Posts Tagged ‘life’

Make up the shape up of a story sad and true,

tell yourself this loving is the reason you are blue.

Give into the river that flows with ease and grace,

and let it all take and turn you like a shadow on your face.

This sunny, salty city has lined up its carpets for you,

and this rhythm deep inside is its song ringing through.

Between beauty and beyond is this place you have long chased,

as you search with such passion, remember life is not a race.







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   Image result for death

       It is common knowledge that death is a topic of discomfort and distress for most people. Often we are expected as adults to not bring up this subject in front of children or at social gatherings, as if the reality of our connected morality is a truth not yet invited to play and ponder at any party. What a strange world we live in where such an undeniable truth is rarely given breath. It is only, if we are lucky enough to have such connections, to be discussed infrequently with close friends and family–mostly acceptable in the days and weeks after the loss of a loved one. But for these conversations to take shape outside of these acceptable environments it is often perceived with unease or spurious subtlety, reactions wide ranging from offense to avoidance. Why is this? Are we simply a product of our youth crazed, beautified, go-forever-society or have we always been like this–stiff armed and shaky with anxiety in the face our own truths? We will all die. This is truth. Why can’t this be okay? Or better yet, why can’t we learn to love it? 

        It has been over a year since my father passed. I often find myself replaying moments of his passing in my mind, images of him smiling and the smell of his scent, the color of his skin as he faded away and the last time we gazed into one another’s eyes. These thoughts flood my heart and break the levee of my emotions nearly every time. Simply put, I cry. And I do it often. It is always in this place that I connect with him most dearly and most deeply. Perhaps I feel it all so strongly because deep down I know this is all I have left of him. Perhaps, in some way it is him. All I know is, it is something.

       After going to this place, I always want to reach out to others, particularly those that knew him best. Not to find comfort for my pain but to connect together as I did by myself in my own tears–to feel the love. This, unfortunately, rarely happens. Instead, I find places and people that are so shaken by the topic and simultaneously the pain from having lost our shared loved one that walls and distances are put in place to help them feel safe. I don’t blame them for this and I don’t judge them either. I know in their own way they are only trying to keep their love for my father safe and to protect themselves from their own pain. This has little to do with conscious choices and more to do with these societal circumstances throughout their lives that have led them to close off in these moments as opposed to leaning in. If they only knew of the abundance that was waiting for them to be met in these moments with open hearted vulnerability they would make another choice. They would lean into their feelings and together, the intimacy present only for a funeral, could be something exercised willfully and often. To clarify, I don’t mean shedding tears and sobbing for those men easily disregarding my words, although perhaps that is what it looks like for some. I mean connecting to your heart and your loving during the topic of death as opposed to clinging to your fears, phobias, and familiarity.

       I imagine Obi-Wan Kenobi reminding me of the power of the force, but instead it is my father telling me to be open. There is a force that surrounds us, that penetrates us, that binds us with the galaxy, it comes from making a choice in the moments to do things differently. To unlearn what we have been taught and what we have seen. To rise above our fears and face the moment with unabashed authenticity. I know this because I have done both since he passed. I have made the choice to do it differently and lean into my feelings. And when I have, I have been rewarded with a connection not to my pain but to the love I have for him. A love that strangely connects me with something universally beyond, something bizarre and beautiful. I have also leaned out and not made the choice in moments where my openness was met with unease or judgement. In these times it was done with unconsciousness and in these times I have felt the depths of my pain and my sadness. I have felt isolated and I have felt alone.

       The past year, I have watched myself wildly change. In some ways I wish my father could see who I am now, in other ways I wish no one did, especially my fiancee who has patiently loved and silently participated in my pain of leaning out as well as the power from leaning in. I have done and said things I couldn’t have expected, I have put myself first in moments where I always went last. I have put others before me in moments I had always put myself first. I hurt and pushed people away, I leaned into and got closer with others. I closed myself off to the world and hid, I opened myself up to the universe and shined. I felt more alive and alone than ever before, more loved and lonely than I ever could have imagined. I laughed. I cried. I loved. And I tried. I tried my best to experience it all and even still, I know there is a lifetime of lessons awaiting me. An endless tapestry of colors yet to be experienced and expressed. And while some of it scares the shit out of me, I know it is all there to help me grow and to become a better human being.

