crabby

a silent trickle
down the spine
anxiety spins
its sticky crime
wages war against my logic
plays tricks on my sense of quiet
and leaves a disgusted film
on everything.

a conundrum of enormous proportions

Earlier this month, the Dalai Lama spoke in Washington DC and I was lucky enough to attend with my son. I have seen him speak many times over the years, but never in person. I was moved, he is Yoda and you can’t not be moved by his humble presence. He spoke about "world peace through inner peace" and I love that, it is truth. If just 25% of the world could find peace within ourselves, there would be an inevitable shift in the world.

In the last month or so, my reoccurring theme of focus is poverty. Here in the US and globally. I am not a sheep hiding under a red white and blue flag, I am aware of what is occurring in the world. Western games of domination, strong-arming and just straight up stealing. Leaving a vast majority of third world residents living of less than a dollar a day. It is shameful. I am broken inside over it. It is as if someone is raising my hand against my will to kill someone….slowly, maliciously.

I’ve often wondered what the Dalai Lama thinks about this dilemma of poverty, inflicted upon others by western governments. How is an average person, living in one of these western countries, to deal with the weight and guilt of such infliction? I may not purposefully direct or intend it, but my tax dollars support it. So, when we are discussing compassion and being one with our brothers and sisters, how do we digest our governments actions against them, being that they are indeed, rooted in our own inactions?

I understand, we change the world with our compassion, one person at a time. But how can we not think globally when 16,000+ children die everyday due to hunger related illnesses? We can do what we can do, but its still our karma. Its still our responsibility. We allow the beast to live and prosper on the backs of our brothers and sisters everywhere. We allow the beast to influence our love, allow them to distract us from their injustice, allow them to dictate all of our futures. I want to slay the beast and it is hard for me to think about feeding one person, when tomorrow there will be thousands more.

I am a fighting Buddhist. I would gladly take on the karma of violence if I knew it would benefit the many, if I knew I would be leveling the playing field, if I knew that it was just. But, yes, indeed, I am naïve. I have superhero dreams of gathering up all the 1%’ers, pilfering their bank accounts and having them serve the poor.

And as I look out my suburban windows, nine miles from the world bank and the IMF…I am frozen. Stuck. Afraid that I am powerless. Scared of what may come should I fight. Selfishly thinking of what my family can loose. It is an conundrum of enormous proportions.

napkin notes

I am not here to please you,
to help you sleep at night,
to help ease your need to control.
I am not striving for your perfection,
nor my own.
I am trying to find a balance,
that has little to do
with your judgment,
your fears,
or your inability to understand.
I am me. Not you.
Born into my life. Not yours.
To walk my path,
often slightly off
or blatantly askew.
Sometimes hermetic,
other times flamboyant.
I am trying to be kind
and compassionate
and bold in everything.
But,
I keep getting knocked down,
kicked and clucked at
for things beside the point.
Live your life,
it’s the only one you should rely on changing.
The only one obligated to listen.
Everything else is just noise…
Ranting,
Finger pointing,
Ransom notes,
A character hoax
In a book I would never read.
So do you,
Because you need it.
I am warm and comfy in the odd house
that raises strange birds and quirky chicks.
I don’t want to fit in,
blend in
or even participate in the madness
of A-alike, B-alike or C-alike.
I am living in the realm somewhere past Z.
Hanging on to the cliff of nothingness
laughing.

*i found a napkin in a purse I used last summer with this scribbled all over. I don't remember who/what inspired the feeling, but I love finding little pieces of myself like that*

women

Im feeling mean,
spiteful and caught up in a treason filled dream
where so-called friends tip off the enemy
and exchange whispers of my shitty personality.
Overwhelmed and paranoid,
while I whittle my stock down to crumbs
to sort through
shiny gems
tumbled stones
and plastic bits of bitches
that keep you close to observe,
instead of love.
I’m uncut and jagged
it takes the investment of time to reveal my luster
I may not be eager to spill my beans to make you feel comfortable.
And you mistake that for arrogance,
a guarded snotty façade
in which you are being judged.
The truth is...
I am prudent with women,
I learned early how to tiptoe,
strategically assess moods, vibes and intents.
Easily broken,
I love genuinely and deeply.
I am unable to casually connect.
The truth is…
I prefer the loyalty of men
Where discretion is valued,
Ripping yourself open is not.
The truth is…
I shouldn’t care if you like me
I should know that its your loss,
And leave it alone
Because to you,
A stone is just a stone.


