Monday, November 16, 2015

{ sit gracefully } - yogi. mama. writer. austin, tx.

Sometimes life is not obviously poetic.
It's mundane and robotic.
That's when I know it's time to change.
Time to remember myself.

I slip away to the world all my own.
I go to the memories that bring me strength.
Sitting alone in a restaurant with my book and my Ray Bans.
Walking the sidewalk in New York City in Givenchy without a hand to hold.
Climbing from fear to triumph.

It helps me to think of the times I've been strong.
When I said the words that needed to be heard.
And when I silenced anger that didn't deserve a voice.
I've cried the tears and sat alone.
I can run, I can push myself, and I can smile.

When it's not obvious, I have to dive in.
Today I tasted the sweat from my lip, salty and sweet.
I didn't love everything I saw when I looked close.
No turning away though, I accept.
My strength isn't in creating a change.
My strength is creating grace to be here.

Saturday, October 17, 2015

{ journal entry } - mama. daughter. lover. yogi. austin, tx

It was the scent of fresh cut grass.
I rode to the trail and thought of you the whole time.
If you want to know if this is about you, it is.
Of course it is.

I wrapped myself in a purple cloak and twirled under a massive moon.
I ran away, because I run.
You chased me, or I wished that part perhaps.
Something hit my car as I drove away, I know my heart fell apart.
I picked myself up and began the repair.
Suddenly white all around, sunshine and kisses from heaven all over me.
Dreams in real life, pinch me.
I said "pinch" not "punch."
I claimed you took the floor away but I realize now that all along I'd been in the clouds with you.
No regrets, I'll keep falling from the sky if that's what it takes to fly.
Like tandem skydivers, grab my hands and I'll spiral with you.
We were puddles on the ground that time.
We were passion in the grass another.
I was all alone today.

Monday, October 5, 2015

{ take up my senses } - yogi. mama. lover. writer. witness. austin, tx

The morning was tangerine grey.
A red cardinal broke the colors of the sky and landed on a branch of forest green leaves.
Your flavor is scotch and tobacco.
There are so many textures and I recall each one but hardly have space to record them.
White surrounds me.
I'm eclipsed by the shadows of my own fears and I run away to seek certain pain.
At noon the light had turned yellow.
The cast of life busily acting out chaos while we sought serenity and sleep.
Clouds so fragile.
They looked as if someone had taken a brush and smeared them across an endless blue canvas.
Your warm hand on my waist.
I am Mother and protector, I am Child and irresponsible, I am Survivor and stubborn.
Your gaze pulls me in.
A quick magnetic glance and our eyes lock momentarily, you're the only to make me look away.
Each day holds some powerful second where my world explodes.
Fireworks of life shooting into the air and bursting before my eyes.
Lay down a blanket on this hill, let's watch together.

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

{ perspective change } - yogi. lover. mama. believer. austin, tx.

From a balcony where I sat I watched you.
You were a speck in the ocean, jumping waves and enjoying freedom.
I knew you from the distance because I'd always known you from the distance.
Nothing has changed.
I know you from far away, your energy pushes mine and I fall.
You're still jumping into the waves and you're still free.
I hold you in high regard, even when you've made me insignificant.
Somehow tonight I'm on a balcony and I know you're a speck that should search for me.
I'm here with a spotlight, I've made it so easy, so clear.
Those damn waves you love to jump into, they pull and you crave it.
I tried to be in them with you but you want them alone.
The ocean to yourself.
I walk up the beach and look to the sky.
The white clouds against her blue heart reassure me.
My shoulders are warm and bronze.
I can smell salt, sweetness, and amber.
The sand is gritty between my toes.
This chin of mine held high.
Invisible wings keep me upright.
Each step I push the ground behind me to go forward.
I'm a moving beacon.
I'll be easy to find and hard to reach at this pace.

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

{ what year is this } - yogi. mama. writer. lover. austin, tx

That time. Your porch.
Storms all day.
White shirts. No words.
No regrets.

Yellow flowers. Sandwiches.
Never let me go.
Thunder. A breeze and blanket.
I'm lost.

