Enough

 

You matter.

You are enough.

The grit and sorrow of life
Does not take your shine,
Or make you less worthy
Of the same light you show others.

Whatever voices that tell you
You are not enough
To be loved,
To be treated with dignity -
Show those voices
The power of love
And acceptance -
A song you write in your soul
And sing with your life.

(words by me, after reflection on a yellow sky and my heart)

Bone Days

 
Sometimes I feel like I'm just my frame of bones,
My muscles, sinew, skin all fled
Inside I rattle, upheld.

If feeling's a sound, I knock together

in a rhythm that calls out:

Where are you heart?

Where are you skin?

Where are you strength?

I'm just a frame sometimes.

Then I wake up the next day,

And find everything where it is supposed to be

All together.

I'm not sure why these bone days happen.

They used to scare me.

But maybe they are supposed to happen,

so I can remember that even in loneliness

I can make music. 

The percussion of myself

is just laying frame,

before the melody can land again. 

Gold showing

Bits of gold showing through,
Heart abloom,
Life anew

Meeting

Nearby, a white Egret, seemingly weightless, on the seaweed. On my back in the water, floating and embraced, the fog low and the smooth ocean meeting, I felt the infinite.

An old memory

I just fell in love with Taylor Swift's "Hoax" on her new album. It totally reminded me of someone I lost. Heartbreak is never easy to navigate; like being lost in a storm with no compass. There are things in life you can't fence up, wall in, or cut out of the soul. You just have to learn to live with the longing and the absence of someone or something you hoped for. It isn't a death, but in some ways it is. That ghost of yourself is left behind as you step out in a new, raw skin, pink and delicate and vulnerable to the realities of life.

I wrote this shortly after the loss and it is amazing to me how we can feel so deeply to our depths and still find a way to keep going.

The keening of the wind
was not the wind, but me
Though my lips are closed
My soul, in anguished silence, cries

Holding sand + feeling sun

Nestled in the warm sand at Asilomar, my fingers trace designs in the sand as the layers of blue, white, gray above melt and dance with the sun. I say a prayer. I am open to abundance. With arms open wide, my whole self I embrace. With grace and dignity, I face each moment for what it is. In letting go, I surrender to a trust, in knowing the best for me isn't what I grasp for, like sand running through a clenched fist. What is best for me comes with light, joy, and freedom - the sun between the clouds, warming my open palms. Infinite tenderness wraps around my shoulders. I'm not alone and in this belonging, I'm always home.

Dingle + Anam Cara

I had a dream last night, unlike any other I’ve had. I believe it is a healing dream. There are a handful of dreams I know will stay with me always, and this is one of them.

In my dream, I walked away from something I had been longing for because I knew that it was not what would make me whole. I was faced with accepting it and losing part of myself, or leaving it and trusting the abundance of blessing that was yet unknown to me. I said “no” to what would make me less whole and walked away from it. Suddenly, I was walking down a cobblestone road, with tall, old buildings on either side. An old woman came out of a shop and looked at me with eyes that saw me. She gave me a piece of paper and a pen and said, “where would you say people should go that is best for them?” She turned around and hunched her shoulder so that I could have a place to write. I wrote a word in cursive on the paper (more on that below). Then, when she turned back around, I was filled with incredibly love and gratefulness to her. I had no words to say. There was nothing good enough to hold the feeling of gratefulness. I held out my hand, and grasped hers and said thank you without speaking. She drew me into a hug, and while I was hugging her, she pressed both her hands deeply into the spine between my shoulder blades. It was like trigger point therapy and something suddenly released inside me. My entire heart and core was vibrating and it felt like my soul was soaring through time and space, hot and cold at the same time, and glowing. I wasn't sure if my body could contain this feeling, and wondered if I might fly apart. Then the old woman said to me gently, “this is where your soul starts.” Then I woke up.

I think this old shop woman was part of me. 