This past year, my daughter has been going to this cooperative nursery school for 2.5 hours a day, 2 days a week. The parents "co-op" a few times a month, where they are in the class room helping the teachers, cleaning and such. You also have to participate as a member, serving on committees, events, etc. Its a great school, a great idea and I love the kids. The parents...not so much. I haven't felt this "unliked" since high school. I am a generally warm person, always trying to put others at ease, but I don't put myself out there much. Im not always comfortable with new people, but don't usually have trouble, but here...man...its like I have the word BITCH written on my forehead. And the only reason it really bothers me, is because it involves my child. I don't get it...really.

Regardless, I signed up for next year (because Inara loves it!). Maybe I need a mantra to keep me lifted out of the bullshit :)

Gil Scott-Heron ~ RIP~ 1949-2011

Winter in America

From the Indians who welcomed the pilgrims
And to the buffalo who once ruled the plains
Like the vultures circling beneath the dark clouds
Looking for the rain
Looking for the rain

Just like the cities staggered on the coastline
Living in a nation that just can't stand much more
Like the forest buried beneath the highway
Never had a chance to grow
Never had a chance to grow

And now it's winter
Winter in America
Yes and all of the healers have been killed
Or sent away, yeah
But the people know, the people know
It's winter
Winter in America
And ain't nobody fighting
'Cause nobody knows what to say
Save your soul, Lord knows
From Winter in America

The Constitution
A noble piece of paper
With free society
Struggled but it died in vain
And now Democracy is ragtime on the corner
Hoping for some rain
Looks like it's hoping
Hoping for some rain

And I see the robins
Perched in barren treetops
Watching last-ditch racists marching across the floor
But just like the peace sign that vanished in our dreams
Never had a chance to grow
Never had a chance to grow

And now it's winter
It's winter in America
And all of the healers have been killed
Or been betrayed
Yeah, but the people know, people know
It's winter, Lord knows
It's winter in America
And ain't nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows what to save
Save your souls
From Winter in America

And now it's winter
Winter in America
And all of the healers done been killed or sent away
Yeah, and the people know, people know
It's winter
Winter in America
And ain't nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows what to save
And ain't nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows, nobody knows
And ain't nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows what to save

Home is Where the Hatred Is

A junkie walking through the twilight
I’m on my way home
I left three days ago,
but noone seems to know i’m gone
Home is where the hatred is
Home is filled with pain and it,
might not be such a bad idea if i never, never went home again
Stand as far away from me as you can and ask me why
hang on to your rosary beads
close your eyes to watch me die
you keep saying, kick it, quit it, kick it, quit it
God, but did you ever try
to turn your sick soul inside out
so that the world, so that the world
can watch you die
Home is where i live inside my white powder dreams
home was once an empty vacuum that’s filled now with my silent screams
home is where the needle marks
try to heal my broken heart
and it might not be such a bad idea
if i never, if i never went home again.

Running

Because I always feel like running
Not away, because there is no such place
Because if there was, I would have found it by now
Because it's easier to run,
Easier than staying and finding out you're the only one who didn't run
Because running will be the way your life and mine will be described,
As in "the long run"
Or as in having "given someone a run for his money"
Or as in "running out of time"
Because running makes me look like everyone else, though I hope there will ever be cause for that
Because I will be running in the other direction, not running for cover
Because if I knew where cover was, I would stay there and never have to run for it
Not running for my life, because I have to be running for something of more value to be running and not in fear
Because the thing I fear cannot be escaped, eluded, avoided, hidden from, protected from, gotten away from,
Not without showing the fear as I see it now
Because closer, clearer, no sir, nearer
Because of you and because of that nice
That you quietly, quickly be causing
And because you're going to see me run soon and because you're going to know why I'm running then
You'll know then
Because I'm not going to tell you now


everything I love in an artist - rest in peace, may you find the dimension where the revolution is no longer necessary.

*patting myself on the back*

Almost year ago on June 7th, a friend took a picture of me that I hated and launched a revolution!

I had my son early, I was 21 and my body bounced back pretty quickly. I had my daughter when I was 35, it was a difficult/complicated pregnancy, a very ripped apart delivery and I spent 2 years nursing her. At 37, my body was wrecked LOL, seriously. After I stopped nursing, I quickly lost 10-15 pounds, but I wasn’t happy with my shape. My energy was pretty low and my motivation was zero, until I saw that picture.

Since then, I have committed to making exercise a part of my life. It wasn’t about loosing weight, it was about regaining control and strength. Three weeks early, I have reached a pretty big milestone. In the past 11 months, I have walked 500 miles (805 kilometers)! That’s more 1.3 million additional steps, about an average of 12 miles per week. Now, I walk, run, do core and strength training at least 4 times per week. I make time for it, it gives me perspective and burns some of my restless energy better than yoga…its good stuff.

