My back

is strong

like a piece of bark

it has its edges

but it is stable,

it stands tall–

it is stillness

and silence

and me.


These elements

of control

have never been

my friend.


Illusive fears

of loosing

a self

that I had forged

by lack of force

the word loss–

I could write odes

to loss

and sonnets

to loss

and haikus

to loss

and I would still



in the same sentiment


Who am I?


Where do these attachments

leave me?

Where did I acquire them?


Did death bring up something

deep inside of me

that always needed healing?


An unknowingness of stability,

the entrance of doubt?


I am here, writing,


thinking back to trees with hearts

written in their sides.


October 8, 2016


“I” and “Us”

We must

put the “simple”

back in



It’s a one-ring circus

where only “I’s” are the conductors

it will never suffice

in a world of 7 billion

of “us.”


How did our fathers land us here?

More like,

“How do we get ourselves out?”

I want to know

that if I were to have a daughter

she will see a river,

touch a lake with two hands;

if a son,

that he will not be afraid of dreaming

of an extra-compassionate-driven,




instead of money give me roses,

I believe the future deserves them.


For it is our story to write,

to be written by a hand

that wrote of global harmony,

welcomed women

taking a stand for what is right,

taking a stand for freedom,

taking a stand

for “us.”

April 10, 2015

i’ve been thinking

i’ve been thinking about what it means

to feel safe, loved

i’ve been thinking about how often I think

that I’m the one in control of the answers

no one can acquire this–

full safety,

full love,

full control–

unless they start backwards

relinquish control, let go of the ammunition

let love fill you to the brim

don’t regret a drop

and that’s when you’ll remember–

you’e been safe all along,

as a child of the universe.

February 12, 2015


Pull back

the ignition

to light the flame

some things you



others you not only can,

you must

be conscience

of your thoughts

for a wise man once told me

“Stay clear of the deer

and hunt the tree instead,

not with an ax but with a log,

sitting under its cool shade,”

I would rather be

a tree

with a whispering wind

reminding me

I cannot change time–

but I can change me.


December 16, 2014


I would like to propose an answer to one of the biggest, if not biggest, questions of all:

What is the meaning of life?

Memoir after memoir, story after story, our Earth turns.  Our lives turn.  Our world turns.  Yet to fully grasp the “why” behind this movement, all one must do is slow down.  The world turns us; we do not turn the Earth.  Albeit, at the core of arguably every problem, is our human condition that refuses to let go of the notion that we, and only we, control our fate.

My life has been run by fear for the last four years.  It is a story like any other, one capable of spiraling into all its messy little details, or raveling up into one, neat package with a bow.  For the sake of my argument, let’s name is X.  Now, in the last four years, I have attended and graduated from college, worked at different companies and organizations, and changed and grown as a person.  Again, I am human– change is part of our landscape.  I have experienced every day ups and down amidst my greatest joys and greatest pains.  I have, simply put, been living my life.

But have I been living it “to the fullest,” as the great thinkers, business men, and mediators of our time insist is our greatest mission?  I believe to many extents, I have.  The only problem is X.  Let’s say I am standing over a solid, made-of-standard-brown-brick well, and I see X clearly but from a distance, floating down below.  Now, let’s say that this image is see-through; it still exists, fully in my point of view, and yet I can see everything happening on the other side of it, around it, as well.  I can see the clear water on the sides of X, the well’s black, concrete bottom below.  I can see sunlight scraping the edges of tiny waves, the air pushing them.  Life in the well is stable and slow and on-going.

However, X never leaves my sight.  It has become a lens through which I see everything else surrounding it–and it originates within myself.  I can try to laugh it off; I can try to battle through it.  I can try to nurse it away with medications and pain killers; I can try to bite at it with my own mental teeth.  Yet it persists in my view.  

What exactly is X, anyway?

X is fear.  X is wanting upmost control.  X is the pressure to be a mind-reader in your own mind.  X is defining yourself as a critic, a fortune teller, a future seer.  X is nothing that a human– in an un-judged, arguably never-more-true reality– actually is.

And yet all of us, in one way or another, have taken the bait and lived our lives in the presence and scrutiny of X.  Of course, it is different for all of us.  Yet they all fall along the same path– a path we must look at with not only open eyes, but open hearts to truly feel our steps as we walk upon it. We all are on a journey to find love, to find peace.  We must learn to let go of X, to not be critics of our lives and others, but peaceful observers, to keep our steps in line.   To reach the place that lives in all of us that wishes to simply “be.”

What is your X?  Once you find it, know that you can beat it.  That by “being” human, you already have.   I believe this fight– or, rather, the letting go of the fight– is the meaning of our individual lives, our collective life as one human race.