My life

Today, I had a strange feeling all day, just thinking about life and how it is but a vapor. This poem is a pouring out of that reflection about place, purpose, and the brevity of life:

My life is but a planting
in a garden I must leave.
What of me will stay behind
I cannot perceive.
I sit in heather hollows
and in the dark womb
of the Earth.

A nagging question haunts me-

What of me has worth?

What of me will bloom someday?

In my garden, I can't stay...

I scatter in the wind's
lonely howl and longing;
The strange yearning cry
echoes with belonging.
I rattle in the leaves above-
a music of sweet sorrow;
Someday the leaves will drop
It may be tomorrow.
tangled in the berry brambles
and shy mountain flowers,
the sun slowly sinks;
I've few blooming hours.
I stand alone - one tree -
in the space of sun and moon.
my roots sink deep and cling,
Night comes much too soon.
though pin-holes of hope
pierce the inky sky...

I stand alone,
Alone,
waiting to fly.

I am a fragmented soul
fragmented by dreams
I am unknown shape
Always becoming, it seems.
Yet I am this much of me, and no more.
I confess-
Sometimes my garden feels like a mess.
I peel away from myself,
down to my core.
Like petals uncurling,
There is the promise of more.
My life is but a planting
of my dreams, and me.
What grows is something-
This is what I see.
-Melissa Ulrich

Letting Go

I found you in the sand,

so perfect, smooth, and pink.

You tumbled in the salty sea - 
I'm so glad you came to me...

But you must soothe another soul,

So from my palm, I let you go. 

I found you in the green,

An amber, glowing thing. 

With veins of life and roots so deep,

Your strength alone is yours to keep.

In this world your color shines - 

You were never to be mine.

I found you by my door

Your softness white and shy

Grateful for this tenderness,

I felt someone else should be blessed.

I kissed you once and let you fly

high into the wild of life,

free to sing your whole song.

We slowly find where, and to whom, we belong.

Anew

These three poems came out during my break at work. I love it when that magic happens...the words just show up and teach me something.

1.

I bottled myself and buried myself
beneath a dark, oak tree.
The roots sunk through
and cracked the glass
and now I grow anew.
High I climb, in sap and green.
A girl in a tree
is a Sight Unseen.

2.

Down, down, down
my heart drops
my hearts stops
I cry.
Unbound by the rhythm of you
It must learn to beat anew.

3.

From the waves to shore-
Forevermore-
My heart is lost at sea.
Somewhere in there,
the covered depths
Have swept my soul from me.

The curling tide
Beckons and cries
to help me breathe anew.
No map ashore,
No, nevermore.
I am scattered in the blue.

I see the light
The sparkle above.
A trail of pearly tears.
The treasured map
of all myself
And salty, savored years.


So, after these poems came out, I was struck by the word "anew" and how it kept showing up. I know our lives are constantly in the process of transformation, as our hearts and minds are ever growing more into who we are supposed to be. When I was young, I spent most of my time hidden in my favorite tree. The middle out of five kids, I was the most shy and I loved that quiet time where I could think my own thoughts and be my own person in my own realm. I found nourishment in the green, even though I had "bottled" myself away. My years spent being adventurous traveling the world and living abroad was how I broke my own bottle, wanting to share myself and who I was, though I still feel much like a lone wolf in not feeling like I belong anywhere...even to this day. I wonder if that is the fate of most writers and artists - we see the world so deeply that there is almost a lens that separates us from truly being part of it.

The second poem is mostly the feeling of acceptance that I might never find my person to share life with. For a long time, I wondered if there was something wrong with me, like maybe I was never enough for someone to want to be with or to love. But that type of energy or thinking does not do my heart good, and until I can believe and accept I am worth loving, even with my eccentricities, then it is never going to happen. The first love must come from myself to myself. The music of myself I long to share with another person, but first my own rhythm must be strong enough.

The last poem is a very personal one. I've found my freedom and belonging out on the ocean, but I haven't felt the same out on the ocean in a long time. It is strange to feel like I've lost something of myself, or that part of me is lost in the depths. It is hard to describe, but I know that life is always flowing, like water. My heart has been through a lot in the past two years, and it longs to feel the way it used to feel. I will think about this some more, and maybe it will become a painting.

