When I was a child, the word most often applied to me was shy. Not true. I simply enjoyed watching. Everything. Every night, I would write in my book, a book I had liberated from my father’s store. An order book. Lines and spaces. I could print very well by the age of five so I considered myself a writer because what I printed looked just like the books I read.
Writing has been my best friend since childhood. My bedroom window opened onto a gigantic oak tree with a notch I would climb into once I got rid of my parents, an easy task since they were people who did not necessarily want children. Before therapy became the response to those of us who were non-conformists, and journaling became the go-to for all forms of wretchedness or well-being, I held readings from my book about what I had seen, what my dreams were, and who was mean. My audience was the man in the moon, the stars, the trees, whomever or whatever else was out there. Always a friendly crowd. I still have memories of my father trying to calm my screaming mother when they found me out there in the morning, asleep.
My “formal” writing started with messages stuffed into my father’s empty whiskey bottles, rare commodities since he was a shot-with-dinner guy, and I would set them free in the ocean across the street. I also had my notes to Santa which I stashed in milk bottles my mother left in a container that sat on the doorstep because I heard the delivery man was Catholic and, therefore, a Santa person. I learned that connection in Hebrew school. I was raised in an Orthodox Jewish family, so the Santa-et-al thinking, along with the bacon my mother stashed in a Tupperware container she labeled “broccoli” in our highly kosher refrigerator, were early signs that I was destined to live a life of creative non and real fiction. I also wrote my own (fabulous) absence notes for school since my mother had withdrawn from a great deal of parenting. Apparently, no one read them or perhaps they knew our lives.
I immersed myself in A-level papers throughout the thousands of years I spent gathering degrees and debt. Eventually, and at times simultaneously, I produced ardent and (hopefully) articulate political protest letters (an ongoing effort), sold some short stories, and even built a life in New York publishing. Prose was my go-to and then, after a ten-year silence brought on by wars private and other, poetry emerged. The shy girl now has two voices.
Carl Jung says that each one of us carries the collective, so I now consider my writing an a cappella chorus. Does anyone else find it funny that the quiet one is now the mouthpiece? My father the gangster is out there laughing somewhere. He always introduced me as the jail-house lawyer to be. Maybe he was a visionary.
Now my title is psychotherapist. People tell me stories all day. For more than thirty years I have been listening to stories. I tell people to keep “talking” no matter the form: Write. Paint. Dance. Grow flowers. Bake. Fold the sheets on your bed as neatly as you want or don’t want. Keep magazines that are 10 years old because you like the memories. House neat, house messy – you need to feel satisfied. Shame is given to you by others. Happy is given to you by you. You decide how much or how little you need the words of others to bring you joy or peace or laughter as much as that bad brownie you baked or the new purple stripe in your hair.
Yes, there are boundaries, and, yes, there are rules. Find your space (mine was in a tree) and celebrate the life you make. Tree notches are everywhere.
I feel like we forget sometimes that it’s not about sharing our story but the wisdom that comes from the experiences.
You don’t have to have everything figured out to be great. It is who you are naturally.
You just have to be you.
And continue to be you.
That is your power.
Because no one else can do that
It’s all you.
And knowing that
is the greatest thing you could ever know.
I feel like we get caught up in trying new things
or trying to figure out life
that we forget to check in.
To check in with the one who got us this far in the first place.
It’s important to check in
it keeps you balanced
and connected
to the source.
The source within
Homegirl
Dedicated to the original scriber
If I Can Do it So Can You
When I was a child, the word most often applied to me was shy. Not true. I simply enjoyed watching. Everything. Every night, I would write in my book, a book I had liberated from my father’s store. An order book. Lines and spaces. I could print very well by the age of five, so I considered myself a writer because what I printed looked just like the books I read.
Writing has been my best friend since childhood. My bedroom window opened onto a gigantic oak tree with a notch I would climb into once I got rid of my parents (an easy task since they were people who did not necessarily want children). Before therapy became the response to those of us who were non-conformists, and journaling became the go-to for all forms of wretchedness or well-being, I held readings from my book about what I had seen, what my dreams were, and who was mean. My audience was the man in the moon, the stars, the trees, whomever or whatever else was out there. Always a friendly crowd. I still have memories of my father trying to calm my screaming mother when they found me out there in the morning, asleep.
