A lump in my throat. I did not dare to cry or make an effort to be seen because that would make people not love me even more than before due to my uncomfortable feelings. I hid my hurt, I hid my will to be and sucked it back up inside of me where it lay to fester and churn to only be brought up time and time again. A brick lay heavy on my chest, a rope tight around my neck and a burden heavy on my back. When will the day come to pass where these are lifted up and off, never to be felt again? I am ready for that day. My eyes, they are tired. A tired that I can no longer hide. A feeling that I no longer want to carry. I look in the mirror sometimes and always see midnight blue half moons under my eyes and all I can think of is, "I need more sleep, I need to get more sleep." So, then I "try" and my efforts are thwarted with resistance from my mind. All I want to do have in my life right now is consistent, restorative sleep. A night uninterrupted by terrifying dreams that wake me mid-rest. A full 8 hours, no breaks in between. Please !?!!?! What's it going to take for me to let go and live. To breathe in and out with ease and strength. To speak up and allow myself to be everything yet nothing. It is all that I need, truly. 

 And I want all the flavors.

How is something so bad for you, so damn good ? 

And I am mostly dairy-free, gluten-free, caffeine-free

Except for some times

which is most of the times, it seems

I will spend all my money on Starbuck's and fast food drive-thrus this week- what a shame, smh

I wish that there were only choices available that were healthy for us

This free will ordeal is too complicated

I am often weak in spirit and need something, anything to spike my state of being up and up. 

Through greasy fries, tangy ranch and the unique taste of coffee that sends me to a time where I felt most alive

But this time around, I will make sure it's decaf- I don't want to stress my adrenals

With oatmilk please, dairy produces mucus

but just a little ranch with my curly fries and cheese in my taco will be O.K. 

I can't believe I used to eat $.99 Breakfast Jack's with my boyfriend at 19, consistently 

And all those times, I meandered through the drive thru at 2 in the morning after being out and about, never finding what I wanted

but those curly fries with the ranch and those tacos with the sauce and questionable meat filling

they gave me what I wanted, for only the duration of time that I spent with them

Will they haunt me in the coming hours with a bad mood and an overburdened liver ?

Perhaps, but at least I'm not binge drinking, eating mass amounts of taco bell and staying up til 5 AM anymore 

So, I suppose I am doing alright and maybe when I am 40. I'll have this free will thing down and will only make choices that are good for me. 

 And all along she knew of all these things 

Never had she spoken them to me

To keep me safe from the war going on all around me

That is love, the love that I never felt nor seen but now I know so deeply as I am beginning to know the things that she too came to know and see in this world of wars mixed with peace 

A Mother within a Mother, cycling through and through 

Never perfect but always true 

 And there are many instances where I feel overwhelmed and buried underneath all the mess of this life. I gleen for simple tasks, simple virtues, and simple adventures that require little effort yet yield a magnitude of joy and gratitude for life and living. My anxiety sometimes likes to blow things up, way up ! It blows up into a big production with everything and everyone needing a certain place and a certain way to act, myself included. I search for the best costume, think of the best lines and go out in search for the best props that will win the award for Best Motion Picture. And a script for each scene and how it will play out and what it will get me. Before you know it, I have a set that is filled with odds and ends, clothes that don't fit quite right, a chest full of written lines that I keep going back to and reading for some sort of sign. A way out perhaps is what I am looking for but instead through all this anxious planning I create a deeper hole in the messiness of it all. What I'd prefer, or at least desperately need while sifting through embittered ends is space and minimal distraction. A place to create freely, a place to love willingly and openly. A place where my interests are minute and tactful where the container is open and you can see light shining in, through and out of it. I don't want to examine the container any longer, nor do I want to change it's color or placement. Perhaps it will move on it's own in some time and change in it's own way without my meddling. I no longer want to tip it upside down and see what comes out, nor do I want to throw it against a wall and obliterate it completely. No, I want to cherish it with all of my heart, soul and mind. I want to take great care of it and treat it with integrity, sincerity and tenderness. For the container is what gives me life and I must not take it for granted or think that I could create anymore of it then I've already been given. 