Letting Go

There was a blank piece of paper. I started writing and this poem showed up. I've been trying to express the feeling of life, what it is, our dreams, hopes, and the tangle of reality, and making the most of each day:

"Letting go of heartbreak
is truly letting go
of what I hoped life would be
and loving what is so.
Life and expectation
is a funny, painful thing.
The more you try to shape it,
the more it starts to sing...
its own melody, with words you do not know.
You only learn the words to life as
you let your heart let go.
Let life teach you your song
And revel in the learning."

Emotions and drawings

I have a whole sketchbook filled with drawings for children's books....most of the stories revolve around the idea of "sharing" with others or caring for others. This year, I want to see what I can do with this work....I'm really open to whatever happens. :-)

Each Day

When on songs of heart, I lift and rise
With cries in space, I try to fly
Above the void where shadows wait
To pull my spirit down. 

The day beyond today is new
I know that hope alone will do
The heart may drop some days in sorrow
But it will fly again tomorrow.

How paddling changed my life

Looking back on my life, I was very quiet and introspective. Although I wasn't outwardly expressive, it was all deeply internal and came out in my art and writing. I never felt that brave or that strong, and I never felt like I belonged anywhere. I grew up on a farm in Missouri, and I spent my childhood exploring the woods and the pastures and the little creeks around our house, writing stories, drawing, daydreaming, sitting in trees reading books, and snuggling the animals on the farm. I had two favorite places, and both allowed me to be in the midst of life, but not visible: the hayloft in the barn and the treehouse on the wide, rolling lawn facing the pond. Nestled in the arms of the branches, all around me millions of shades of green, my place in the tree was perfect peace.

When we sold the farm and moved to California right after I graduated from high school, I knew I had to keep moving forward. I opened myself to new adventures and did everything that was just scary enough to grow my courage muscles: I joined a swim team my first year in college and later won the California Female Pepsi Scholar Athlete of the Year Award (which only one female junior college athlete can win in California). I then finished my last two years of college at UCLA. I loved the literature courses of my major and graduated with highest honors. The world seemed to open up wider and wider: I studied abroad in Ireland, explored Scotland, England, and Wales, moved to Taiwan and taught English to children for one year, and later moved to Australia for graduate school for two years. Throughout all of this change, I was still searching for where I belonged. Deep down, I longed for a place that was home.

After all of that traveling and school, I ended up in Monterey in 2013. I had my dream job writing and editing educational materials for National Geographic Learning. I spent each Saturday walking along the Rec Trail by the ocean to the library to get my books for the week. One day, I saw it - a beautiful, white canoe gliding out to sea. I immediately felt drawn to it. It was calling to my soul. I went to the next recreational paddle, and I knew that I finally found the sport that thrilled me and woke up parts of me I never knew I had. I joined the Ke Kai O'Uhane Outrigger Canoeing Club and went to every practice and race. Uncle Les taught me how to paddle as one, and how to trust myself and how to trust others; this vulnerability was a good lesson to learn. Coach Dale taught me how to paddle OC1 and encouraged me to keep being brave. Because of that support and training, I won the 2015 OC1 NorCal Sprint Championship. Those first two years as a novice paddler was a magical time of growth for me and it has shaped how I have approached other challenges in my life. 

Canoeing helped me bloom in ways I never imagined. I found my voice, my courage, my passion, and my strength out on the water. The same feeling I had as a kid, sitting in the tree while watching storm clouds pile up, running as fast as I could down pasture hills in the warm, spring rain, and watching life from the warmth of the barn -- that same peace of belonging and peace of my true nature -- I finally found again when I would paddle out on the ocean, sit on my SUP or watercraft, and just be. There is a strange wildness in my heart that paddling on the ocean has brought out, or maybe that wildness and savage courage was always there, and was just too shy to come forth. I feel my Viking ancestors in my blood when I paddle down steep waves, chase the horizon, and feel the push and pull of the wind, tangling my hair into knots even as it untangles the knots in my soul.

The anchor that has kept me in Monterey the past five years, throughout various jobs and living situations, has been the ocean and the Ohana I found because of the ocean. Being able to go out on the ocean has been such a blessing. This Ohana is true family and true belonging. Being out on the water is my home. This is how canoeing has changed my life. 

The one thing that is always there is the ocean, and this sport draws in people of depth, generosity, and passion. It takes a strong heart to paddle on the ocean.

Turning 34

The child in my arms I longed for...

The man in my arms I hoped for...

The things I thought would be part of my life are not reality.

Turning 34...

Moving forward, into this future of haze, I wonder...

Who I am, where I belong, what can I offer the world?

It is always the same answer....kindness, love, compassion.