       To accept death, to experience grief, to express your pain with presence is the most powerful way I have seen to live a life more full and more free. It seems like the perfect joke. Paradoxical and laughable, that we would have to remember what it is that we forget. Death is only a door and on the other side is not the unknown but a life worth living. The key is leaning into love in those moments where everything is telling you not to–everything except your own heart. Just listen and you will feel the force.


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The best of you lives on.

In the spirit of the lives you touched

and the lives you created,

in the hearts you opened

and the wounds you helped to heal.

The best of you lives on.

In the smiles I share with the one’s I love,

when I swallow my pride and take a hand up,

and when I forget about myself

and offer a hand down.

The best of you lives on.

In the stories that reveal what mattered most,

in the choices of your life,

now past.

The best of you lives on

and through love,

because above all else that was your chose.


I imagine if heaven is a place,

it is of endless space

and filled with your beliefs.

Beliefs that can only be decided by the way you lived your life.


In this, I know you are surrounded by love.

And one day when I pass away

and the best of me, too, lives on.

I will see you.


But first I have a life on choices.

I will let love guide me.

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In our youth, a truth leads us

but we must first learn to listen

and follow without fear.

In our grief, love comforts us

but we must first be willing let go

and leave our ideas of loss.

In our lives, there is a force that binds us

but we must first break past the shadows

and see that only we create our own darkness.

And then,

so too is it true

that we create our own light.


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You’ve buried me below your dreams,

like a sleeper strangling in the sheets.

You’ve buried me below your dreams,

beseeching for a breath beneath this frozen, frigid lake.

My beckoning to you is silent now,

with movements quite uneven.

But this surface is smooth,

this covering above me,


I wear it as if it were my own skin;

unshakable, and permanently stitched.

A part of my purpose, or perhaps,

my entirety for eternity.

All the more sad it seems.


You’ve buried me below your dreams

my dear,


death will come to us all.

You’ve buried me below your dreams,

and the Summer of our lives

is quietly fading to the onset of Fall.


And where are you, above this earth?

Where do you roam to with such dogmatic determination?

Where do I reside inside you?

In between hope and frustration?


I wish to hold you near, as, like the leaves,

we crumble and dry.

I wish to love you softly and slowly, together,

today and always,

as we die.

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The music here has created a movement,

and beauty is bleeding from within.

Everything is esoteric,

seeds budding and stemming from a glance, from the simplicity of a soft, gentle touch,

from my heart and to and through you.

All of this, of course,

has always been,

and always will be.

Harmony has passion,


fear flies with just as much grace as that of

a diving dove.


Now and again, illusions form–

blankets of snow are tricks from the midnight moonlight,

whispers beyond the hallway are shakes from a cold chill,

and painful thoughts are only fragments from feelings of the past.

We have buried ourselves,

all of us.

In so many shapes,

in so many ways,

in so many places.




But now, the air is aberrant

and these vessels;

these veins and vines,

these eyes and ears,

see and feel and hear

the heart of the matter–

the only matter that has ever mattered.


And so we travel on,

picking up the pieces,

trying to live our lives like circles.

Perfect in our own rotations.

All to touch again,




tender to shine together

we all are,

as long as we breathe



our skin.

As long as we share




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Brushes dipped in darkness are painting these streets black and back

to times before.

All of this is a distant memory lost to a dream.

Heavy heads resting upon brass rimmed beds,

lonely eyes, silent and shaking, crying out.

All we are is here and now,

how simple a thought to ponder?

Water lives like memories,

to evaporate and be again,

as time elopes beyond our fingertips

and what remains undone has been before.

The circular game of time is laughing perhaps–

all of us looking onward

as it comes up from behind us,

and swiftly,

upon us once more.


And this sad, pathetic brush is foiled in our forcing fate

to be what we think it should be.

We think darkness must be black

and that love has no place here.

Time is laughing still.



as I softly lean into to touch my love,

and feel her breath

as I kiss the cheek of which I feel fulfilled,

I disagree

with things

as they are,



The heart has always mattered more,

and darkness is only a passing color in a

circle that we can create for ourselves.

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