An Arrow Pointing North

I hear a door close and wonder what adventure it's owner is on. I hear a child's laughter, like a tinkling bell. I hear music, a melody that conveys what I cannot say. I hear my own breathing, the steady in and our that reminds me I'm alive. Whispers of memory float through my mind, like leaves following the wind. My thoughts move by, the sounds of passing traffic on the hallway. I hear the small thumps and crackles, the drumbeat of the day's activities. I can imagine the sounds of chirping birds and crickets, the hum of cicadas. Something as quiet as the beat of my own heart or as loud as a symphony. Isn't it strange how our brain can hold close the sounds that make up our world? I sit in stillness, but not in silence. I hear the life that exists all around me when I stop to listen.

I long for a moment of stillness. One drop in the cup of my being, quenching a weary soul. To experience a connection and feel the essential nature of myself  in synchronicity with the universe. To take a deep breath without worry, anxiety, or fear.  To accept life's flow for what it is, not what I want it to be. To remove myself from the constraints of a mold; to let my spirit soften into the shape it was designed to be. To know that every synapse, every neuron, every cell belongs exactly as it is.

We live in the land of instant gratification,  where waiting feels like torture,  where “no” feels like a rejection of self.  We cling to things that empty us,  swearing they make us whole.  We swirl around each other;  always moving, never touching.  We settle, telling ourselves we wanted this all along.  We judge those who don’t try,  and those who try too hard.  Our mirrors reflect a thousand things we’re told to be,  but never our true selves.  We want everything and love nothing.   We live by newsfeeds,   but we’re in the dark about everything outside our immediate space.  We can’t hold space for things and people  who do not fit inside our mold.  We grow old, but pretend we don’t;  forgetting generations of wisdom.  The world is so much static and noise,  we can’t hear our inner voice.  Or maybe we don’t want to;  we're afraid of what it might say.   Th...

There is beauty in righteous anger.  The feeling where your body knows the wrongness;  The need to put to rights the injustices  inflicted by a careless world.  Release the torrent of emotion  beating at the shores of your soul.  Tell the world the pain you’ve been commanded to carry.  Tell those who hurt you that you will no longer be tethered in their chains.  You will no longer fear your own anger.  You are a beautiful thing to behold;   fire and fury wrapped in a loving embrace.  You are forged by your pain  into something they told you that you could never be. 

  I wonder, what did you think about when you were a little boy? What made your heart leap, what filled you with joy and wonder? What thoughts filled your head? What were your greatest hopes and fears? How did it feel when a wish came true? How did it feel when a friend hurt your feelings? What made you happy, and who did you turn to when you were sad? What did you think about your life, and how did you imagine your future? What did you love most about birthdays? What food could you eat forever? What movie did you watch a million times? Sometimes, it's easy to feel like we know a person; like a snapshot of one moment  encapsulates everything about their soul. But you were a whole person before we met and, everyday, you reimagine a little piece of yourself. And maybe, knowing these things will help me to really see the man you are.

Something they don’t say about grief i s how often it feels like longing. I long for the chance to say goodbye, to tell you what you mean to me, to explain how much I miss you. I long to show you how fare I’ve come; how my daughter looks like me, and my son reminds me of you. I long for your guidance, your comfort, your wisdom. I long to hear your stories, to understand your truths. I long for the moments, big and small; to share what shapes a life. I long to tell you all the things my heart tries to hold. I long to remember the sound of your laughter, the feel of your hugs. I long to watch you get ready at your vanity one more time. I long to hear you sing the hymns that spoke to your soul.  I long for the times when you showed me that imperfection is beautiful and grace is a gift. I long to learn from your strength, hope, and humility.  I long to know you, one adult to another in a way that I no longer can. I long to share with you stories of love and loss, things that have ...

Calm, stillness, silence, isolation. joy, enthusiasm, mania. two sides to a coin, one with the other, too much or too little, good or bad. Who decides what’s right and wrong? Who tells us how to exist in the world? Who sets the score and shows us the beacon? Where do we fit, and who tells us that’s where we go? Renaming, reclaiming what it means to be alive. Many emotions or few, all placed exactly where they need to be. The ebb and flow, waves on the shore. darkness of a cool night; light of a sunny day. The path we walk is ours alone. we are each our own North Star. We hurt and heal, all without anyone truly knowing what it feels like to know intimately the agony of your own heart breaking, or the joy of hearing your children laugh. Who are you to feel the need to explain the worth of your feelings to someone who has never known how being feels in your body, not their own? What tells you how to exist  besides the beating of your own heart? Who knows the shape and weight of your s...

Oh darling, precious one, I wish I could save the world for you. I wish I could slay all the dragons and conquer the armies. I wish I could feed the masses, help the injured, and heal the sick. I wish I could plant the trees, clean the water, and protect the animals for you. I wish I could make peace and give everyone a home.  I wish I could keep pain from ever touching you. I wish I could hold your heart in my hands and make sure no one breaks it. I wish I could put your mind at peace. But you don’t need saving, do you? You’re the hero of your own story. Slayer of dragons, healer, peace-maker. You are wise elder and warrior, You are freedom-fighter and friend.  How in awe I am of you, my darling; your strength, your hope, your love.  You bring intuition and curiosity to all you do. Your mind is a cornucopia of beautiful thoughts, and your eyes are full of wonder. Thank you, my love, for showing me a world beyond imagination. A world that can exist within the reality of t...

What makes a home?  Secrets, an old blanket pulled from the closet.  Comfort, cuddling on the couch.  Lies, the mess hidden behind a closed door.  Healing, a shower at the end of the day.  Hurts, those old clothes you can’t seem to part with.  Growth, ivy climbing the walls.  Shame, the blackest of rooms.  Stories, whispered in the air.  Peace, tucking your child in at night.  Acceptance, fresh laundry on the line.  Joy, children running the halls.  A clock, measuring the passage of time.  Home.  Where you can speak truth into your sacred imperfection.  Where you can ground in your beautiful authenticity.  Where you can rest your precious soul. 

Tears can mean so many things;  anger, sorrow, grief. Falling like a rain shower; laughter, joy, relief. Tears can say, "hold me" or "I need to be alone". Tears can tell you, your heart has found a home. If we stop to listen, tears will tell a story. All the pictures of ourselves, the truth in all its glory. Tears can tell the truth, and withstand the hate. Sometimes tears remind us, that it's never too late; to love, to learn, to connect, to change, to see another side. To recognize the shared humanity that we all live inside.

Sometimes I wonder, Are you just as confused as I am? Does your brain twist and turn, Molding itself into the cookie cutter shape of normalcy? Do you feel all of your wires, Tangled up tight, Restraining, holding, choking? Do you know what it looks like, To hold a mirror up to other people Hoping to see yourself? Does your mind write rules, Like complex lines of code, Trying to make sense of a world that doesn’t fit? Or do you not fit? Constricting; straitjacket of expectations. Misunderstanding of intentions.  Fear, like noises in the dark. Internal emptiness; a disconnect from reality. Do your thoughts stampeded across your consciousness, Kicking up dust as they go? Do words storm across your atmosphere, Like thunderclouds promising rain? Or swarm, like locusts, Invading your mind’s peace? Can you create a mosaic from the fragments of a shattered soul? Do you feel the urge, to flutter like a bird; Or sway like an old rocking chair? To stare into the great void of existence and fo...