Opting in to possibility

What I "got"

I make my own choices, they are mine, and I get to choose

I see the possibilities, if I don't see them then I don't have them.

I see them. I choose.

I get to say who I am and how I want to live my life

I say it, I create it, I own it, I live it, I make an impact.

I am saying it. I choose.

I cannot be prepared for everything, but I can be open

I can keep my eyes open and I can handle what will come.

I take responsibility. I choose.

I want fun. I am fun. I create fun. I live fun.

I want love. I am love. I create love. I live love.

I want connection. I am connection. I create connection. I live connection.

I want to bring this very sensation, understanding, inspiration to you.

To you and all others in my life, from my loves, to clients, to strangers.

If this is it, and it can only be it, and nothing else but it

Then I opt in, I say yes, I say I will and I am, and choose it fully.

I see it. I say it. I take responsibility for it. I choose it.

Obliteration and reiteration

Too much too new

this is too much, it hurts my head

expanding and contracting

offering me infinity and threatening my very existence

possibility and destruction fused

as deconstructing what I know to rebuild anything

is exciting and horrifying and unknown

i can't be sure, am not ready, not sure how i feel

and yet none of those mean anything in this new dim glow

the only thing that now carries meaning...

...is that nothing has meaning and the floor is wiped clean.

I cannot be your solution

Fully enough

i have lived a life not fully whole

i did compensate for another

i did try to make up for another's choices

and I was rewarded for it, then and now

but at what cost to myself?

what did I accept when I accepted

another's fuck-ups, another's inflicted pain

another's learning experiences

without my own learning from them?

Vicarious learning is not the same

as experiencing and understanding for oneself

Yet I lived with the belief that I carried the power

The responsibility for others' actions

That I could in some way be more than myself

And while atoning for another's sins

I lost my own path, my own desires to try

Not completely, but I mixed mine with his

And theirs, and hers, all others whom I respected

Well I am not you or anyone other than me

I am inexcusably, unapologetically me

And I am not ashamed, and I will not be

Anyone else but me from here on out

I am no angel, but I am enough

I don't know where this one is going

Reading shadows

how can you choose

when it all blurs into one

the colors overlap, shading

how can you find form

when edges are round, soft

color blind and limited to shadow

how do i move forward if

choices cannot be made?

but if choices must be made

how can i trust what i see?

can it all be left to feeling

intuition

gut?

I can't get no....

As you say it is

enough

that said

can never suffice

there is no limit

there is no finite boundary

that says that enough is enough

it is personal, subjective, objectionable

you must accept terms

as you choose

your challenge

satisfaction

When you are unspoken of

Haiku: Turtle Stories

she left partway through

mouths open, but forewarned

we bear silently

my home is your home

and your home is mine, removed

foreign yet faithful

you say let it lie

since when are words so simple

don't leave it unsaid

"we are who we are"

undeniably linked

grief looming within

Ripened, ready

Split it open, I ask you

thick and full and bursting ripe

this is the time, expose what is inside

share your fruits, the cluster of seeds within

you cannot let the ripeness linger closed

for to ripen fully, unshared, is to shrivel unknown

your sweetness and aliveness gifts to no one,

they shift to bitterness and mush within their skins

crack it open, it is okay if the seam is not straight

use a knife, a sharp edge, your hands if you need to

there is no right way, just share what you have

its is yours to give, and you must give

must give and partake and revel in others' joy

such pleasure brought through taste and texture

deep purple, not bright like an apple, but deep and velvety

your richness and softness are not to be compared

they are the inherent gifts you bear and you bring

let out the juices, the sweet flesh, and just breath

in and out, your scent in the air, filling the space

Chemical romance

We musn't stay here too long

it isn't so romantic to dwell in the dusk

there is little charm in sucking out the poison

yet there is a kind of addiction to darkness

an intoxication from drinking in such intensity

how can you take it in, feel it, but distill it out

let the dark concoction settle, filter through, purer

'emotional alchemy' she calls it, shifting dark into light

not negating or denying it, but transforming it

as artists, creative souls, how do we not dwell there

how do we take the sad like dough, and let it rise and puff

how do we 'feel every bump edge scratch ouch' and use it

but not lose ourself in the sharpness and wounds exposed

it isn't so romantic to nurse our wounds, sulking in the corner

there is little charm in self-deprication and self-medication

we must not sink down into the warmth of our despair

but pull away, push through, envelop ourselves as we rise up

The burning of old man gloom

All is not lost, all is not gained

how do we mourn for someone we so despise

how do we let go of grief that goes beyond our target

one man became the container for all evil, all injustice

he became a symbol of our fears and losses

inhumane, despotic, but scapegoated too

a misfit, alienated in his family and land

a double outsider from a double outsider

no excuses here, no justification, no forgiveness

a criminal on the deepest level, inflicting his own hurts

but a human all the same, a man of flesh and bone

he is gone and we rejoice, avenged as a nation

like zozobra, all our grief and gloom burned to ash

but next year, as we accumulate new loss, new concerns

who will take the blame, who will bear the weight of it all

this is not it, not everything, not pure relief

we must remember that no man is an island

and through all anger and tears, we remain connected

we must hold onto our humanity, even in the face of fear.

