Location, Location, Location

Where we are born
is not who we are
But it shapes
who we become.
Whether we embrace
or attempt to escape -
there is no undoing
the circumstance
of birth.
We are plopped on this earth,
exactly where 
we are supposed to land -
in order for us to become,
who we are meant to be.
The reality of location
and the fantasy of aspiration. 


It takes courage to self-examine -
and strength to face when 
we were wrong.
This should not be
a foreign feeling - 
it should be our every day norm. 
So much of life is running,
and we never take a step.
whatever it takes,
But victory can be found
when we sit very still
and hold a mirror to our faces
leads to self-realization 
and to freedom of self. 

The Very Last Piece

What will you give Him?
What is the thing
you love most in this world?
What is the object, the person, 
the corporation, the "thing?" 
That thing, that MacGuffin, 
that is the last thing 
you have to lay down.

It should be the first, but,
it is usually the last.
Why that thing, you ask?
Because it is the last,
the very last barrier
between your heart and His.

What has He ever given you, 
you ask? 
He has given you Everything -
He has given you Jesus.
He has given you Himself. 

The least we can do in return -
the very least, is give Him
all of us....every last morsel. 
Even that bit we've been 
holding back, saying - 
"Yes - you can have it all...
except "This.""

"This"... is exactly the last
of the currency.
But fear not, for the rate 
of exchange is priceless.

You give Him 
the very last piece 
of your human heart,
and He gives you Eternity.  

Why Do We Write?

Why do take up our 
proverbial pen and write?
Why do we take the time
and make the effort 
to share our thoughts
and feelings and lessons learned?

Perhaps for the same reasons 
that generations before us did.
We are compelled. 

Words spill out of us 
and onto the page, 
liquid puddles of letters
that become words 
that turn into sentences 
that form complex thoughts
and emotions,
that leap from the page
and into the mind of our reader
who is perhaps contemporary,
perhaps generations ahead of us,
but who all say, 
"I understand what you mean." 

Writing is a form of time travel. 
A message from one kindred spirit
to another. 
Between the lines we say,
"I've been here before, 
just as you are here now. 
I survived, and so shall you." 

And our recipient, who may 
not yet even be born, 
closes their eyes and sighs, 
reassured that life will go on.

And that, I think, is why we write.

Rewriting History

When one sets about 
              to rewrite history,
the BIGGEST and best 
piece of advice I can share....
is make sure you 
send the new drafts 
to those who lived the events 
with you.
It makes for some 
very awkward glances. 

Thumbing through my poetry journal, this was written exactly one year ago today. A lot of my early work was much more focused on anger and hurt, and was written without editing. It was just whatever I thought in the moment and put on the page, then closed when the thought stopped. 

I'm pleased to share that this particular method of coping has helped me so, so much. Obviously, none of these "poems" rhyme, they are just words arranged on a page in an artistic manner...to help me think through and take what I feel and bring it out of me, and onto the page. 

I never imagined that they would even be intelligible, and I certainly never thought I'd share them, but I've seen a real growth, and I think it's important to share, especially if someone else decides to try it, and it helps them too.

Say It Now

Every time someone passes away, no matter what the circumstances, there are people left mourning. A celebrity brings joy to millions, and so, that loss is felt by millions. A woman from a small town may not have affected as many on a global scale, but her loss is just as deeply felt by those who loved her.

Earlier this month, Vicky Wise, a beautiful beacon of my community, passed on after a six year battle with cancer. And today, I, along with most of the world, was shocked at the loss of comedian Robin Williams.

Two very different people who faced their final days in very different ways. One was in tremendous physical pain, while the other was in tremendous emotional pain. Vicky was surrounded by loved ones in her final moments, while Robin, presumably, was alone.

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