My “formal” writing started with messages stuffed into my father’s empty whiskey bottles, rare commodities since he was a shot-with-dinner guy, and I would set them free in the ocean across the street. I also had my notes to Santa which I stashed in milk bottles my mother left in a container that sat on the doorstep because I heard the delivery man was Catholic and, therefore, a Santa person. I learned that connection in Hebrew school. I was raised in an Orthodox Jewish family, so the Santa-et-al thinking, along with the bacon my mother stashed in a Tupperware container she labeled “broccoli” in our highly kosher refrigerator, were early signs that I was destined to live a life of creative non and real fiction. I also wrote my own (fabulous) absence notes for school since my mother had withdrawn from a great deal of parenting. Apparently, no one read them or perhaps they knew our lives.
I went on to immerse myself in A-level papers throughout the thousands of years I spent gathering degrees and debt. Eventually, and at times simultaneously, I produced ardent and (hopefully) articulate political protest letters (an ongoing effort), sold some short stories, and even built a life in New York publishing. Prose was my go-to and then, after a ten-year silence brought on by wars, private and other, poetry emerged. The shy girl now has two voices.
I am a psychotherapist. People tell me stories all day. For more than thirty years I have been listening to stories. Carl Jung says that each of us carries the collective, so I now consider my writing an a cappella chorus. Does anyone else find it funny that the quiet one is now the mouthpiece? My father the gangster is out there laughing somewhere. He always introduced me as the jail-house lawyer to be. Maybe he was a visionary.
Daley, I love this! I love that you redefined yourself. You weren’t shy, you were an observer. Your creativity shines through in your writing and I am happy that you have found a career where you can let your creative side flourish. Keep up the great work. ♥
It seems like every day a dream comes true.
I get to wake up
feel the warmth of the sunshine on my skin
take my first breath of the day
lift my arms, wiggle my legs
take the biggest stretch I can
Filling my body with so much love
Every day is a dream.
It’s another chance to make someone smile
or to laugh
To feel all the bubbly emotions inside
To embrace who I am
to the fullest
Allowing myself to shine
Expressing my passion through art
or words
Sharing myself with those I love
I am living my dream
I get to wake up and be me
with no shame or judgement
and no fear of trying to be someone I’m not
This whole life is a dream
It’s a chance to explore me
The real me
The one who gets to dream
Maggie, this is so cute. I love your positivity and outlook on life. Every day is a new opportunity! Every day is a new page in your book! I love this so much. You are the kind of person that people WANT to be around all the time because you radiate such good energy! Love it. Great work.
Dear Angela, I am writing you a letter to say thank you. I remember in my childhood I loved to play! My sister and I would always pretend to be teachers! Then it dawned on me that my inner self further down the road on my journey would end up becoming a teacher! As a child you don’t know what you know until you grow. You are just a child trying to grow up the best that you can. Little did I know that this little girl would grow up embracing herself. As I reflect on my childhood, as a little girl, I learned to love myself! I believe that my childhood memories were beautifully made by filling my time with play. Back in my day, social media was obsolete but in my younger years it became a treasure that using your five senses would become so rewarding. I remember playing marble, jacks, pick up sticks, kick ball, tether ball, and with ants! Yes, I said ants! I lived at the end of a street and next to a tree lined fiend. My dead-end street was safe enough for me to build ant homes on the curb in the dirt and I used pieces of clear plastic for the windows for those ants in the ant hospital. Of course, it sounds weird but it’s called play. The power of play will never go away. I loved the outdoors for running, racing, picking blackberries in the bushes for my mother to make blackberry pie! My sister and brother also help to pick these berries too! It was a fun thing to do. I remember I absolutely loved riding my Big Wheel and my bike on the sidewalk and on my dead – end street. My inner self was so open to the world around me. I enjoyed my childhood as a little girl so much that I attribute it to the fact that I was taken good care of so much that I was able to feel safe to explore. Growing up, I was inquisitive, and enthusiastic and this may be why I had so much fun! I was also very in tune with whom I was. I want to say thank you to my inner child for being brave, and imaginative but the best thing I like most about my child was that I enjoyed the moment I was in. I want to say thank you Angela for exploring, and playing with your hands, running in the sun, picking berries, and enjoying the world I was given. I loved that I was able to feel free to connect with me, myself and I! I felt as a young child special, I felt loved and as I look back and say, “I never thought all that I did would make me become a successful citizen by giving back to my community in a positive way.” Those early childhood years made me strong, and determined to never give up and to find my way. I love you Angela a lot more than I ever thought I could. You have given me sunshine and warmth and I hope to continue my lifelong journey still enjoying my life and to always remember who I am.
