I love writing. I try not to edit what is emerging from my writing zone, and I post, or send out a poem to a friend along with the excitement I felt while writing. Then, a little bit later, I'll look at what I have written, and almost always there is an Oops moment. Most times, if it is a glaring omission, or strewn concept, I will revise and hastily resend, not wanting to misrepresent myself, or my work. I am currently trying to slow down and re-read before sending, or po
When I am feeling sorrow, a deep cry is releasing itself from deep within my bones and organs. . Sometimes a cry escapes when I feel the joy of recognition, of something I don't quite understand. It comes unexpectedly, and often with no thoughts attached. It comes in the middle of authentic dance movement, or from the depths of my soul, when I recognize a truth. It comes when music vibrates my heart and solar plexus. It comes from my voice when I allow it to express how i
I was feeling into my center today, adjusting my chest, relaxing my shoulders and solar plexus, and noticing how and if my breathing was being affected by these adjustments. As my body began to be in alignment, my breathing eased, and a sensation of resting molecules, connected to the space I was inhabiting became my reality.
We try everyday to do our best. Our best is often defined by someone outside ourselves, by an ideal set by another person or belief. So, we imagine what our best should be based on our influences. Sometimes we are too tired to do our imagined best, and do the best we can, for that day. What is our best, anyway? Could the idea of best be too competitive and stressful? Maybe my best is relaxing in a tense world, maybe my best is waking up happy, and then, maybe, my best is