Before You Go
On the edge and down below,
the water ripples and you glow.
“3, 2, 1….3, 2, 1…3, 2, 1 go”
The rush, the wind, the speed, the spots,
around and around and once more, stop.
Kick, look, move, punch.
The release into water, you had a hunch.
In your soul you knew
before you ever made a move:
“Everything always works out for me”
Flying through the air, that’s where I am free.
The thrill, intoxicating. You keep coming back for more.
Pain of imperfection, when you miss, you’re sore.
For days, sometimes weeks - shoulders, thighs back,
but you return again to feel the water break, the sound of the crack.
Addicted to adrenaline, to overcoming fear,
to jump off the platform, surface instantly near.
Diving head first, sometimes unknown,
pride and confidence and a kickass “yes” confirmation….
You’re in the zone.
Only five chances to prove your worth.
All of the blood, sweat, smacks, and tears to come in first.
Ten meters high, on top of your world,
You do it again, even when your brain is swirled.
Obsessed, dependant, a slave to that pain,
because even a good one - you still feel for days.
You can't get enough, the silence, spins, rips.
And when it's all over, your heart - it's in bits.
The training, the reps, learning everyday
“You will get better,” you tell yourself. You say:
you can do it, you can
(you already have).
You’ve proven yourself again and again.
Always hungry for more - you can always be better.
No perfect 10’s just another day wetter.
Years pass, there is growth, but it’s never enough.
Unbounded love, you will never give up.
Just one more as you swim to the side,
up the stairs, to the edge, 3, 2, 1…glide
And in the arena, mom and dad cheer.
Before you go, knowing you belong here.
In the Silence
When the birds hush, the wind wanes, the crickets quiet, there is silence.
What happens next?
Temptation to let the mind wander, race, rush, ruminate? No. She is stronger now.
In the silence, she is still. Listening for the divine, letting her beautiful mind be still and know.
Comfort floods her being. Stress and worry and weight peel off and melt into the abyss. Light as a feather now.
God’s love is an immense wave, toppling over her head, scooping her out into sea, embracing tighter than a home-coming-hug. “Be here now.” And then the release, gently laying her down on dry ground. Renewed, reinforced, reassured. “Trust me.”
And, bit by bit, she does. Where logic departs, faith arrives. Day by day, and only one at a time. “All will be well my darling, you will see.”
WIthout the silence, the heart opening, surrendering …none of this can come to pass. She cannot will it into existence, and without the silence, He won’t let her see.
The hardest lesson to learn and then blindly, fully, unwaveringly obey.
Only then does love begin.
Salt Dreams
This morning she finds herself curled up tight, tangled in the most exquisite, luxurious blanket that exists. Clutching her ‘Carmel’ tinted coffee tight, watching waves wind in and out, crashing against the rocks. The sound, its muffled. Not too loud, still a rhythmic peaceful volume.
The sun rises through cloud striped sky. Oranges, pinks, violets, spilling out from every edge. Its going to be overcast today - her favorite. The kind where silver still defines the flat fluff overhead - so close she might be able to feel it with just a hop and a reach. Its not too humid and the sea spray reminds her this is all finally real. A cool breeze sends a quick shiver through her limbs. A chill of excitement, expression of joy - one her body cannot physically contain it seems.
He is there beside her in this elongated cushioned rocking chair. Calm and steady gliding back and forth. In his own little world, with her still top of mind. Tucking her toes underneath his thighs and his arm around her knees reminds her of this fervent truth.
Hours go by and more could continue. “Lets go for a walk” she whispers. Slowly making their way towards the salty horizon, continuing on the ocean packed, angel wing sprinkled sand. Their linen pant legs rolled up above the ankles and cozy sweaters, they meander hand in hand. A gentle clasp, her fingers folded into his, twirreling his wedding band as she wonders about the world.