Also, the word that I wrote down on the paper in cursive was “Dingle”. When I was 18, I studied abroad in Ireland. I was in heaven, learning Irish History, Literature, and Folklore, and spending every spare minute walking/hiking or traveling to all the forests I could. While there, I traveled to Dingle, Ireland, which is a very magical place. I remember standing on the beach in Dingle, and the color of the sea such a light, icy blue, with the pulsating green hills around me. My bare feet were nestled in the pebbly sand as the waves licked up. I felt grounded and also like I had always been there. In one moment, I felt incredibly small in the vastness of eternity and everything, and at the same time, incredibly connected to everything and everyone. I’ve since learned that Dingle is a “thin space”, or a place of energy, where the veil between this world and the eternal world is thin. The dream also made me think of the old Gaelic word “Anam Cara”, which means “soul friend”. There are people you meet in life who accompany you on the deep soul journey as you encounter your destiny and become closer with God. Sometimes in life, you meet people and when you make eye contact it’s like something claps you in your soul and you are filled with the sense of immense recognition and being truly seen, all the way to your depths, and your heart cries out, “THERE you are!!” Maybe these people are cut from the same heart cloth, I don’t know, but it is a rare and special gift.

Ocean morning dip

I am resistant to discomfort, yet willing to submit my senses to this; with the silky slip of belonging, I'm filled to the brim with joy. In this moment, submerged in the ocean, the feel of the water and the buoyancy and release slows the pendulum inside me to a new, gentle rhythm. It's a wonderful morning.

Cleaning and scrap paper poems rediscovered

I cleaned house today and found some old poems I wrote on scrap paper. It's interesting to find discarded poems. I remember writing them and feeling frustrated with them; sometimes words can't hold our feelings and are just scratches on a vast plain of our hearts, and there seems to be no release. However, I'm going to let the poems live in the world, as they decided to show up to me again. Maybe they will help someone navigating a similar pain:

**

The storm would come and it must and it did, drowning out the tired song until the haunting stopped.

**

It sits with me, this memory;
The moment of what if
is now aglow
in paintings wild, and faulting words.
The sharpness of the moment
Erodes my present form.
Maybe someday the edges of loss won't cut
my heart as I look back.

**

My shadow sits beside me,
and mirrors life I lead each day.
My shadow, longer growing--
Growing dark where dreams decay
My soul, light, in life's rich soil.
Shadows stretch out, choke, and spoil.
I think of beauty, hope, and sun,
Softly blooming still...I'm not done.

**

I thought I'd sail to wild north
with snowy peaks and ice blue seas;
I'd build my nest in barren trees.
But winds pushed me on to foggy skies,
Dark green moss and soulful ties.
I land on coast and daring sea
The clouds above wander free.

Dreams

For about a year, I have been having a recurring dream where I'm in my bed and a dark force/shape is in my room. In my dream, I am too scared to look at it, but I plead for it to go away and it ends up killing me.

Last night, it was different. In my dream, I was in my bed sleeping, but I was also watching myself from above. The dark shape was in my room, with an evil aura. I sat up in bed, and I stared directly at it, and I ordered it to go away. The dark shape squeezed my throat and took away my voice, but I kept thinking in my head "go away, I'm not afraid!" and then the dream ended. When I woke up, my throat was so sore as if I'd been screaming all night. I do not think this dream will oppress me anymore.

Take a breath and wait 5 minutes...

"Take a breath and wait 5 more minutes."

That's how I've gotten through many things in my life that seemed impossible. The morning I was supposed to take my flight to start classes at UCLA, I was so scared of failure and living in a big city (a huge change for a Missouri farm girl) that I was going to tell my dad that I didn't want to go. My suitcase was by the front door and I told myself, "just wait 5 minutes and then tell him you don't want to go." I kept telling myself that until I got on the plane. Ultimately, going to UCLA was an amazing experience that helped me grow in a lot of ways. I graduated summa cum laude (and I also realized people get annoyed when I introduced myself as "My name is Melissa; I grew up on a farm!"). Haha, to wake up to a bellowing cow...I miss those days.