Symphony of Simplicity 

Cooking

Reading

Hiking

Running

Swimming in the Ocean

Singing

Dancing

Creating and Playing Music

Boyfriend(friend)

Friends

Mothers

Fathers

Sisters

Brothers

Daughters

Teachers

Driving

Shopping

Cleaning

Writing

Kissing

Hugging

Petting

Cuddling

Holding

Typing

Listening

Talking

Nothing

Everything

Everyone

Night

Day 

Morning

Evening

Afternoon

Breakfast

Lunch

Dinner

Snack(s)

Art

God 

Hallelujah ! 

Amen ! 

Our God is Mighty, He is Great

For His Creation is One and One is All 

 The peace that is brought forthright is a saving grace beyond all measure. Unexpected yet needed and wanted in all those times of not knowing where it had been hiding. A moment of forgetfulness yet at the same time remembrance of what once was, has been and will always be just lying under the surface waiting patiently to be enveloped in. A lifting of the heaviness of our minds and rationalizing, of figuring out and categorizing. I remember being a kid and taking a bath in a brownish bathtub with Pocahontas in the water with me. I admired her body markings, her long black hair, and dark skin in my little 5 year old mind. We moved into another house and I remember taking baths in a pink bathtub with the paint chipping all around above me. I would turn the shapes into things that resembled something I know just as we do with clouds in the sky. I remember washing my hair and then swishing it around in the water to rinse while discovering how it felt. Silky smooth and weightless. The other night, Winslow got to feel that exact same feeling. Finally, she has begun to trust and allow herself to try something new. We moved from rinsing her hair with a cup to now having her lie down in the bath while I hold her head and run my fingers through her hair to rinse. I told her, "Your hair is silky smooth like pink ribbons" Her face lit up as she felt her hair swish all around her. She asks for me to take a picture and I do. She asks to see and says, "Wow, my hair is like silk ! My face is cute." In those moments, time did not matter. We were in time and we were living. I wasn't thinking about living, I wasn't wondering about living, I wasn't tired of living or desperate to live, we were just alive. Later, she gets dressed and starts to brush her own hair and says to me, "Mommy, my hair is as soft as a feather. Here, brush it and see." my heart then bursts with gratitude, of awe and reverence as I brush straight through her hair. Because, for so many nights before this, taking baths and brushing hair has always turned into pain and fear somehow. Whether it be from her fear of soap getting her eyes or the tangles in her hair to cry out in pain. This, that night, those moments, were sacred. And to think that all we needed was to start using bigger blobs of conditioner ! A game changer, life-saver spark of inspiration was all I needed and i will continue to have a mind opened wide enough to hear and partake with. 

The glow of a full Moon on the glass jar atop the patio brick wall

All of us wearing masks, personalized, free or given to 

A deep hurt inside witnessing your young sister lie in her bed day after day watching T.V.

The deepening of a friendship where we begin opening drawers, using the microwave and feeding each other inside both of our own homes.

The deepening of a relationship that uncovers new layers and colors with each union and shared thought

Being outside at just the right time to say Hi to your upstairs neighbor Toni whose voice is unlike any other

I am beyond tired in regards to trying to figure out every little thing about my life. I am done with that. Really ! I have spent so many hours thinking about thoughts that have no other purpose other than to know. Something concrete and something that will last through time. But none of it does except for the feeling. The feeling of One. I try to control change, I try to stand my ground and rationalize my situation and make sure that I am in line with what I think to know is right. But none of it ever proves to be true especially when I begin to ignore my heart's callings. My heart's screaming and shouting at me. I muffle it down with intellect and more information. I logically explain away what it's feeling and I close it shut for good because it makes everything too messy and it is hard to accept it's never-ending truths. I want to hear those truths. I want to feel them and let them pump freely to the outward and extending branches of my life. I want to breath in real life. Not read life or preconceived life. I want to grasp the beat of it all. That is hard to do when my mind likes to override and over analyze every single part of my existence until it is a big pile of broken glass and there is no reflection to be seen, just bits and pieces of what used to be. 

