Fear’s Come, Knocking

I rise early As pain wakes me, it is impatient to begin. It’s burning in my leg. I’m despondent, knowing Fear’s come, knocking Licking up my tears, FEAR holds me tight, Comforts, As I sit with her.  I know FEAR Like an old friend. I’ve never known much else, than this devilish companion. My heart…

Life is not Pass or Fail: A Mother’s Day Remembrance

I have always seen “weakness” as a defect and here on this blog I say a lot about what I consider to be my own weaknesses – the narrative playing in my head and here on these pages for years has been a fear that I am too broken and weak to be useful at all….

Stop Being Afraid: A letter to Us All

This will be short, a letter to the Artist inside us all but especially to me, and the Artist that I’ve been afraid to become. I’ve been thinking. I’m electrified with the current state of affairs, I know how lucky I am to have space even a few hours every day to make art. I’ve…

Dancing with the Holy: On Being Broken, Spiritually Mended and Called

It was holy—it was so intimate, so exquisite and precious, that to put it down in words here for you will diminish it immediately. That is the nature of being Spiritually Mended. There I was, clinging. I came with a cavernous pain, my need was huge. I came saying to myself I’m broken into pieces. I’m useless.  But isn’t that…

One Day: On Suicide, On Melancholy, On Living … On

It is a silent crucible brimming with ache, mostly inside. If you haven’t experienced true melancholia be glad. And it’s okay to be glad for some who have gone through cancer and depression say they’d take cancer over the adversary of depression which is really astounding. It is difficult to explain and the only reason…

Living a Life Worthy of Writing. It’s Complicated

It is Virginia Woolf who is credited with the notion that for most of history anonymous was a woman. I thought of that yesterday when a friend (who is more like a mentor) was intently praising me on my writing and expressed that I should continue. Then she said, “Perhaps you should write under a…

A Bad Poem About My Sobriety

SOBER. Antonyms: alcoholic, drinker, drunk, lush, souse, wino I’m Sober today. But I’m clutching at it. And not contentedly. Control is an illusion. I’m powerless, that I can confess. Today, when the whole thing, my duct-taped heart, feels like it’s falling apart and I’m heart racing tired, knowing I should never get.this.way. I think, “If I could I’d smoke then, … What?” But the broken down lungs no longer cooperate. I want…

Free To Love One Another or Afraid to be Free?

“if you loved me you’d let me die…” I went with a reluctant, heavy expectation to the Maundy Thursday service. My child’s words ringing in my ears.  My need was great. It hit me, sitting there.  I was in the middle of the Community of God, but felt utterly alone.  And it was all my fault. For I have…

The Writing Life, the Power of Voice

Life is pathways that become our Story; where we meet the Holy One and God renews us.  These realities run parallel to one another, making life unbelievably complex. I am a woman, a mother, daughter, and sister while being a life-partner and friend.  And I’m a writer, a creative photographer, a poet, bringing logic and imagination…

My Crazy Slow Surrender to Life’s Beauty

Life is worn and tearing, and this makes me profanely angry. I hear a baby cry in the distance, just a simple need for succor and in an instant, I’m filled with Memory—Grief for What’s Lost. For when it was my breast, feeding the cry, when mine were young, I did not understand The Wonder. …

Remembering Daddy

Being the perfectionist that I am, and that my goal for this year is to be FEARLESS, this simple act of writing without editing for five minutes, has become a good thing for me. Five Minute Friday.  When I Remember, it’s my childhood and it is pain that floods in. My soul must taste bitter,…