There are other memories that pop up - moments when I put my feelings aside in order to just keep moving (paddling in scary conditions in a SoCal with no chase boats around, driving my niece out of Redding during the Carr Fire, teaching Honors Chemistry). Sometimes in life, we have to just keep taking those steps to be brave, even when it isn't something that we feel is big. But anytime we stretch our courage muscles, it IS big. We all face fear, challenges, and heartbreak...how we journey through it is a victory.

Heavenly Realm

 
My dear friend took this photo of me this morning during a dawn beach walk. I've been struggling with some things and feeling lost in the fog of depression, loneliness, and like there is difficulty finding anything to look forward to. Then this morning happened, with such beautiful light; it is like a hug and a reminder to keep taking one day at a time, because you never know what morning you may wake up to.

The Knot

A prisoner of the knot, not enough;
How to dissolve this, I don't know,
But I feel myself grow.
I feel myself feel the way to truth -
to find I watered this beast and tethered it to myself;
Bound to the weight,
because it was safer to be held than to be free.
I don't know what I shall be without it.
I will be me.

Pray tell, Well?

I've been writing little poems and painting quick watercolors to go with them. Here's one I did today:

An echo in an empty well
hobbled up the stones
and sang in fading tones
sorrow from my soul.
I gave into that empty space
pieces of my heart,
dropping slowly, part by part -
waiting, hoping, fading.
It's too deep to clearly see
What is looking back at me.
So I turn and look up high
To places I can't see,
And pray the words that I let fly
Will bring an answer back to me.

Between

Today was a gift, and a strange blend of sadness and joy. Today was a day where I felt the divide between memories and now. I sat between where the ocean was vivid blue and steel gray, with clouds edging away from the morning sun. I didn't realize how I was gasping, or how desperate my spirit was, until I felt the swell of the ocean rise under me and thunder forward. It is strange how we can go about our days, almost starving for something we're not sure of, until we figure it out. The swell of joy afterwards is almost painful.

And today, I tried to paint something really silly, but the otter's eyes look crazy, and watercolor is really hard when you are trying to control the colors. I feel like I'm on the edge of figuring something out, but I'm just at the edges trying to feel my way in.

Watercolor shapes

I'm trying to remember how to paint with watercolors. It is fun to see the colors swirl together in unpredictable ways - you really have to give up control and let the paints surprise you. I tried painting a watercolor version of a recent acrylic painting, and I noticed that in this watercolor version, there is a dragon shape facing the ducky. Art usually uncovers something we are not totally aware of and it can be uncomfortable to face. I think this dragon is nice, though.

A painting when I couldn't fall asleep...swirling colors

Forest of dreams

I keep seeing this forest in my dreams, but I can't get the colors right. I am the duck and there is purple light coming out of my heart. Also, sorry for the bad photo quality...I use my flip phone camera. lol!

Unexpected Blessings

Life. What a ride. Some storms come unexpectedly, but they reveal blessings. This week was full of unexpected blessings.


Easter Sunday evening, I fainted and faceplanted on my wooden porch. My neighbor saw it happen and gave me first aid. I didn't break any face bones or my hands or wrists when I fell, and I didn't break my teeth or cheekbone from landing directly on my face. 

I had a horrible headache the next day, so I went to Doctors on Duty and they said I had a minor concussion and wanted to do an MRI.

The MRI showed a cyst in my brain...

The thought crossed my mind that it was a blessing I fainted and hit my head so I could find this out. I never would have gotten a brain MRI otherwise.

I had my appointment with the neurologist. He said the cyst isn't impeding the flow of cerebrospinal fluid, so I don't need surgery (yay!); he said it is the kind of cyst that is benign, so it doesn't have the cells for cancer (double yay!). I was surprised  by how big it is (the size of my whole eyeball right in the middle of my brain!). He said I might have had it since I was a child. I have to get another MRI next year to check the size, or sooner, if I get bad headaches and then reassess if it needs to be drained. If it grows larger and blocks the canals for my cerebrospinal fluid, then I will get something called hydrocephalus which would require drainage through a shunt. 