Sincerely, Angela
Angela, this is such a cute story and letter. I am glad that you have such good childhood memories and that they shaped you into the wonderful person that you are today. I love that you saw a connection between how you grew up to the current situation you are in today! You are such a confident person and I aspire to be more like you!! You’re…read more
To my younger self.
Don’t remain suppressed.
Perplexed.
What’s next?
Hard-pressed.
Constantly stressed.
Life’s a mess.
Nevertheless.
Let out my younger self.
Emotionally flex.
Don’t compete complement.
Out loud in text.
No’s and yes.
Dirty and fresh.
Poor and blessed.
Let out my younger self
Don’t remain suppressed.
Kelly, I love this!! Do not suppress your childhood self! She is the first chapter of your story and even though there may have been things you don’t want to remember or regrets that you may have from that time, you can’t ever forget about her. Don’t leave her in the past just because you have changed. Celebrate her! It may be difficult, but I…read more
Chardy Pooh you did not Know!
You were so brave, You did not even know how much!
You stood up for self-value. Even when you did not know you were.
You stood up for being different!
You did not know that.
You stood up for peer pressure.
You did not know that.
You stood up for love.
You did not know it.
You stood up for hope.
You did not know it.
You were a strong person who stood for people, rights, love and acceptance!
You did not even know it. You did not know, you had anything to love about yourself. You did not know you had anything to be proud of. That’s why you almost did not write this letter. You did not know, but now you know! You had something to love! Something to be proud of!
I love and am so proud of you Chardy Pooh!!!
Aww, Charmaine, this is so cute. It is so crazy to know that we can do so many things that we might regret, or depend on in the future! You truly never know what is ahead of you! So, always do what is best for you! Stay true to yourself, like you did as a child, and keep your head up! Great work ♥
Silence polluted the apartment
like smoke from my father’s cigars.
My mother made rare appearances
due to lengthy bookings in darkened rooms.
My uncle the doctor gave me candy
when he visited her.
The Rabbi said I needed to be patient.
I was nine; what is patience?
Every night
my father drank 2 shots of rye and read the paper
before he went to her room.
Her room. The Prima.
When he came out, he never saw me
standing outside the door.
I wanted to talk to the wizard;
Dorothy had it easy.
************************************************
Hey Blondie:
you were and are
amazing. Firstborn
Amerikansky,
with a boy’s name
whose genes for so
happy you started growing
and developing and were
too “big” for your age
so you wore mom’s clothes
and still thought you were
cute as you pranced around
wearing nothing but an apron,
while your baby brother laughed
and your mother cried.
You didn’t bother changing
as time moved around you;
you didn’t see the point
and still don’t. That’s why
I can still wear crazy barrettes
and thrift store treasures
that get missed by the
greater good. I know
you’re in charge!
Thank you for staying close
during all the hard times.
I’m sure that’s why
I can still laugh
with the best of them
and think a blue sky
or a day of rain is just
marvelous.
Yo cutie: Continue
to rock on.
Dale, this is so cute. I love that you have never lost your spunk and creativity throughout the years. You are so unique and I think your younger self would have loved to know that you never lost that feature. Keep being you because you are amazing! I aspire to be as carefree and quirky as you ☺♥
Miracle, this is so good! You have been through a lot and even though it was tough, you were so resilient and I am so proud of you for working through that. Although it was difficult, and at times you may want to forget they ever happened, the hardships that you faced helped shape you into who you are today! You are so strong and you should be…read more
I lost so many; how do I choose to write about just one?