Where would they go next? Suddenly it doesnt matter because, with him, wherever they go - she is home
Warm Fuzzies
Perfectly choreographed flora down the median of a highway bringing sunshine on an otherwise daunting travel day to the cold place
God’s paint brush of autumn down Welles Street
The way sunlight glitters on a lake mirroring the fairy dust that shimmers through her insides with a single glance. One that lasts a moment too long to be meaningless
The undeniable sense she’s not alone in her exact thought or feelings at any point in time
When each other’s hopes and dreams become each other’s too
A quiet sunrise over a hill top. One God made just for her on this day
Clouds above playing and shape shifting and coming together, slow dancing, and delighting in the shade they create
The embrace when she feels the world is too much. Moreover, the holding on with such intensity until she’s ok again
The confidence to “wear the dress” to the office full of engineers in starched button downs
An eruption of giggles from the little one across the aisle during peek-a-boo on the flight home
The harvest flavored rainbow on the ground stretching for miles out the window climbing to 30,000ft, elegantly evermore enhanced by a sweet soft gentle sunset
Revisiting the comfort of her own bed after 4 long days away
Affectionately brushing by each other trying a new recipe in a too-small-kitchen
The white egret who’s made his home in the corner of the pond, always there to greet her on morning walks before taking flight to find second breakfast
The first snowfall that sticks, glistening in the night as a fire inside rages on
Answered prayers & God winks
Where Rest Is
Feet planted concrete in this space, surveying beauty before her. This is her safe place. On the boulder between two mossy mounds. Infant mountains, children to those on the horizon that capture every God scripted sunrise and sunset. Sharp jagged perfection casting flawless shaddows, steadfast in their own knowing and purpose.
Rooted here she stands. Returning to this imagined scene when sleep itself is a longed for dream. When counting to one hundred a hundred times and then again leaves her eyes wide open. Here, where the reverent wind sways the lush long grass. Tall, soft, encompassing in this formulated valley in her mind. No artificial noise, only nature sings here. Whispering comfort from the gale. Never seen, the only evidence of its presence is the movement stirred up all around (and within), rushing over the violet mountains landing gracefully on her skin. A hint of horripilation trickling through her.
Still she stands while, from her chest, butterflies swarm. Too many to ever have hope of quantifying. Unpredictable moments, gushing from her spirit out into this valley. Random but welcome snippets in time. When least expected, these gifts from above, then within, proliferate.
Butterflies, their own history just as transforming. From birth on old red dirt, to retreating inward, dissolving, then emerging. Majestic and light, they take flight. Delight in their predestined, butterflies do not question why their journey is so weird. Rather, they take this blessing and flutter to their heart's content. Internal compass leading the way.
Here on this boulder filled with intermittent half present heartbeats, a calm emerges and slumber steps up to the stage. Flat bubbling clouds slowly fade into the darkness, wind winds down then mirrors the whirl of the fan overhead. That falling feeling finds her.
Falling deep into the just-firm-enough mattress, pillows strategically tucked here and there, one final tense then release, back arching every so slightly as she curls up on her side secured. Resting resolute.
Certain Hope
And when they come together, all else fades away. The world evaporates and two souls are left in a star stricken universe. Ever converging into their own comet shooting across the sky. Passion and excitement and desire glows from within.
She is seen and known, held gently in his arms with a strength born of confidence within. He brings her soul to life again and she gives him all he needs to be king of the world. In this way they are one. Reliant on the other. Two givers pouring out their hearts and simultaneously filling up the other’s. Neither heart empty or lonely or questioning ever again.
Fantasized hopes and dreams become a certain future. Nothing is then impossible. It is not easy, nor painless, the path to get there is foggy and unclear… They mend each other's wounds, even in the silence, they build each other back up. The young love never fades, rather expands and encompasses them. All the more surrounding as armor for any battle they face.
Each independent still and strong in their own ways, without fear without abandon. This love builds that individual confidence and radiates joy.