So today, I am celebrating! To my health …cheers :)

The Saint

There is no suffering for the one
who has completed the journey,
who is freed from sorrow,
who has freed oneself on all sides,
who has thrown off all chains.

The thoughtful exert themselves;
they do not delight in a home;
like swans who have left their lake,
they leave their house and home.

Those who have no accumulations, who eat properly,
who have perceived release and unconditioned freedom,
their path is difficult to understand,
like that of birds in the sky.

Those whose passions are stilled,
who are indifferent to pleasure,
who have perceived release and unconditioned freedom,
their path is difficult to understand,
like that of birds in the sky.

Even the gods admire one whose senses are controlled,
like horses well tamed by the driver,
who is free from pride and free from appetites.
Such a dutiful one who is tolerant like the earth,
who is firm like a pillar,
who is like a lake without mud:
no new births are in store for this one.

One's thought is calm;
calm is one's word and one's action
when one has obtained freedom by true knowledge
and become peaceful.
The one who is free from gullibility,
who knows the uncreated, who has severed all ties,
removed all temptations, renounced all desires,
is the greatest of people.

In a village or in a forest, in a valley or on the hills,
wherever saints live, that is a place of joy.
Forests are delightful; where others find no joy,
there the desireless will find joy,
for they do not seek the pleasures of the senses.

- Lord Buddha

ego

My father is a chauvinist, always has been. Vertically challenged, with an intellectual case of short mans disease, he is dismissive to women and undermines their authority at every imagined slight. Graduating from high school, he told me that college wasn’t for me, that perhaps I was better suited for secretary school. At the age of 19, I joined the Navy, he told me I wouldn’t make it. I stopped speaking to him for a few years and there are days lately when I want to cut him out again due to his disrespect.

I am an over achiever. I am fiercely self sufficient. I am fearless and brave to the point of arrogant confidence. Anything that supposedly cannot be done, I will do and will silently throw it around in my aura of “up yours”. I do not boast, I no longer pound my chest in pride…these days Im content on watching people squirm in their need to size me up.

So, needless to say, the two are linked. I have strove for my fathers approval blindly my whole life and didn’t realize his chauvinism until the last five years or so. My over achieving and desire to prove him wrong has branded me, molded me. And now, as I routinely find myself chaffed by his disrespectful and dismissive comments, I realize finally, that I threaten him. A coward, a small man with insecure thought processes…I should pity him. Instead, this revelation makes me tilt my head waaaaaay back and laugh from the depths of my core. All the pain he inflicted on my sense of who I am, all the unjust judgment, all the personal affronts…they were just his way of posturing.

The number one enemy of compassion, is the ego.

My ego is stemmed from his chauvinism.
My ego is why his chauvinism hurts me.
My ego prevents me from forgiving either one of my parents.
My ego stands in my way like a fortress, it taints my progress.
My ego is silent and loud at the same time, it colors every action, every intent.

Conceptually, I understand how to rid myself of the obvious forms of attachment, but I grip onto my ego like a life preserver. Who would I be without the ego that has shaped and defined me?

green colored glasses

Its funny how spring plays tricks on the mind…everywhere I look there is green, creeping into every crevice, filling in the air between branches, gracefully carpeting every hill, every field…just a few weeks ago the stark barren contrast was a depressing ode to loss…now I can barely remember the feeling. I look out and expect to see a trace of it somewhere, but thankfully it has retreated. It’s a testament to the power of rejuvenation. A witness to the minds the ability to forget and discard the unpleasantness. Spring is bursting at the seams and with it, my hope, my gratitude, my spirits, all full and ripe. Yes, YES!! Indeed.

stale

the air I breathe is full of naked moments left behind in a fire,
charred, the journals of my once inspired mind fell to dust.
now more of a nuisance,
a nagging tug at my inability to create magic.
it falls around and lingers on every breath,
choking the whispers of my forgotten intuitive prose.
the neglect I feel from myself is glaring.
to offer myself upon the letters that produce words,
which build lines, that create pieces of me,
is no longer a part of the air I breathe.
the science of my charm sits un-soothed,
blistered and raw.
the urge ever present, but the flow never expressed.
defeat collects in the absence of encouragement,
it pools and assembles war against the pen
using insecure tactics and bindings that pinch your nerve to try anyway.
I yearn for the community that previously made me whole...
full of likeminded artists who filled the air I breathe
with vibrant colors and imaginative rhythm.
sated my lungs with purpose that bled to my fingers instinctually,
possessed with the need to release and engrave my emotion on the page.
but not today,
not in this fade that has become my insipid existence
starved for oxygen
greedy for a view outside myself
to rejuvenate this stale air I breathe.