I often feel like I have no pulse, or I am numb.
I embrace the warmth of the bright sun.
This is to my lost loved ones.
I have been blessed to have a life of inspiration.
They taught me how to navigate through aggravation.
I can still feel their presence and see their faces.
How can I feel so sad and at the same time so amazing?
My angels, my lost loves, my broken pieces of my heart turned into a beautiful puzzle.
The puzzles of memories placed in a frame make it emotional and lovable.
If I could get back that one dance, that one kiss, that one hug, I would be more huggable.
If only I could go back in the past and get into that good trouble.
To my lost loved ones, please keep a place for me and make sure it’s fun.
I miss all of you, so many, too many to count, there is no way I could just pick one.
Remember to cherish the now as the past can never become undone.
A big thank you to my lost loved ones.
Kelly, I am so sorry for your loss. Losing several people close to you can be so difficult to cope with. The memories and lessons that you correlate to these people are what will be with you forever. I am so happy that you got to experience such joy with these people. You are strong and will get through this! ♥
Kelly, I have lost a lot of people too, so I totally relate to this piece. I am glad you can feel warmth in the memories. Sending love and hugs. Thank you for sharing. <3 Lauren
I really miss you sometimes.
I wonder without you what I’m supposed to be.
To be myself you made me believe, you helped me to see all those things before me.
I know, I believe, I can achieve.
You are my true friend and you are in my heart forever.
You will always be my forever.I never thought in my heart, we would not see forever.
To my life here tomorrow, I have a future because you were there.
I can not go sometimes without crying and even laughing.
I miss you every day. I’m so glad you were here to give me encouragement along the way.
You always gave me a chance, gave me a cheer.
Today is a good day to say Hi Grand-Tee.
I’m so glad you were here.
Even now I feel your sweet love from the grave.
My love, you had to be!
Grand-Tee you made me feel so praiseworthy!
You keep me strong!
You made me hope!
I wish you were here so you can see what has opened..
It is amazing, it seems like you were gone so long.
But in my heart, you can never be gone!
I miss you, I love you.
You are my forever friend, so glad I had.
Because I needed someone to depend.
Tomorrow is gone. Today you are here. Tomorrow is for us.
One day we’ll be together again as a team!
This was a lovely letter to your Grand-tee and I loved reading it. It can be so hard to lose such a monumental figure but I am glad you are persevering. Keep writing and keep healing.
The Day You left Became the Day I Began
The Day you left became my strength within,
You were my fraternal twin,
From the day we met,
Our bond we kept,
Sisters forever,
We thrived together,
We played on our playset,
Laughing, running, jumping into the sunset,
Until that day that you left,
Oh, how I will never forget,
You were so much fun as we would grow and learn,
Now my heart yearns,
Throughout our school age years,
You protected me from my peers,
See we were a team,
We fought daily to have our dream,
We knew that together we were better,
Our differences did not matter,
Laughing, running, jumping together,
Until the day you left me forever,
I was so confused the day you became ill,
You were so strong and had great will,
The will to achieve,
The will to believe,
I just knew you could pull through, with the powers that be,
God knew and could hear my plea,
I could not help you but only be by your side,
Like twins do, I was in for the ride,
I never thought with all your strength and might,
That my forever sister would lose her fight,
I did find peace in my heart,
There was nothing that could keep us apart,
When a friend asked, how do I keep my order,
I simply said, it is my sister and her higher power,
You left me that day,
It must have not been your time to stay,
However, what never left was my vivid memories of how you protected me,
You left me with your strength deep down inside me,
You left me with your enthusiastic desire to win,
I know I will fight until the end,
Your strength your pride,
You left that for me on the inside,
I know that your love for me will never leave,
There is nothing I cannot achieve,
Because of your love for me and I for you,
There is nothing I cannot do,
I will always miss you forever,
My love for you I will never surrender,
Laughing, running, jumping, together,
You have inspired me my whole life through to be whatever I wish to be,
Nothing will ever separate you from me.
