some blessed quiet time,
a candlelit bath,
soft music playing,
then resting and reading.
A walk in the woods,
finding a perfect spot,
setting up the hammock,
resting, reading, musing.
Staring up at the trees,
breathing deeply, swaying,
writing out my heart’s desires.
A nourishing meal
and more writing.
moving every part of my body,
a shared experience in Nia class.
Back home, a shower,
and here I am, tired and calm.
It was a good day,
a full day, a day of self-care.
It occurs to me that many
such fulfilling days
will lead to a fulfilling life.
I keep writing these poems
because it has become a habit
to write one poem every day.
It has become part of my practice
to concentrate my thoughts,
to choose a few words,
to express a sliver of what is alive in me.
Sometimes a sliver is all that is needed
to let in the light the world needs.
Just do it.
It doesn’t have to be perfect.
It doesn’t even have to be any good.
It’s the act of creating that matters,
unleashing forces that have lain dormant,
awakening to your self, your voice…
You don’t even need to show your creations
to anyone else,
just let your Self be seen by yourself.
Getting lost in some creative endeavor
is an act of prayer and a blessing.
Tuning into what you have within you
waiting to be expressed
and having the courage to express it–
this is an act of salvation.
And as you save yourself,
as you honor yourself
you inspire others to do the same.
As we join together in our
individual acts of creation,
we strengthen the web of life.
As we allow ourselves to be vulnerable
our true courage shines forth.
Create, or let your destructive thoughts win.
The creator and the destroyer
both live and breathe inside you.
Which do you choose–
saboteur or muse?
Do it now.
Draw a picture,
sing a song,
do a little dance,
tell a story.
Plant a flower,
This life isn’t just about toil and strain–
it is also about connection
and simple moments of clarity
There is an essence in you
that is unique to you,
and we want to see it.
Do it now.
Today I danced.
It was an ordinary moment
just after lunch.
My son was (thankfully) napping,
my daughter was drawing,
my husband was watering the grass seedlings
and all was quiet.
Yes, just an ordinary moment,
except suddenly it was extraordinary.
Maybe it was the
the brightness of the spring afternoon sun,
the way the flowers were blooming vibrantly,
the way my daughter’s light step
reminded me of one of the fairy folk
who has flitted through my dreams–
and suddenly I needed to dance.
Outside on the patio
next to pots of blooming pansy,
alyssum, begonia, and impatiens
I put on my favorite Scottish band,
the Tannahill Weavers,
music bursting out
from a little Bluetooth speaker
perched on our high brick wall.
The pipes, the guitars, the drums, the vocals
stirred my heart
and then my body
and suddenly I was leaping and swirling
and spinning and whirling
and remembering why I love dancing.
My daughter looked up at me
with such love in her eyes
and told me as I danced
You are my sunflower.
This means I love you.
I kept dancing,
and I felt free.
It is so glorious to be alive.