Thinking of all those who add to the story… past, present – interwoven. The layers and complexities of this wonderful intricate life, its hurdles and lessons only increasing the surface area for more receptivity and loving. To exist at the edge of understanding…. edge of the unknown. — Grounded in the foundation of the welcomed mundane interwoven with extraordinary. O you beautiful people of my life -know that I appreciate and love you so very much… and hold Gratitude for your presence always…. xo

a house, a home…

Empty House
I see you
I see your stories

Remenber when I used to run around
With the hope
That only a child can carry?

You were so huge to me
Rooms and rooms of laughter
Card playing
Ice cream churning

Agie’s love.

The smell of guava jam
Freshly made
From the trees next to you

And the grapefruits that used to be there…

Empty House
Your color has faded
Louvers cracked with experience
Your rooms empty and worn

You will always
Be the fuel for
The best in me

“Take it all back to have you”….

The man entered the lobby of the hotel…
outside of his office..
swerving his arms dancing as if he was an eagle..

joy on his face
it was four days before Christmas.
I stayed there overnight in a random town close to Detroit
on my way to Toronto.

I heard the catchy tune of the banjo in the background….
as he mouthed..
to no one in particular..
“take it all back, take it all back… take it all back to have you…”.

I felt his joy.

I thought it was a new Christmas song out that I had not heard.
I left to continue my road trip…..
with many stories behind each stop.. (for another time)
as I encircled lake Erie..
at the dawn of the winter Hurricane.

Weeks later,
waiting in line at a coffee shop
In a place very far away…
the radio plays…
“take it all back, take it all back… take it all back to have you…”.

and I see the swirling man
again in my mind’s eye
as if he was transported there

I feel the smile inside out
at the circle of life things
that make it all worthwhile.

Days later I am reminded of the connection

I then listen to the song in full
and feel such resonance
for the melody as millions of others had
behind the sparks of divinity and love
that created it…

and I know without a doubt
that every expression
of yours and of mine…

— as an instrument of the infinite

of the … most high love
and joy
and grace and beauty and kindness…
manifest on this world…

You matter. It matters.
your raw unfiltered creative expressions matters

the ones that require no polishing in its beauty — matters

your stamp on the world matters.

your courage matters.

your vulnerability matters.

they say we are all ‘god having a human experience’.
moments like these
make a believer of me…




She observed the waves
coming ashore
kissing the sand
which then melts into it

eroding, destroying

the relationship to
the shoreline
being destroyed
to be recreated

It was inevitable.

she welcomed
all of it.

knowing the edge
was meant
to cut apart
to what was real

she welcomed



As she looked out a the ocean, listening to the waves come in, watching the people walk by, she knew that there was more she wanted, than what had been. “Perhaps this is what we all want” she thought, “that pervasive, intangible something-more that is actually always just beyond the known, and unreachable but also has the power to keep us thirsting for more. “Does thirsting mean discontent?  Not necessarily.

Was this real or imagined?  Was it attainable or simply an illusion we all ended up fooling ourselves into in order to feel better? When we dare to enter the discomfort of the unknown. She knew that the answer was not to run away or deny its existence. The answer was to feel into it and trust it as an integral part of being alive.

So in the midst of recognizing there was much she simply did not know, she knew with certainty in her silent moments, that there were words in her, desiring to be shared.  She often felt surprised by how many words keep manifesting once she sat down to write. [most of it junk she was sure].

She had a theory that everything that was ever meant to be said, had been shared already by someone else ‘out there’ – and she dreaded redundancy.

She  was aware that her armature intentions would likely be dismissed in certain circles. But somehow none of it mattered.

On this day, the voice was so loud she stood up and stretched as the ocean met her.  Her desire was to finally begin writing the stories that were in her.  For no other reason, than to touch the pulse of life within her and to honor the creative impulse that allowed her to plug into the world with all that really mattered – her integrity.

And so she began, and knew that the next best steps would unravel as perfectly as every step before it.  It was simply how life worked – and she trusted it.  As she walked along the beach, she began  painting her intentions:

“I’d like to introduce you to characters I have met, loved, imagined or dabbled with over my life. I hope to leave you feeling a spark of delight, goodness, curiosity, hope, resonance and most of all love.
I dare to dream that through my words, I may leave you with even a dash of inspiration & connection — to this amazing thing we call being human. Join me on my journey… all are welcome”