However, he wants me to contact a cardiologist to see if there is anything wrong with me heart. I fainted a few times when I was a teenager, but not since then.

A symptom of this type of brain cyst is fatigue. I have felt increasingly tired since 2017. I had a gut feeling something was wrong, but I chalked it up to stress. I got to the point where I stopped competitive paddling, stopped swimming, and even walking to the beach was too much after work. It will be interesting to see the MRI next year to see if it grew at all and if there really is a correlation between the cyst and my energy levels.

It was really cool to see the MRI and all the lumpy bumps of my brain. I noticed my right hemisphere is more bumpily at the edges than the left hemisphere (the right side of the brain is more creative, the left side is more logic-based). I will call that one bumpily part my Melissa imagination.

I didn't tell a lot of people, because it seemed less scary that way. However, I am very thankful for the blessings - prayers for healing and courage, rides to appointments since I'm not supposed to drive for a while, broth and yogurt deliveries, and phone calls to give me company. A friend even came over and trimmed my hedge so the sun can shine on my seat on my porch. It has always been very difficult for me to accept help or being taken care of, so it has been a blessing in my heart to show me that I am not alone. My heart is very full with gratitude.

This week was definitely an exercise in faith and it helped me realize how blessed I am and I am so glad it wasn't worse. I am resting in the truth that I am loved. I am very thankful to God for giving me peace and courage this week when I was waiting for answers. I know that He loves me and I will never be alone, no matter the storms that come. I wrote this poem to describe how this has made my faith deeper:



"With all my heart I sought in vain,
A pleasure to relieve my pain.
Hours lost in searching wide,
How to fill the void inside.
What of life has anything
Lasting, peaceful, comforting?
The only truth that I have learned
is love and forgiveness isn't earned.
The price He paid and freely gave
was done with love and so I'm saved."

In the works

These paintings need more detail...but I'm just painting from the ol' imagination...sometimes I feel like that little duck, wandering in the woods of life.

So smelly distancing...when 6 feet isn't enough

Your butt is in my face

I found this old sketch I did a few years ago about dinosaurs trying to be astronauts. It reminded me of my four siblings and I riding in the family suburban growing up. I can still hear it now: "Your butt is in my face!!" Ah, the good old days when I actually longed for social distancing...

My Patch of Sunlight

Some days, I feel like someone should send me a volleyball so I can have my own Wilson to talk to. Other days, I sit in the patch of sunlight on my top step, read a book, and enjoy the warmth of the sun on my skin and the wind that rustles the page. Everything in me feels hyper sensitive to everything right now, the good and the bad. We have to learn how to weather the bad in the right way so it doesn't destroy us. Enjoying a small patch of sunshine on the top step is a start for me. Every day will have a new start. I know, someday, I'll run through a sunlit forest, I'll make sand angels on the beach, and I'll sit on a rock in the middle of my favorite river with the curling clouds above me. These are the things I think about when my patch of sunlight is my world

Dog

I wanted to tell you a story about the dog that lives on my street. He is a huge, lanky, black German Shepherd named Ziggy. He is almost two and runs like a Gumby dog with no bones in his legs. He has huge ears and his tongue lolls out of his mouth whenever he runs towards me. I honestly think his wagging tail propels him forwards, otherwise he’d move like a grocery cart with wheels going off in different directions. Yesterday, I went on a quick walk around my block, and Ziggy saw me. He often hangs out in the yard in front of his home. When he saw me, he started speaking a doggy language that consisted of prolonged howls and chewing barks; I felt like he was gently scolding me and also saying "“I am so happy to see you! My life is complete!” Then he got fixated on a giant fly and trickle of water running down the sidewalk across the street from me. It made my day just to see him. Dogs don’t understand social distancing. I wish I had a dog right now. Anyway, just imagine a giant black German Shepherd that runs with legs all akimbo. It will make you smile.