The unstoppable pair navigate this rocky earthly journey as one.
Piece by Piece
Falling apart. No.
Golden, puzzle pieces meld,
Dripping to Earth’s floor.
It is not broken.
It can’t break, just looks different.
Parts, whole, then gushing.
Heart at rest, for now.
Each piece strong and resilient,
Just relocated.
Beauty abounding,
Unpredictable, graceful
Mercy Mother Earth.
Together again,
Gold raindrops seep underground.
Alive…. piece by piece
Drive Back Home
She drives down that pacific coast highway heading North. Maybe in a jeep with the roof top off. Driving, daydreaming, crying, laughing, cry-laughing, singing, wondering, smiling. Ignorant confidence in what lies ahead. Leaving the past just there. Erasing all the pain that has ever been, The wind in her hair does that for her. Blonde sparkling streaks catching each individual light particle. Washing her new with every mile.
Of course she is driving - this leg of the trip anyway. But make no mistake, he is by her side. Holding her right hand now then her left when they switch. No words are needed. That is what the cozy evenings are for. Reconnecting. Hashing out each favorite moment of the day in great detail. Many of which include the animated reactions of the four-legged-floof who has been tagging along in the back seat.
Three pairs of green eyes soaking in all creation has to offer. Cheeks ever so slightly sunkissed. The fall rays still shine through and leave evidence in the form of freckles and rosy grins.
There is no rush, no plan. Well there is semblance of a plan but only as a compass, not as guard rails. If one day is a spontaneous horse ride alongside the waves, the next is hide-and-seek where the redwoods grow and grow and grow, and the last is skipping the tucked away lemon meringue painted cottage and sleeping under the stars, there is nothing to hold them back.
Evolving like the flat but bubbling clouds overhead, chasing sunsets, resting when it feels right, and returning to an embrace at every “in-between”.
Nothing is off limits or unreasonable. There is no fear or concern. No logistics. Just exploration and freedom and the weightlessness that is included….
Bright beams from what seems to be a lighthouse ruffle her feathers. Aren’t lighthouses an east coast thing? Earth’s 360 completes again. Those beams turn out to be the morning sun and not a lighthouse at all.
Undecided about whether to be happy about this dream or grumpy that it is time to get up and start the day, either way there is an underlying warmth because he is there next to her in the awake times too.
Navigating harsh realities and responsibilities, reasonable though they may be, together. The bond, stronger day over day. This less whimsical adventure is still part of that plan and, although different, ends up just as beautiful.
It's off to the gym, only so she can come back to a cup (or two) of coffee and tackle the workday ahead. Busying her mind till he comes back home too. Home to her longing, loving heart, where they meet once more.
Every Little Thing
Every little thing is going to be alright.
Every big thing
Every moment - scary, good, sad, joyfilled
Every milestone
Every worry
Every deadline
Every goal
Every job
Every friendship
Every fleeting thought
Every memory
Every dream
Every desire
It's going to be alright.
“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11
She waits, she believes but doesn’t quite yet trust. So she prays, asking for help to trust, to have faith, for her little tiny mustard-seed-heart to grow and expand.
Then maybe one day her heart is so big and strong, her faith is so undeniable, that she looks back comically at the moments of uncertainty.
Those days….eventually….will be hundreds of miles in the rear view.
For now, inch by inch, yard by yard, mile, by mile, she pedals forward. Praying for belief to build faith, for faith to transform into trust.
Every little thing is going to be alright and until then, her time is best spent on gratitude - for every little thing. For friendships, for learning what true unconditional love might look like, might feel like. For every blessed adventure, for every moment that ever brought the big cheeks - nose crinkle smile. For cozy overcast days, for fall butterflies that have arrived in the field. For slow days and the birthdays and the weeks that fly by too.
Believing in the moment that all will be well is, right now, the best she can do. Her 100% is different day in and day out. Some days her 100% is another day’s 60%.