The dreams I have...are dreams.

The purpose I have is to love in any way I can -
The rest is just to live.

Faith is the victory that overcomes the world,

Despite any heartbreak or broken dream. 

Life Changes

It has been an interesting three days, but I know things will work out. On Tuesday, I got a 60 day notice to vacate my apartment because the owner is selling the home, and yesterday, I lost my job at the insurance company because they said I wasn't cut out for insurance. They said it was in no way a reflection on me or my work ethic and they said they all loved me as a person, but my boss said that I was too creative to work there and that I should be working with kids. They said they would give me a great reference though and that they would keep their ears open for other jobs. I really did my best in insurance, but I guess some things aren't good fits, and it can be a blessing in disguise. 

For the GOOD NEWS, I did get a part-time job at the bookstore in Pacific Grove which I start tomorrow, and I might get that other part-time Pacific Grove Library job, too (I will hear on Monday about that one, but the lady said the paperwork was going smoothly). Then when I was at the gas station, I had this urge to buy a scratchers ticket (which I never do) and I won $100! I told the gas station attendant that it was a blessing, because I lost my job; we started talking and I told him that I have my M.A. in Editing and Publishing and then he said, "this is perfect! I need an editor! Will you be my book manager? I have 75,000 handwritten words need to be typed up and edited." So, it is just interesting how I'm being shuffled into the book realm again. I just have to be flexible and open for whatever happens, and to keep my chin up.

Finished!!

Today I finished the 30 day hot yoga challenge. It was the hardest physical challenge I have done so far, but I can feel the flicker of my pep and silly self coming back after a long winter of change. This challenge helped me get my mental focus back. There were days when my body was very tired, but the routine of going and the support of friends helped. On the tough days, I would have to be present in the moment, instead of thinking about how would I get through the class or how many things I had to do in my life. I take things to the extreme and have always been very hard on myself (perfectionist). Letting go of that pressure and doing something because I enjoy doing it is a lesson I can definitely apply to my whole life. I had a very dear friend tell me that I avoid things that make me feel negative emotions, but the negative emotions I feel are from my own insanely unrealistic expectations for myself. So...it is definitely a mindset I want to shift, so here are three things I want to do whenever I feel myself going to the extreme or being too "all or nothing" perfectionistic, I will

1. be present...mindful
2. be gentle with myself...
3. be grateful, especially in being perfectly imperfect

Other lessons I learned:

1. The pose I used to dread became my favorite - Camel Pose
2. I am more flexible than I thought
3. I can sweat a LOT (when I trained for the marathon, I never sweat this much!)
4. I can look in the mirror at my body and be grateful for what it can do
5. Crying is ok (after one class, I cried in the final savasana - I was incredibly stressed in my life and the physical and mental focus of the class helped me release and let down my guard which is very hard for me to do)

Time

On the edge of time...one second, then the next...

From then, before, and what once was,

To now, and forever what will be.

Time can be divided more so by moments, memories, and feelings.

This divided time - a gasp and hungry ache - 

Can sometimes be stretched;

moments, like currents or low-weaving music, hums through our lives without ever leaving us.

A ghost and a promise.

I live in longing for what was and yet could be,

A maddening balance of nostalgia and hope.

Challenge

I am over halfway finished with a 30 Day Hot Yoga challenge that I first started to gain my mental strength and focus back after changing careers. It has ended up being an unexpected healing from the inside out. 

In a 105 degree room, following 26 postures, I started peeling off old feelings, thoughts, and emotions while stretching and balancing my body. Each day, my heart is more grounded and my inner well of peace is filling up again. I've never felt comfortable in my body, but I am grateful for the new strength I am discovering (Standing Bow Pose, I'm loving you). It has been difficult since the Redding fire in July and the stress of evacuating my parents and nieces, but the past four months especially have been a tumultuous time with changing careers, figuring out if I was meant to stay in Monterey, and wondering about my place in the world as a 33 year old single woman. This winter was my season of dark soil--would anything ever bloom? 

I am looking forward to finishing this challenge, and continuing hot yoga while getting back into outrigger canoeing again. My back and neck injury I got in September doesn't give me pain any more (finally!). When you can't do the things that make you feel like you, it is destabilizing. But the time away from my favorite sport allowed me to focus on painting, composing, and writing. 

It is easier to look back and see the purpose of different seasons; in the moments of weakness and waiting, it is hard to be patient and peaceful. 

It seems like life is like an ocean tide....receive and release and be.