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”
Wherever she went
There She was.
What’s a girl to do with that?
On that summer day
Intoxicated by the scent of her childhood
The frangipani blossoms on the tree in front of her
That beautiful bungalow all wooden house
With hammocks underneath
And the outdoor shower made of galvanized sheets placed together in a rectangle
And Next to it
…a giant old copper tub that they used to boil sugar cane juice on the plantations in the olden days, before she was born
She remembered the caterpillars
Trailing along the branches of this tree; believing in the magic they brought…
And she remembered the white gravel yard beneath heated by the sun against her toes
As she looked up toward them,
with not a care in the world but being a child…
As she walked through the halls
Of her favorite museum
sharing stories through its walls
she thought about life & purpose and being of use
It occurred to her that the
And the in-
In a life well lived
None more than the other…
of pine &
ladybugs & fireflies
A patch of wild
And could not help but
pick a few
She smiled at the memory
Of the peach stand in Georgia
And the thirst she felt
Two hours later
On the road
Somewhere south of it
Her lips kissed the burnt orange color
Marveling at the
dreams she drove toward
Images came so easily back then
And the juice
The side of her mouth
As she laughed out
Could life get any better than this moment?
she knew there will no longer
Be biting into peaches now
They must now be cut up into
since her mouth did not allow it
And she had such gratitude
That on that day, she opted to stop by the peach stand