{Stacked Up}

"I'm a walking, talking enigma. We're a dying breed." -Larry David

{Gentle}

Learning to love differently is hard, love with the hands wide open, love with the doors banging on their hinges, the cupboard unlocked, the wind roaring and whimpering in the rooms rustling the sheets and snapping the blinds that thwack like rubber bands in an open palm. -Marge Piercy To Have Without Holding

{Old Soul}

There is a beautiful thing inside you that is thousands of years old. Too old to be capture in poems. Too old to be loved by everyone. But loved so very dearly by a chosen few. ~Nikita Gill

{January love letter}

“My dear, In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love. In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile. In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm. I realized, through it all, that… In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back. Truly yours, Albert Camus” This is worth reposting both the pictures and the quotes. Especially in the heart of winter...January of all months. One day I will like January. It is my mission to figure out a way to enjoy January, specifically in Minnesota. So I'll make it a point to take out my camera and try to capture some pictures today. I've been organizing photos that go back years and have gotten lost in old images. But I get twitchy and can sense when it's time to make some art. It's above 20 today so I don't risk my fingers becoming frostbit and/or frozen to the shutter of my camera. I also won't offend anyone with the ranting of cuss words that flow off my tongue when it gets too cold. It's just figuring out what to shoot. Everything is white and grey right now and I'll have to pull deep to find a nugget of inspiration....but I accept this challenge. It's on January!

{Aspirations}

She tastes like nectar and salt. Nectar and salt and apples. Pollen and stars and hinges. She tastes like fairy tales. Swan maiden at midnight. Cream on the tip of a fox’s tongue. She tastes like hope. Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke and Bone Hope is a beautiful thing and these days I feel it coursing through my life again. Despite a day spent of crabby patty row, I find these days are filled with possibility and wonder. This is remarkable place to be again. For some time, I moved through my days in slow motion, spinning in circles with a few shuffles backwards. I'd wake up and throw darts at the day, letting it lead me like a dustball in the wind...which is out of character for me. I've always had goals and direction for my life, keeping in mind flexibility to life's unexpected surprises. I GET life will hand eveyone there share of lessons but my god, am I ready for smooth sailing. I prefer to laugh more than cry during the day. Feel things and have drive toward dreams. When those are missing, it's like living in one of the mazes I remember from the movie the Mazerunner....Let's try this way, bam {knock head into cement wall}, nope that hurt. Bad. Proceed to the crying part. Now it's more like the movie Up, with a beautiful colorful house effortlessly lifting towards a bright and promising direction. Quite lovely and much preferred state of being. And my dreams aren't nightmares anymore. I dream so deeply and soundly. There are movies in my mind. And I enjoy the show instead of waking up, drenched in sweat and filled with sheer panic. I am grateful for the opportunities and the new people that add so richly to my life. Sharing with me the journey of recovery and rebirth from brokenness. They listen, make me laugh and just understand the complexity and grace it takes to boldly move into a new direction. Leaning heavy into faith. This will be a good year. A hopeful year. A happy year And I'm sure filled with surprises and sweet sweet grace.

{Cradle}

“I had lines inside me, a string of guiding lights. I had language. Fiction and poetry are doses, medicines. What they heal is the rupture reality makes on the imagination. I had been damaged, and a very important part of me had been destroyed - that was my reality, the facts of my life. But on the other side of the facts was who I could be, how I could feel. And as long as I had words for that, images for that, stories for that, then I wasn't lost.” ― Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

{tucked away}

"Only mystery allows us to live, only mystery.” ― Federico García Lorca I did not play the Powerball, but hypothetically if I did play and it turned out I won...Besides purchasing my farm home and a small island on the equator to retreat to January through March (there had to brome drama on a subzero day).... I'd always have flowers to surround my life. And to surround the people I love. They make me happy and add color and zest to the day. Even when they wilt, I still find them beautiful. And for the most part there hasn't been a flower I've met that I haven't appreciated. Well, perhaps the Lily but only because it reminds me of funerals and leaves me gasping for air. flowers are like letters, they send messages, tell stories and leave memories which warm my heart.