In those moments she practices giving herself grace, knowing better tomorrows are to come.
In It.
Realizing, after the moment has passed, she went through that bit of darkness once again. In the darkness things feel hopeless and, while her body moves in slow motion, her mind races.
Catastrophizing. Assuming the worst. Body tensing but completely empty at the same time. Attempting to fill the void with any vice at her fingertips. Stomach in knots. Bracing for invisible imaginary impact - physically, mentally, emotionally.
Where does all of this come from? How can she ever end the recurrence? Especially when she can’t recognize the darkness until the moment has passed. Until the fog lifts. Until the elephant gets up off her chest and moves on to his next victim.
Only then can she breathe again, and what a sweet breath of fresh crisp clean air that is. The literal sigh of relief. Her lungs can fill to capacity once more. Her body is alive. Her smile reemerges and lights up even the night sky.
The contrast, so stark, is only recognizable when the dust of this vicious storm has settled. The release, the new life on the other side - she runs to. Neglecting the dedication to unravel the confusion and depravity.
Maybe this contributes to the cycle. Absent of recognizable pattern but still evident.
Taking the good, conveniently erasing the bad from memory. She moves on…until the darkness returns.
Roots
There will come a day, there will come a time….Where roots, so inextricably interwoven, deep and secure in the earth, find their will and their way to produce a sprout.
There is no clock, known or unknown, but the underlying truth and destiny is that this sprout will surface. It must.
Planted years, decades, milenia? Prior.
Time in the silent, nurturing, safe, embracing underground - roots mulling over which direction to take hold of next - all the while consistently continuing to interlink.
Connections formed instantly in a season, persistent over lifespans, and everything in between. All the while the system beneath the surface strengthens.
There is no finality, no tactical plan, there doesn't need to be. Not with this.
No. Nature moves and grooves just as it desires, just as it needs.
Checklists are futile here. Logic and reason are mortal descriptors in this everlasting essence.
Beauty exists here too. With no need for observation.
The intimate network of nodes and edges conduct limitless electricity. This.
This is why the sprout is inevitable.
And when it does break through into the open air, the most transcendent viridian exposed, adding to the wonder of creation surrounding.
With this indescribable, nonspecific but undeniable foundation beneath…
This resultant lives on as a flame eternal into the expanse.
Speak It Into Being
I attract energy, drive, determination
I embody grace, love, femininity
I exude confidence, connection, compassion
My aura is creative, sensual, relaxed
I find feminine, sex, passion, within me and by me
The Holy Spirit shines through me
I am one with the universe and all that surrounds me
Success and wealth of all forms find their way towards me
I act out of intuition and without reservation
ALL of my hopes and dreams come to pass
I attract people into my life that expose the best version of myself
Connection and love and passion and confidence bubble up from the surface and are no longer buried or dormant
Fear is extinguished
She is alive.
Fluffy Cow Socks
In this dream she's curled up in a cabin in the woods. It is cold and misty outside there too. Hot Cinnamon Sunset tea and enough daylight to bask in the nature that surrounds. Staring off into space, a blank look in her eyes, her mind is bustling.
Deciding on new dreams, new goals, contemplating what the future holds. This time from a place of love, genuine curiosity, and hope.
Longing and desperation and “what ifs” are drowned out with every next inch of rainfall. That headspace no longer serves her even though its a battle everyday to keep it at bay. Prayers and meditation and faith in God’s plan bring her back over the bridge to optimism.
This is where she sits. In a gaze. Her mind at war, but she’s winning.
Fixed between two scenes:
The wonder of what wind would look like if it was visible. Leaves leaning this way and that. None of the raindrops fall straight down. Some drip north, some west. Each on their own little journey as the sky cries. Some tears of joy, others not. Drop by drop, nourishing mother earth in the precise way she needs to thrive.
