little else. Strangers, who barely spoke, who greeted each other with averted eyes and questions about bills and baby duty and making sure their schedules aligned to present the appearance of unity. This was what life was now and joy had no place. Voices and faces flashed in her mind as her head rolled slowly backward coming to rest so her eyes looked skyward. How did it get to this? How did we get so lost from each other? She thought back to when they met, fifteen years ago, at a party held by mutual friends. She thought back to their early days together. There were five-hour conversations about nothing, deep and fraught with meaning. They laughed easily then. He called her ‘my love’ and she called him ‘baby’. They spoke about the children they’d have. He wanted a girl who looked just like her and she, five little, dimpled boys all as handsome as their father and who’d love and protect her as much as he’d promised to.
A tear rolled from her eye so quickly she didn’t have time to catch it before it fell. She was surprised- she didn’t think she had any tears left to cry for him, for herself, or for them. For fifteen years, they built the foundation of their personal and professional lives together and around each other, and three years ago their little girl was born. More tears fell as she thought of their daughter. The child looked and acted so much like him, Eve would often stare at her, mesmerized by the likeness. Eve’s eyes once again fell on her wedding photograph and her eyes trailed along the other photographs all in a neat line next to the wedding portrait stationed atop the fireplace. She stood and walked over to the pictures and saw it there; the old photograph of her mother and father hugging and laughing, her father’s big arms around her mother’s tiny waist. Fresh tears fell, and heaving sobs wracked her shoulders. Sadness poured out of her like a bottle whose cork had come undone. Long, deep sobs, such eloquent sadness, leaving her folded into herself at the foot of the fireplace clutching her mother and father’s picture to her chest as though she were drowning and it was the only thing that kept her afloat. Where did she go wrong? Wasn’t she enough to keep his love past fifteen years? Wasn’t what they had here something of value, something worthwhile? There weren’t any answers.
The last tear made its way onto her blouse and her sobs finally subsided. She pulled herself up and gently wiped her eyes with her free hand and with the other she placed her parent’s photograph back to its rightful place among her memories of happier times and different people.
She walked over to the dining table and sat down, her gaze focused intently on the blue and white folded letter. She slid her hand into the fold to reopen the letter and her fingers found the pen lying splayed across the paper where she’d left it earlier. Her eyes glazed over the form and the words marriage, dissolution, separate, divorce, seemed larger than all the others on the page. She sighed again, deeply, fully. She turned toward the kitchen, her eyes desperate for solace. Just then a sliver of sunlight found its way through the clouds and through her kitchen window. She rose and walked directly to it. She stood totally still, eyes closed, neck ached upward as the sunlight caressed her face. For the first time in a long time she smiled and felt happiness and warmth. For the first time in a long time she felt that love would one day come again.

you and i

You and I know
No one may understand
But you and I do
No one may approve
But you and I approve each other
And we are all that matter

When we are alone, just us
We are happy, we laugh and talk like children, like lovers
In love
You are all that I need and I am more than simply enough
You have my heart and I have yours

We acknowledge, you and I do
We were created, you and I were
For a divine purpose, and She brings us so much joy
But there is more than the reality of her existence between us, you and I
There is my hand in yours as we sleep, and comforting kisses and embraces after long days, and in the midst of tribulation
There is a secret language and a mutual appreciation for our individual growth, and there is love, and there is care and there is finally time between us, you and I

Time to right wrongs, and time to fall in love again and again, there is time to realize what made us fall in the first place and time for eyes to meet and smiles to break and arms to touch and sparks to fly, we have time, you and I

I can look at you and feel peace, be held by you and know belonging, catch you smiling at me and I thank God for it all, you and I, love, you and I.

(for 'love')

blank january

i
have
no
words