Monthly Archives: July 2015

Validated, acknowledged, loved, reflected.

The concept of talking to someone about your pain, struggles, confusion, perception – is an interesting one. Why do we need to be heard this way? Perhaps, we hope the other will say you have every reason to feel as you do. Validated. We need to know we are aren’t alone, both in the way we feel and literally. Acknowledged. The idea that the journey will not have to be traveled without any like-minded companions. Loved. Maybe it’s also to hear the thoughts spoken so they come out of your mind and back in through your ears, this time with the response of the other person listening. Then your listener can mirror your words back to you. Reflected.

What ever specifically it is, over-all it is a release. This release happens when another is there to witness it.

Writing can often offer a similar catharsis. This is immeasurably invaluable when there is no one available to listen. It is so effective, it can become a way to avoid being social and connecting with another in a trusting and intimate way. 

Perhaps you can relate, dear writer. 🙂 

The time has come for me to talk to another. I believe it will be invaluable. 

Namaste, my friend. 




Daily haiku #Haiku #minipoem #poem

There’s profit in fear.

Here’s the only remedy:

Look for the beauty. 


we know nothing.   

We really don’t know anything.

We make assessments on almost no information. Often, we must. There are things about a trusted person that you will never know. Things that will die with them. Things if known, you may not have offered your trust at all. There are choices people make at precise moments based on their limited view. We are moving forward, so often we don’t reflect back to see what we have left in our wake. And other times, a thing is so small we can’t see it without looking closer or from a different perspective. 

Like my friend here. I didn’t see him til after the shot. Then and only then, could I bring my full attention to him and allow him to shine. 

Sometimes what we see is hard to look at. Sometimes what we’re shown is hard to look at. We are given something we didn’t expect and don’t know what to do with. And perhaps worse, are those things taken without the intent to give. We are left with our violation. Our mistrust. Our fear. 

We don’t know anything. 

They say that love is blind. It is. As it should be. It is in this blindness that our humanness is forgiven. 

Love’s only assessment is to be allowed. To be in the flow. To prevail. To shine. It does this when you allow it. When it is untethered from our assessments. 

Freeing the flow of love is the ultimate challenge: Loving when you know nothing.

Namaste, my friend.



You are made of love.

I so want to share with you.

But I am fixated on painful thoughts, negative thoughts, thoughts of confusion. This is not what I wish to share with you. My goal, my aim, is to be positive and loving, with a gentle push to encourage you to go where you want to go. 

Mostly, when I’m writing lately, it comes out far too personal, far too injured, and not what I want to hand to anyone.

At times like these I must remind myself many times a day: I am made of love. 

You are made of love too. 

Maybe that’s all I ever need to say to you. 

Thank you for reading. 🙂 

Namaste, my friend. 



My heart…


I protect my heart.

It has been so broken

that the pieces had to be swept up,

tenderly collected, 

and stored in a soft cotton bag.

The bag was placed inside a jewelry box

in the old cedar trunk

up in the attic

next to other things

I was not sure what to do with.

It tried to mend.

By mostly, it slept,

there in the dark.

After many years,

I heard you

quietly whisper.

It was my name.

And with the sound,

blood flowed,

and hope,

and joy,

but mostly, 


And my heart awoke.

It had ever beat so loud.

And I saw through your eyes

your vision of me.

You believed in me.

And I began to believed too.

As I started to soar, 

I turned to you 

and you were gone.

And all that height frighten me.

I looked at my heart

And remembered why it had broken

All those years ago.

And I cried many tears.

There are more to come.

There is a reason the whisper of your voice 

woke my bent and broken heart.

You were the only one who ever held it

With sweetness and light.

I’m grateful I know 

what that feels like.

You are made of love 


The man is a boy. A haiku. #minipoem