Morning Commute

Take

your hand

off the door

and take a step

with me.

 

Flex

your eyebrow

while your side eye

grants me a grin–

did I say it

again?

 

“I like you,”

and all those messy thoughts aside,

“I know you,”

or at least I want to.

 

My steps feel lighter

now that you’re part of the story

rolling through my head–

or is this my stop at Penn?

 

Don’t want to miss my train again…

M-New-York-Subway-Paul-L-via-Flickr.jpg

January 28, 2016

The Story

It’s what we write every day and, whether we are fully aware of it or not, it’s the grandest story of all:

The Story of My Life.

From the news and social media, to conversations at work and on the street, stories make up the “stuff” of our lives.  I truly believe that we are more than all of this “stuff.”  When you take it all away, there is only the simplicity of life churning away through our veins and souls, connecting us all to the universe.

And yet we still live here, on Earth.  We are always in the midst of other people and countless narratives.  We can’t just run from them.   The world will keep turning.  Even if we close off all our senses, the stories that make up society aren’t going to go away.  Yes, we can shape our personal narrative by stating: “My life is more important than my life story.” And you’d be right!  I am solidly in that camp.  But we are still responsible for our stories.

What do you tell yourself, about yourself, every day?  How do you view your relationship with others, with yourself?  Where does your self confidence fall based on these guidelines?

If I have a problem, I like to think about it in broad terms, considering the evidence of one truth versus another.  By doing so, however, I put a lot of pressure on myself (and my brain) to get it right.  As if I have all the answers!  It’s insane, and yet this pressure follows me day to day, allowing myself to identity with both intelligence and inability.  So when I ask myself the question, “Am I capable of changing how I tell my life story?” I doubt myself.

Do you have any doubts about yourself, about your abilities– about your story?

A wise friend of mine told me today that fresh starts are precious: not everyone can have them, and you can do whatever you want with them.

They symbolize ultimate freedom.

Today, as I find myself in the beginnings of another “fresh start,” I’m taking a stand.  I want to claim responsibility for telling my life story–  to the world, to others, and (most importantly) to myself.

In more ways than not, I am whatever I want to be.  I am whatever I believe myself to be.  There’s no pressure to know everything or for everything to be perfect.   But I’m the main character in this play, as well as the audience.  All I can do is balance the tragedy with the comedy and know that, in the end, my “life” under my “life situation,” my “life story,” will always be there.

***

So, hey you!  You’re a person with a story.  Go out there and write a good one.

Loss

I’ve been thinking about loss, lately.

 

How forcibly it comes and takes away–

so difficult it is to let go.

 

People are my backbone

and thoughts of being uncomfortable around them

simply verifies this fact.

 

Yet I know my life,

life,

is full

and there are no “buts.”

 

I will let go;

I’ve already started.

 

August 21, 2015

Fruit

Cut open a pomegranate.

 

You see the red, fleshy,

skin-tight surface?

It’s like a community,

appearance to the masses–

even to the outsider within.

 

Now, cut inside

the dark, pink center–

see the juice run out?

It is the outcome of communication,

tied over from months of ripening,

passing time ripped open

with the slice of a knife

 

And then, of course,

there are the seeds.

They made this fruit, didn’t they?

 

Like each individual member

of a group domain fighting

for the leading role, a new

plant to form

yet once the first is turned over,

honey, there is no differentiating

between those seeds– in, out.

 

There is only room for flesh and blood.

 

June 4, 2014