Today was a pleasant day. Winslow was in a good mood most of the day. I spent the majority of my morning distracted thinking about how the weekend went with Greg. All that was said, all that was done. I researched information about 'difficult' temperaments in children and realized that yes, Winslow has a difficult temperament indeed. Not as intense as some but nevertheless she falls within the 10-15% of those born with the same temperament. I found a list of the best 8 books on children with this temperament. I was feeling grateful for Greg's presence in my life because he has opened my eyes to the different cycles that I have fallen into that have proven to be ineffective in terms of preventing power struggles and melt-downs with Winslow. I felt some more acceptance with Winslow and realized that she is how she was born and I have to do my best to nurture and direct her in the way she needs to be raised. It has taken me awhile to accept it but today was a turning point because I also realized that I have been grieving the loss and also the non-existence of the child that I was expecting to have. I cried while listening to the audio book, "Setting Limits for Your Strong-Willed Child." I thought that perhaps Greg hadn't really realized the reality of my situation and of Winslow's temperament and the fact that this will be a life-long struggle with her. He might think that she will just grow out of these difficult behaviors but I know that they will persist and if I am just now coming to acceptance to this, how long will it take for him and what if he doesn't? It is easy for him to be able to say goodbye. She isn't his. I envy that. I want his simple life. I envy what he's able to do which is whatever he wants to do during the week. He doesn't have to carry this burden and I don't want to either but I don't have a choice. I have to learn to live this way. I am hoping acceptance is the first step towards some type of peace within all of this. I have to stop idolizing the perfect life that will lead me to everlasting peace. It isn't real anyways nor could it ever compare to what has already been given to me. We went and checked out a different school, it felt comfortable and nice. The other school that we visited was a Christian preschool and while it look wonderful, the feeling was a little off. I felt unsure about the husband who led the bible study each hour every morning. He looked at Winslow oddly and I didn't like it. Nor, did I like the judgmental remarks the woman made about 'other' kids who haven't been taught the 'Word'. I have to start paying attention to my doubts and the things that I think twice about. They are valid and are telling me something that I may be blind to. I didn't feel any doubts walking away from the 'Busy Bees' preschool, all I could think of was where are my checks so I can pay for the registration fee ? I want to stand firm in my intuition and walk in faith in that regards. I have so much experience living this way, I don't know why I ever let the World convince me otherwise. 

I cleaned the house and it was clean, no toys on the floor or the table. I vacuumed all the crumbs and miscellaneous pieces of paper and cut toys that Winslow has trailed along the floor as the week has passed. Just the other night, I sat here at this same table feeling grateful for our mess that piled onto the table but the feeling has since passed and now I want everything to be neat and clutter-free. Why? Maybe because I have too many thoughts and if I am not surrounded by too many things then perhaps my mind can not be cluttered with too many thoughts. I can feel my blood vessels tighten as I see Winslow strewing her toys everywhere again and create little homes and beds out of stacks of playing cards and scraps of cloth for blankets. I think for a moment, would I trade a clean home made of silence and an average mess for what I have now which is a constant ever-evolving mess with ups and downs of emotions, one moment anger, the other immense pain from hitting herself on the cupboard door. I think yes, I would like to live in that place of silence. With the ability to be immersed in my mind and embark on whatever I wanted to do at the moment but I don't have that anymore. So, after that thought, I erased the longing out of my heart. Instead I longed for acceptance and peace with my circumstance. I heard once that peace isn't the feeling of anything absent but more so the presence of something. I want to know that something and rest in that place. I want my eyes to be open to the life that has been given to me. Appreciate and cherish the moments of now with my daughter. She isn't perfect in any way but she is perfect in her blemishes, mishaps, and growing pains. She isn't what I wanted in any way nor am I the Mother that I want to be on most days. I often idolize ideas of perfection and what could or would bring about the best circumstance. I get lost in these idols that keep me chasing after them, relentlessly pulling forward and covering up the mistakes I've made. Full of shame and guilt for feeling the wrong thing or making the wrong move. Where is the love in that ? Where is G-d in that ? Nowhere, really. I am abandoned in those moments. Blind in the wilderness. But with that, I return time and time again to His place. His home that He has made for me. I must look beyond my idols of idealized personas and ways of being. I must see past my carnally imperfect mishaps and humble myself in the awe of G-d and his wondrous Creation. Carry me, I ask of You. Bring me forth in the palm of Your hand so that I may continually receive the abundance that is constantly flowing all around me. This is only possible with You. Carry me and keep my eyes open and heart softened to the degrees of living momentously graceful. 