Because the knot in my throat is so big I can't breathe.
The sting swelling in my nose and eyes from the rush of tears about to spill.
I'm an avalanche and the painful words broke loose the weight I've kept at bay.
There's too much pressure, I issued warning that I was dangerous, that I'm not okay.
You can't yell or push someone like me, this wave will not be stopped.
I'm sorry for what I can't tame, control, or explain.
I offer no apologies for my honesty.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

{ grow up } - yogi. daughter. mama. survivor. austin, tx

I went to sleep last night in a pile of fear and bedsheets.
Before that...
I clutched my body pillow.
The short, synthetic fur soft against my legs.
The well loved stuffing inside crushed under my embrace.
It was too warm to have so much weight, but my cocoon was essential.
The folds of cotton around me held me the way I wanted my mother to as a small child.
My pillow held my head like a soft lap I could trust.
Laying in bed I told myself all the ways to heal.
I coached myself on how to breathe and recite mantra.
Recounted my truth, claimed abundance, and thanked god for support.
Anxiety did not leave me, but my body found peace to relax.
It felt tight when it crawled up my body and into my head.
I wanted to run away, toss my head back, close my eyes, and be finished.
I pressed my palm to my heart and said aloud "you're still needed and everything is fine, breathe."
Worry soaked up the tears from my eyes, took the blush from my cheeks, and put a white hair at my temple.
I was done giving so much to these self sabotaging thoughts.
I drew in breath and heaved out terror.
My muscles became too heavy to hold onto my bones and my weight intensified so that I sank deep into my worn mattress.
If the world consumed me, I'd go down breathing and clawing.

Today I woke up determined to find myself, my strength, my honesty, and my angels.

Sunday, August 30, 2015

{ thinking in words } - yogi. photographer. writer. weirdo. austin, tx

She wrote the words from her heart which her head could not comprehend.
About loss and about living, about affection and about nothing.
She described the feelings and sensations that meant the most to her.
Sometimes she would share everything.
Other times she held it inside like a treasure guarded by a tiny smile, until the words disappeared.
It could be quite poetic and clear.
It could also be vague, enigmatic nonsense.
Could she slow down and savor all the words of each moment?
Lately she wondered, how are so many words lost?
Her mind constantly full of adjectives and experience.
It was time to acknowledge the need for these words.
Not some, few, or the sexy ones.
All the thoughts, celebrations, and fears deserve deep exploration and voice.

Monday, August 24, 2015

{ slap } - yogi. biker. writer. mama. austin, tx

It started with a rainy ride.
White shorts, chambray, and streaming tears.
It's easy to cry in public when it's raining.
Only I knew, because raindrops don't taste like salt dipped heartbreak.
Muddy splashes into my shoes and my ankles covered in dirt.
I'd have thrown myself into a ditch for full emersion if I were back home.
It was foggy and I dove into my penance.
Thank god for the slap.
Verdant leaves heavy with the rain whipped my right shoulder.
I sped up.
A spark of hope.
Light emerging in my darkness.
Old drops fell as leaves could retain no more and released them to cleanse me.
This was my life and the magic air I used to breathe.
Through tunnels and under trains, was I riding or flying?
Something carried me or I was floating.
What I'm sure of is that I let something go.
Something daunting and that did not belong to me.
That sludge was not mine.
I'd have to open up, say it.
The more I share the more I receive.
I don't want to go back to that cave.
I want the grass to brush my legs.
I want the wind to muss my hair.
I want to feel pockets of cool amid the steamy Texas air.
I want to stay awake for this life, no matter what.

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

{ telegraph } - yogi. mama. writer. austin, tx.

Simply quit this torturous routine.
Baby who knows what life will bring?
Knock off the abuse.
Cocoon yourself in lilac, be enfolded in petals of grace.
They touch your skin like liquid velvet.
You're going to be okay, say yes to soothing.
Let the water run through your hair, take in the scent of divinity.
Light is inside you like embers just beneath your skin.
Don't fear your fire, spark it and be warm again.
You can't continue to punish yourself for mistakes, you never deserved that.
Feathers brush against the back of your calves and soles of your feet.
Strength from the wings of curious angels.
Slow down and find your North.
You're not as alone as you feel and someone cares that you hurt.
It wasn't ever right for those things to happen.
Take a soapy rag and remove the barrier.
Toss the whole bloody bucket and rinse the sludge.
You're shiny now.
Don't run from the mirrors.

Monday, August 10, 2015

{ a time ahead } - mama. yogi. writer. austin, tx.

Someday you'll hold your own and know that the stars are in the sky for her.
You'll understand that the sun wakes up to kiss her cheeks and sparkle light upon her shiny hair.
In time you'll see her smile, hear her speak, watch her grow, and your heart will belong to her.
She may break it, bruise it, and test it, but without her it wouldn't work anyway.
Through the pain you'll learn her language and the tears will become elixir.
Tell her she's the reason you're alive and affirm her sweetness.
Never assume that she knows.
Generations have toiled at tearing her apart.
Wrap your arms around her and plant firm kisses on her head.
Look her in the eyes when you say that you love her.
Be her foundation, guide her to see her worth, and never forget how much she needs you.
It will take great strength my love, but there is nothing more valuable in this world or any other.
Her eyes close and night falls, the moon lifts to witness her slumber.
Breezes blow to feel the softness of her skin.
You'll know all of this and you'll still want to give her more.