Inside, such a contrast. Just past her nose, steam floats up. Swirling in the atmosphere from her too hot tea. Droplets condensing between her hands and the lucky mug they are wrapped around. An oversized sweater but silk pajama shorts on purpose so she can feel the plush gentle blanket encompass her clean shaven freshly moisturized limbs. On her feet, fluffy cow socks - just because.
Beyond the chaise that holds her in a way it might have well been custom built to her specifications then perfectly worn to her shape…. The fireplace crackles. Flames dancing, sometimes raging, sometimes only a whisper. The mystery of what the embers will produce keeps her fascination fixed to the point of momentarily muting her thoughts all together.
Euphoria.
Minutes feel like hours but hours like seconds all at once.
Time doesn’t exist at this cabin in the woods. At least not until she decides that it does.
Quantum Entanglement
Quantum entanglement: When particles become linked in such a way that the state of one instantly determines the state of the other, no matter how far apart they are.
Alive? and unobserved. Like waves in the ocean, where foam from one folds into the next and so on. The infinite rhythm of swells and serenity. Each has their place, each critical for the other to exist as it is. Neither overshadowing. There is no beginning. There is no end. Only a simple understanding that the particles - regardless of circumstance, location, moment in time - require the other to exist. The particles flow. Wherever they are called to? Sent? Desire to go? Mystery manifests. Manifests wonder and creativity and delight and expansion further into the unknown. Wielding beauty in the wake.
When lightning pierces the heart of the sea, stunned, frozen in time - the particles observed - everything changes. From dancing waves to bullet holes in the surface. Quantum tunnel, now a funnel sending precision and exactness into the beyond. The way curiosity of a cinnamon scent is squashed the moment eyes open and realization of origin is uncovered.
Which fork in the road wins? When the tree falls in the woods undetected, it does not make a sound. There is no tree. There are no woods. Yet the unbounded wind bellows through the leaves all the while. Shimmering at the golden autumn hour, floating one by one off each branch until the last settles. Without a whisper to each other they know when their time has come. When the season has changed.
When the next cycle must begin.
Credit: Augusto / Adobe Stock
Wrinkle in the Waves
Wrapped in a towel on the balcony she rests. Looking out at a familiar horizon she has to leave today. That goodbye is hours away, she is already mourning the loss. The loss of minimal threads, breezy dreams, salty swims. This second home has become comforting in a savory, cozy, wonderful kind of way.
Midway into the ocean there is a wrinkle in the waves. Past where the turquoise meets royal blue but not too far to be out of focus. The white ruffle in the sea disturbs the serine. Bringing dimension and curiosity, a known quantity of rocks perhaps or a bump in the earth. The tide has a hiccup before reaching the shore.
So does she. The journey is never perfect (or is it). Tossed about wondering which way is up, sometimes rejecting the notion there is a right way up.
Confidence is her sail, resilience her rudder. Uncertain when the wind will come, holding steadfast that, upon arrival, it is unwavering, forceful, fantastic, sending her to the next magical moment along the way.
Same Same but Different
Falling, tossing, turning, searching for the light. The brilliance that was once blinding is now the tiniest speck in the sky.
The last visible star before the sun wakes up.
When all hope feels lost, nocturne owls have found a snooze, and the sun rolls over a new day. That distant sparkle, a constant in the night, fades into morning.
In another world, she is a star too. Shooting across the expanse wherever joy and wonder fuel her. Where there is no gravity, no reality, only adventure and discovery.
Propelled to explore and express. ‘Heavy’ and ‘weight’ and ‘sorrow’ are a foreign language. She sings with energy and vibrance and optimism. Stardust settles in her heart. Microscopic to the point of becoming a part of her organic matter - undetected, yet ever present.
She is a star now too. Not quite the same but not impossibly different…
Crumbling
Rubble all around.
Wind tipped a proper, neat, pile of broken pieces over. Now one by one, faster and faster, every jagged edge tumbles down the infinite mountain.