My baby girl fell asleep on her own tonight. I went to take a shower while she finished eating cereal for dinner and came out to her asleep in her own bed. No need for a rub on the back, a kiss goodnight, a hug, a book, piano lullabies or even blankets tucked in to sleep tight. She even got her own glass from the cupboard and poured herself some water. A rare moment I will cherish yet question. The question must cease to be all that keeps consuming me. I realized tonight while in the shower how many moments I have spent thinking about pimples on my face, or my physical appearance in general. How many moments I have spent staring at myself in the mirror, picking at these pimples until they bleed. Worrying incessantly. How many of those moments I'd like to trade to instead be present with someone or something beyond vanity. I better shape up, really. Get a good grip on what's good rather than be down in the dark, searching for the way out. I better be real good and hip to what's around me because I'll lose it all if I keep up this worrying. I have to let it go. This burden of shadows following me. I have to set them free with something that reaches beyond me. Far beyond my pimple picking and twisted thinking. Perhaps the possibilities could be something other than dreadful and loathing but when that has been all you've come to know, the climb out is steep and I slip. I can't slip anymore though. I decided. This life is too wondrous to slip and cry out in fear each time I reach a new height. I have to keep climbing, to the peak, the top of the mountain. There is more to be seen than false truths and abandoned feelings. There is life brimming with good, I just have to believe. 

Those that I love

Libraries

the homeless

the displaced 

the abandoned and forgotten

cold water in a glass with lemon that hits the back of my mouth

children's tiny voices asking questions and also, exclamations 

the high pitch sound of a cry that comes from deep within the chest because someone took your ball

the clutter of toys, books, and paper that builds effortlessly onto the table that is made for dining

everything that I have pushed away yet continues to remain despite all the changes that were made

the smell of brown paper lunch bags and how closely they relate to trees and golden grass growing in the Summer heat

And if G-d were in my mind, He'd tell me do it right or not at all

or He'd tell me to swing it this way or that or some other way flat- either way would be fine, He wouldn't mind at all

As long as I trusted in the goodness of it- all

how can I transcend this barrier that sometimes keeps me from feeling the breeze when it flows past my lover's smile to me

the same barrier that makes me question his love for me

forever, effortlessly

I ask daily

I sometimes become trapped in fear, holding onto past nightmares that were once a reality but now just a toiled memory 

my body holds these things, tightly- mostly in my hips and jaw 

I loosen from them each day a little more; a choice to surrender to the love He shows before me. 

A wondrous creation that I could never re-enact but one that I could only participate in and perhaps lend a hand in- a joint communion 

I loosen with each laugh, 

each act of service- outside of me 

I cannot forget these things that have shaped me, like how a river shapes it's stones that rest beside and beneath 

regardless, the water keeps -rushing- pulling through the forest rapidly with momentous efficacy

while the Earth's stones take on their shape, usually in the form of a perfect seat to cool off in 

All these things, they are all still with me and they will always be; the toiled memories

just as the water will keep rushing while the rocks are smoothed to sand 

despite these materials that lay before me and in me, I must remember that there is something more hiding beneath 

There is more to the stone, just as there is more to me than my flesh and bone 

A force that keeps my heart beating and my eyes blinking, effortlessly 

involuntarily keeping me living beyond what I have seen and more importantly beyond what I have been thinking. 
I am grateful for Him

the King of Creation 

or however you'd like to address that which is unknown yet already known beyond understanding