By Angela Pinkins
Angela, as a mother of fraternal twins I cannot imagine the pain you must feel at losing your sister. There is a strong connection between twins that transcends the bond between most siblings. I can tell this connection continues after death because of how you still feel your sister with you. Thank you for sharing your experience.
Thank you Emmy! Yes it has been a journey! I appreciate your kind words and especially the your comments on continuing our bond we shared in my heart! She is always in my mind and her love for me never left!
You would be proud of me now, directly, without having to bury a laugh or get your eyes back to normal when someone said something about me. Or when I told you my most recent story. Anyhow, you would be proud of me for a variety of reasons and likely this would be first: I finally stopped smoking. Finally. Had to do it with hypnosis, one of those things you didn’t ever believe in, but you know—it worked. For me. Years of bronchitis and you giving me shots finally took hold.
You told me I was so short because I had been sneaking Mom’s Pall Mall’s since I was 9 and boom! that was it for me. So, here I am in my full 5 feet 2 inches—that’s all I got, and I’m “clean”. Stopped at age 40. Right, I can hear you gasping and laughing. And I stopped.
And I know I am very fortunate. I never had cancer, and I know that’s what you worried about for me. You and the rest of the medical community you were surrounded by. That and asthma. And would need to wear oxygen, like Uncle George did. Chain smoking, you would say quietly. I know I’m lucky. Thank you for paying so much attention.
You would also be proud that I became a social worker. I help people, like you did. Not kids, no, pediatrics belongs to you. I’ve work with folks who have mental health and emotional disorders and need support and services. And someone to trust. And I am that person. And I’m good at it. Like you were with all those kids you treated over the years.
I learned later in life that you had not always been a pediatrician. It was something you chose after coming back from the war. You never spoke of any of that time, so I cannot imagine what happened to you. I have heard stories and watched films, and I began imagining you at the concentration camps, among the first in the US military groups that opened the camps. Chosen because at that time you were a doctor of internal medicine, a most necessary and useful skill during the war and especially at the camps. And you were the only one who spoke Russian and Yiddish, languages the prisoners understood and were comfortable with, so you were always chosen to be part of the teams that freed those dear people. You comforted so many. And buried so many. Our family’s history proved useful for that moment in time. Maybe not always for you, but for those you touched.
You never told any of us what you saw. Never. You said it was too sad. You chose to return to med school, to become a pediatrician so you could work in the world of hope. And so you did. You built a program at Beth Israel Hospital in Boston. You made house calls all over Boston and let me come with you. I watched kids leap all over you and laugh. And tolerate the quick shots they needed while you made faces and silly noises to distract them.
I remember you got paid in chickens, and vegetables and soups in pots and flowers to be planted and wood for fireplaces you didn’t have and cooked meals from all sorts of other nations. You and I were the brave ones. That I remember too. We ate some of everything we brought home while Auntie Selma watched us and pursed her lips, and my mother started praying for our safety.
I miss your ethics. Everyone got the same high level of care. I miss the moral stands you took on behalf of those who needed help. I miss your wicked sense of humor. I am so grateful I got to be “the nurse” even though I was only 14 and I’m so glad for all the secret ice cream stops we made and never talked about. My brother would have tried to come, and I love that I had you to myself and he could only wonder why I was so happy.
As I work with my clients now, I hope I display the integrity I witnessed and treat everyone with dignity. With my clients, I strive to honor our differences and encourage our similarities. I hope I bring the kind of hope to my clients that I saw when I traveled with you. Hope and heart and humanity.
Thank you for taking me along on a life journey that stays with me, even now.
Dale, this is such a sweet poem. I am sorry to hear about your loss. Your uncle would be SO proud of you!! You have become an amazing, intelligent person with a bright future ahead of you. It is so comforting to hear how large of an effect one person had on you, as I, and many others, hope to have the same impact on someone else. Great work.
Wow Dale, Your Uncle Irv was a true World hero. I appreciate the services he provided to humanity and I can’t imagine the horrors he saw in the world. I am sure you dedicated your career and life to other people makes him incredibly proud. He sounds like he was a wonderful human. I am sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing. <3 Lauren P.S. I am…read more
The Branchport Avenue Bridge, the sounds, the smell of the geese poop and the feel of the breeze is where I feel most at peace.