Maybe there is sweetness in the valley. Healing and nourishment and a gentile kind of breeze. Just enough to dust residue off the boulders, the pebbles, the in-between stones too.
Lush green and flora swallow the wreckage as it settles. Days wash over, the rain pours again and again. The stones begin to smooth.
What seems like a millennia later, they morph into one. Left to be discovered, only seams. Like gold inlay of a once shattered harvest tray. Noticeable evidence of gaps that once were, they no longer exist.
Nothing can break them apart anymore.
Together as one, a new foundation.
Electric Waltz
A dark dinner hall, they waltzed in. Dressed to the nines, tails and tulle, effortlessly on his arm. Music loud and exotic but not off-putting. No. Elevating and exciting, setting the tone for the hours that follow.
Greetings begin. First the bride then the groom for hosting an evening that could not be imagined. Then, separated from there, grinning ear to ear as hello’s continue. To lifetime friends each hasn’t seen in some time. With every embrace, salute, cheek kisses, the distance since the last connection evaporates. With dear friends, time is only a construct.
For a brief moment she surveys the hall. Taking in the sparkles and splendor. Fully immersing and cementing every second into her memory. His hand on the small of her back, she opens her eyes. While sending his salutations too, an invisible electricity remains between them.
Voltage pulsing regardless of distance, location, orientation.
United back as one, the band begins to play their song. Setting all notion and norms aside, they glide towards the center. In a sweet embrace, slowly twirling around the room. Everyone disappears from consciousness.
Its the two of them together, as had always been. Knowing there is only forever.
Flying off the Rails
What cannot be but still is. What do you call that? How do you manage to go on?
Does it matter?
In the stillness it rests, ages, matures.
Meanwhile she learns more about …her. Her own wounds, her own pain, her own flaws. Learns. Breaks down. Discovers healing. Two steps forward, one back. Ten beyond, thirteen in reverse. Finally launching forward. Not with explosivity but a slow, sturdy momentum. A train that cannot be stopped. With each pump of the piston, wheels flow forward.
Without destination but trust in the rails, heading towards a future and a hope. Each mile, each state, she sheds her scars her fears her uncertainties her missteps. Standing taller in her own being. Crutches on the world dissolve. A new internal frame with a Holy Spirit foundation. Each dark tunnel opens to a new expanse. Night terrors dissipate, all that’s left are dreams of delight. The creative within grows bigger and brighter.
Can trains grow wings? Does it matter?
She does.
Light as a feather she floats into the wind. Not pushed or pulled. No. Spirit steers this starship. Into the overcast, through the atmosphere, into a new, different, darkness.
Illuminating the universe, she flies.
Portrait of Love
It all begins with an idea.
A striking difference there is between lust and love.
Lust - the single bite of a cookie after weeks of restriction, longing for just one gram of sweetness melting on her tongue. When it dissolves, it turns out the idea was more alluring than the reality of it.
Love. Love is deeper than comprehension. All encompassing, love leaves her speechless and in wonder.
When the air begins to cool after a down pour, steam slowly seeps out of the earth, the stream, the hot gravel road. Sun and radiance penetrating the world, unseen by the eye until a catalyst exposes. Triggered by change by life giving water from the heavens. That love that has been there all along in Mother Nature, and seemingly dormant, begins to rise.
Without control or direction fog forms, mist manifests. The forest floor breaths life again.
That is love.
Depth and strength unknown at first, then undeniable. Even after calibration and evaporation, the steam returns to the sky. New mysterious clouds form above. But now she realizes, sees, knows, and feels deep in her bones what love is. Unmatched in a way she cannot describe. A knowing that cannot be verbalized.
Waiting days, months, years, for that next precipitation to expose the love once again.
Coming home to the heart.
Until then, remembering all along that the love is always there beneath her feet. On solid ground souls carry her one step at a time. Forward, in silence, and in peace. With confidence now. With hope.
Image: ArtistGNDphotography