"Cashew" sounds like a sneeze

Squirrel: "Hey, what kind of nut is that? Looks good!"
Rodney, mouth full: "Caffmewff"
Squirrel: "what?"
Rodney, still chewing: "CaffMEEEWWFFF"
Squirrel: "what?"
Rodney: "CASHEW!!"
*all the squirrels run away from Rodney and his nut stash*

Held Inside

Skies knit together,
Threads unraveling,
Fall to the Earth
as tears.
The thunder of
a breaking heart,
after a silence of years.

Depth

Someone recently read my blog/poetry and told me, "you have surprising depth." I wondered at that, after they told me that I seemed like such a happy, positive person in real life. What is "depth" and what is surprising about it? Everyone has secret heartaches that have ripped them asunder, and their public smiles and courage to navigate the world amidst their pain and grief does not mean they are not "deep"? I am trying to understand this, and why there is this division of what is meaningful and what is not. We all live lives of courage and pain, with love and surrender. All of it is deep. What we share is a gift, and what we keep to ourselves to heal from is our own.

Polly's Pet

"Polly's Pet" was one of my favorite books when I was little, and I remember my grandma reading it to me (this was before I could read). It is amazing how illustrations you see as a child seem so huge and real, like you might slip into them if you look at them long enough. The story is about an unhappy cat. His owner, Polly, dresses him up in baby clothes. He hates it, but he never tells her to stop dressing him up because he knows that it makes her happy. He lets resentment build and build until he finally runs away to go skiing and ice skating and doesn't tell her where he is. However, after a while, he realizes how lonely he feels, even though he gets to do everything he wants to do. One page, I remember, always made me cry as a child (below). The story has a happy ending, but there is a lot of truth to Polly and me and our greatest fears and sorrows; it is strange how stories can reach something in us and speak for something we can't quite say. Even more so that it comes from a children's book.

Ruffins McFluffmaster

I doodled a dog character and wrote a little, silly poem to go with it...I present "Ruffins McFluffmaster":

Ruffins McFluffmaster, ruffs through his fluff,
Though it's rough having fluff fluffing off him
Wherever he goes, and onto dark clothes, where it shows up
as white as the first winter snows.
These are some of his fluffy fluff woes:
His fluff always tickles and sticks to his nose,
and he has tufts of hair between all of his toes.
But wouldn't you know, or even suppose?
Hugging his fluff close will cure all your sadness,
but brushing fluff off clothes will incur sure madness!

*he is making this face, because someone asked him, "why are you so fluffy!?" He doesn't know why.

I found a piece of fatty bacon wrapped in a napkin in my zippered jacket pocket on Monday....

backing up the story....

On Sunday, while beginning a nice walk in the warm, drizzly morning, I saw a beautiful, black wolfish-looking dog lying down in the middle of my one-way street. He wasn't moving, but didn't appear to be injured, and he had no collar or tags. I walked up to him slowly and then circled around him so he knew I was there. He had been eyeing me for a while, still unmoving, so I crouched down about ten feet away from him, held both arms out, and softly said, "hi boy!" I put out as much loving energy as I could. He immediately leapt up, tail wagging furiously, ears flapping like a puppy, tongue lolling as he trotted right into my arms and put his forehead so hard into my chest I almost fell over. He then gave me the ultimate dog body hug before turning around and sitting in my lap while I gave him back scratches. I stayed there petting him for about 5 minutes secretly hoping I could just adopt him, but then the owner came out and started laughing, because apparently "Ziggy" is a lover-boy and does this often in the middle of the street. Since I was on my way to meet a friend for breakfast, I said bye to Ziggy, but he started following me until the owner called him back. I told Ziggy I would bring him back a piece of bacon and I could swear he winked at me. On my way back home, I knocked on the door where Ziggy lives, but nobody answered, so I still have that bacon in my pocket...I guess I should throw it away. Now my jacket kind of smells like bacon; not that I mind....maybe the smell will attract more lovely doggy encounters.