At church, where I worship, where I pray, where I serve, where I believe. At church is where I feel most at peace.
On the train going over the water, sitting and waiting for the next train to approach. The vibration and sounds of its purpose bring me to a place of ease. On the train is where I feel most at peace.
Sitting at the beach watching the water flow, the sun hitting against my skin, the wind telling me that you are next to me. The beach is where I feel most at peace.
Sitting by a campfire listening to its crackling, the smell of the smoke, the laughter of our loved ones. The memories of the old and the making of the new. In that moment I wish to sit and freeze. Sitting by a campfire is where I feel most at peace.
Peace is within me so where I am I have the ability to feel at peace. Let stress release and embrace the moments and the places that you feel most at peace.
This is truly inspiring, Kelly! People may feel peace while they are in certain places, however, the only way that they can experience true peace is if they have peace on the inside. My absolute favorite line of yours would be when you said “Peace is within me so where I am I have the ability to feel at peace” because it is so accurate!! You…read more
Prepping for the morning wash-up,
I found an all-to-familiar frowny face in the mirror,
squinty eyes peeking through hair
continuing to get thinner
as opposed to other pieces and parts
that could certainly benefit from that descriptive
and actual transformation according to
both my cardiologist and primary care MD
who recommend forms of exercise deeper than
tapping keyboards and wresting with steering wheels.
Suddenly,
my inner rock and roll maven showed up,
flashing her eyebrows up and down;
then the eyes went wide,
bringing the blue to the front,
allowing residual mascara to do its job
of highlighting long lashes.
She was chanting old doo-wop,
the stuff we miss in the alleged music of now,
which merged nicely into
duke, duke duke, duke of earl…
the best song of 1962,
which forced her to do rhythmic arm raises,
which moved to wide arm spreads,
which ended with rhythmic overhead clapping,
which automatically triggered
loud, loud singing which meant
stretching the lower half of her face
and shifting her shoulders,
and then she noticed her breasts waving,
but off rhythm,
so she cupped them (including the overflow)
and added them to the dance routine
and then she started twirling
which moved her into the hall.
On and on she went,
room to room,
noticing what needed to be picked up or dusted,
letting it all become memories,
until she saw a clock and vaguely remembered
one of us had a doctor’s appointment,
another one,
to address arthritis
or was it a hip today
or feet,
maybe the hands.
When there’s no one else at home,
the space becomes her venue,
so Pieces & Parts she rants
in her best Freddy Mercury howl,
AAAHHH-OOOOOO,
as she blows herself kisses,
and there is immediate relief
from the flowing angst
that ebbs and flows
from conversations
she would skip if she could,
and instead, now,
she seizes the moment
that brings her the song that
start the twirling,
inside and out,
as she blows herself kisses
while parading back and forth
in front of the bathroom mirror!
Yee-haw Taylor Swift!
Look out.
Dale, you are an absolute inspiration. We are never too old (or too young, for that matter) to embrace our inner rock and roll. I love how you transition from feeling some irritation about the struggles of aging to being a superstar in your home. I, too, find peace in singing and dancing spastically when no one else is around. Thank you so much…read more
Worry.
A tradition of the mind
that was not made for the soul.
A symptom of the lost
who forgot to come home.
A place where the mind runs free,
basking in the joy and abundance
Of the world around.
My little darling,
You do not have to be found.
For you are right where you need to be
in every moment
of every day
exactly where you are
letting your soul run free.
So do not worry.
For you will lose yourself
Running around each day
thinking how could this be?
When all along
All you had to do
Was put trust in your hand
and let life take the lead.
The first five stanzas could be its own poem!
“Worry.
A tradition of the mind
that was not made for the soul.
A symptom of the lost
who forgot to come home.”
so impactful. I love the message that worry keeps us stuck in our minds and causes us anxiety but our soul knows that worry is futile because everything happens for a reason and it all…read more
Have you heard?
The sky is falling.
Unpack the suitcase
said the little bird
parked in the nest
behind my eyes,
and she was chirping like mad.
