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

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

An Adventure

Having showered the night before, they wake up the next morning under the stars. Laying peacefully and comfortably. Not in a tent. No. They slept all night in the bed of a truck on a thick sleeping pad and lots of plush warm blankets.

Hair, cool from peeking out under the covers, a chill runs down her spine. She snuggles up next to him, A soft kiss lands on the top of her blonde wispy braid. Without saying a word, they both know the other is in paradise. It is almost as if the silence speaks for itself.

Their energies in a dance with each other. Their souls sparkle in the starlight, swirling around, captivated by love. Love. That word alone, almost a weak description of reality. Her head on his shoulder, her arm on his chest. His hand clasps hers. Their fingers intertwine as the sun wakes the sky and flowers bloom from their dreams. This moment lasts forever as they drift in and out of slumber.

His tummy rumbles, she giggles. Getting out of the makeshift bunk with just a blanket wrapped around her, she puts water on to boil for his oatmeal. They have a big day ahead. A waterfall to find and hot spring to follow.

The first spoken words that morning, after checking the oats aren’t too hot…

“Here you go my love”

“Thank you baby”

An adventure begins.

A Perfect Day

Waking up naturally with the sun. Feeling fully rested, long, lean. Slow steps towards the kitchen, sunbeams meet her there too. Hands wrapped around a warm glass of lemon water. She makes her way outside wrapped up in a big blanket and silence watching the world wake up. Maybe even drifting back into her dreams.

It’s time to start the day.

The coffee begins to trickle, she finds the raw milk and froths. While it cools, she dances around the kitchen listening to all her favorite songs. One cannot discern what lights up the room, her from the inside out or the sun from the outside in.

It’s off to the studio. Cleaning up from yesterday’s fun, stimulated sip by sip. What will she make today? Not to be decided immediately, she gets lost in the wheel. Thinking about everything and nothing all at once.

Surprised to see the hands at thirty and two, the farmers market finds her next. Fresh picks and a beautiful bouquet to satisfy a small indulgence, her basket is full. Vibrant victoria rhubarb, herbs, ruby raspberries, the perfect white fish on their way home.

In the kitchen again, delightful instruments ignite the space. She prepares for dear friends who are more than family. He waltzes with a crisp Riesling disguised as a taste to pair with the meal. They both know the bottle will be gone before anyone arrives.

Company at the door, candles are lit. Sitting down for the meal, staying for the conversation.

More wine. More laughter. More memories.

The sun has retired.

Curled back up on the front porch, together this time. Swinging reminiscing all the stories, giggly one liners, sweet glances across the table. He moves to pull her closer, realizing space between them doesn’t exist. A chuckle muffled by a kiss meets the top of her head.

It’s time for bed.

Swept off her feet, carried to their room, the evening comes to a perfect close with different fireworks.

A warm slow soft shower and into the sheets for a second time.

Sleep finds her immediately.

Falling

We flew too close to the sun and came crashing down. The secret is that this is a blessing in disguise.

Wings of wax are weak. We rebuild.

Wings of gold and steel are forged out of this fire and take us beyond the furthest point thought possible.

Apart this time. This time more beautiful.

Trust both can be true. 

The feelings, they begin to fade? In the rubble of the hurt, confusion, and struggle. Just as fires rage and find their end, strength and faith and growth to follow.

Belief sprouts through. 

It will be ok. It has to be. It’s going to hurt forever. 

Both can be true. 

With love and fondness and step by step..

Time - the healer of all, marches on