Orchard street

I catch moonbeams in my hands

Cycling

You heard me

fuck it, said gently

this cannot be your last chance

one is proof of more

To you t

muck and muse

t, you have to know that you are your biggest critic

you will never be enough until you believe you are - it is

you will keep holding out for more, for better, for stronger

you keep reaching for something you set beyond your grasp

you are broken, cracked, perhaps even crazy

but no more than most people are, even if they hide it deep beneath

you are beautiful, provocative, nervous, truthful, alive

you are unusual, creative, and my favorite sing-along friend

stop hating yourself for being out of the box, for caring, for trying

quit feeling bad for feeling bad for feeling bad for feeling bad

take it in, breathe it out, shake it out, cry it out

but then leave it at that, let it all be what it will inevitably be

it isn't all peaches and cream, rose colored glasses, peace and love

it's never been and it has never been so for anyone else

we all suffer, some deeper down, some on the surface

you experience it, know it, channel it, and it fuels you

that is enough, you are enough, the "good-enough t"

allowing imperfection to create the perfect cocktail

the muck only enriches the vast capabilities you hold

get messy, let it out, cry it in, laugh in on, swim through

oh beautiful survivor, hopeful existential dreamer, true friend

i am grateful for all the gifts you have brought to my life.

I raise you

Melancholy

you call it melancholy

i call it a deep connection to this world

empathy with mother earth

understanding my permeability

i am not strange or perverse

i am not more extreme than others

i just feel things deeply as my own

do unto others, for they are part of you

i remember crying in bed as a little girl

i did not know why i was sad

i rationalized even then that maybe

i was crying for all those i had lost before

perhaps this melancholy is chronic

diagnosable, medicatable, changeable

but it speaks from a place that is real

and to numb it out would be false

masochistic maybe, stubborn for sure

but i know that worse than pain and hurt

is numbness to the world around us

to not feel is far more terrifying

so i will take my melancholy

and raise you your prozac, your blasé

for i am willing to bet that i will fare best

even with the sadness i carry in my heart

I am saying it again for both of us

I am sorry goodbye, good bye

Well shit,

We said goodbye but I am not sure you got it.

You asked me again why I was leaving, and for where, and if I was coming back.

You asked me why I could not stay and continue with you still.

You know I can't but you don't really hear me, you don't really listen to why.

Maybe I am not convincing, maybe I do not really know myself.

Maybe I am not ready, and maybe you can see that through my poor excuse of a reason.

Maybe you know that "I have to" is linked to conventionality and rules, but that possibility still looms in the air if the door is kicked hard enough.

I am sorry sorry sorry so sorry and I wish this was not it.

I wish wish wish so hard that I could do more, be more, bring more hope into your life.

I just hope hope so hard, so badly, so deeply that you will be able to come through this all.

Please be strong and trust that the good moments of your life can happen again, in new ways.

You don't need me, not the real me, but the other "me"s out there with hope and love.

So I mean goodbye, goodbye, this is it, it has to be, it has to end, good bye, a very good bye.

I am waving in my heart, a ridiculous Vanna White, pageant queen wave of dreams to come.

I am watching you drift away, or maybe more likely, I watch you on the shore as I float on.

But I am waving, and wishing, and hoping, and believing to you, in you, for you.

Goodbye.

I will miss you so much.

You will not be forgotten.

I will cry for this, for you, for me.

A loss not taken lightly.

We will be okay.

We will.

Direction forward

A shift in being

You were the me before

varied pieces of a whole

each trying to be, to form

to grow into something complete

Chips of intention and hope

a tragically purposeless motivation

flying up with tethered wings

clipped claws scratching at the bark

We are coming together

stronger as we connect and fuse

Less an optical illusion

More solid and deep, rooted

Perfection fractured into realness

Shoulds dissolving into ghosts

To accept not knowing, uncertainty

Letting absolutes soften to gray tones

You have shifted into me now

But more, thicker, rougher, fatter

Marbled flavor, cushioning blows

Savoring a fullness of being not yet known