The voice,
so like my mother’s
when she wanted to tell me something
was going to be too hard
or I was too small.
Don’t leave she would say.
Today the voice said
you are not to take
that trip to the high road,
you’re too small,
too tall,
too young,
too old,
too thin,
too fat —
whatever it is,
you are it
or have it.
Stay here, so you
and I can have tea for two.
I did what you’re doing, she chirped.
I left when I was your age
and my life has never
been the same.
Was it all bad
I asked?
It couldn’t be I said,
because here I am and look
at our house
and your fur coat
and all those hats with veils.
Pay attention to your dreams
I heard that voice whisper.
Was it crying?
Don’t stay inside the lines
like I did, the voice, went on.
Find open skies.
Buy big kites and fly.
Follow the gypsy path,
the river, deep and wide,
like that that Huckleberry Finn boy.
Stay on the roads less traveled,
talk to the people who make you cry
and laugh,
learn a bit of this and that,
and see if you can find
that which makes your heart
beat faster and your smile bigger.
Don’t go where people tell you to go
unless you feel that heartbeat rise
and your breath flows easily,
like when you sleep. A perfect fit.
There’s always time for a “this” – a hat-
or a “that”- a fur coat.
Or there isn’t.
Go where dreams take you.
What you will miss
may be there, or not,
whether you are or not.
Leap. Fly. Fall. Dance.
You will always find
bandages.
Make peace with loss;
accept either/or;
take “and” and hold it up to a mirror
next to “maybe”.
Stay connected
to your heart.
Always find the sky.
Check to see if it’s falling,
or whether that problem
is in someone else’s yard.
Fly kites so you keep looking up.
Laugh, if only to and with yourself.
If someone looks at you,
like you’re strange,
just smile and say:
Thank you.
I can tell embracing your uniqueness is a value of yours and I’m sure that’s inspired many great adventures and stories. A colorful life that’s true to yourself… inspiring! <3 Juvi
Why Worry?
Dear younger self, this is a letter to me. If I could have had the skills to not worry about the future, I would have been less anxious and enjoyed the ride.
Learning to live in the moment is a gift to yourself. Smelling the sweet nectar from the flowers blowing in the wind, to running that race around the bend. Playing outside Double-Dutch and kick ball in the street, playing with jacks and marbles with no cares but to be present while I was there. I remember my childhood vividly no cares, until I kept getting older and then I had some fears: fears of getting older and fitting in with my peers, joining social groups and exploring who I was within. I had some anxiety back then, sometimes difficult experiences worrying about my future and how it would end. Forgetting the time when I was outside playing and using my imagination with no certain cares in the world was refreshing. If I could tell myself back then, do not to fret, as I was to age and grow older each day and that would have been ok. Perhaps, I would have thought the sky would have been the limit. If I could have said to myself back then, yes! You can do that or this and eventually just get it done, then I guess this letter would not have had to be written. However, I would have told myself to dream big or even bigger and not to be anxious about the future. See the future will come but after the present. So, the present should have been soaking in the sun. Because the future was yet to come. So, why did you often worry about what was to come but to have embraced the time you had back then and wait patiently for your future to have begun. Yes, you will age, you will not know what is yet to come, but the experiences you had to face while you were young was shaping you into the woman you would become. Not worrying about whether I belonged because just being who you were was exactly who you were! You were born unique! If I had just known to have just trusted myself and spoke to myself to say your enough. Your smile, your laughter, your size, your weight, your height, your life is what the higher power has given you so embrace it and not to worry, because worrying about what is yet to come brings unnecessary anxiety that soils your tongue. If I could have done it all over again, I would know that I was a survivor and that my future was bright and yet to come!
Abigail, Thank you for accepting my friend request-that’s cool and inspiring in itself!!! You are a very beautiful woman with a lot of potential and an Awesome future!!! Your poem for the challenge was very breathtaking, exciting and powerful< almost like I was there myself! I like the part about "rising, falling our rhythm like a drum", it's…read more
This is so sweet! I love how much joy you find in your sport and your passion shows in your writing. You have an excellent flow and a lot of emotion in your piece and I really relate to being able to find peace within chaos 🙂 Thank you for sharing!