Sometimes I not only lose my place in the world, but I lose my place in my world.

And then something happens-and whatever it is, I remember I’m not half bad after all.

These moments take off like birds from a branch-fast and seem weightless.

I almost forget them. I almost don’t.

Allow yourself to feel everything fully and unapologetically. When we do this, we achieve a true awareness of ourselves and have no fear showing that person to the world. 

 

I’m working on sharing a new series of automatic writings I’ll be using a word i haven’t found yet to display. They are phrases that have come to me in meditation, on walks, and in times of reaching for understanding. This is the first in the series.

 

Rome:

From Brooklyn we roamed

Like young lions descendents

We felt right at home

Pisa:

Things are looking up

A Pisa our family

Found reunited

Florence:

Old art and new art

In an old place new to me

See how old/new see

Venice:

Siren of water

Swept me through her blue canals

Sway with me she said

Milan:

Eyes and a turtle

Opened up my perspective

At the 12 train stop

My right hand man tells me in Italy

When we get back to New York-I should be

his left hand girl and just take it easy

I’m slowly learning to do what feels good

And it feels good to roam around like this

With you all the countries we seek are home

In these months I’ve moved lost some old friends too

Hard times turned to goo made way for the new

Things are looking up I am on the mend

Such are the ways of family love friends

three birds flashed before my eyes

you, me, and elohim

what a holy trinity I thought

comedic and full of errors

we made sure to leave room

for tragedy

to honor the past that was

burning between

my fingers as I came home

to me

now I can really see

now I can really see

We had to burn the past for my shadows

to breathe free

freedom knocks when forgiveness calls

and we are home deep within

a core that bleeds upward

 

 

 

In a dreamy cadence she mused

 

I’m not sure what god looks like but I see

god in you-so maybe each person’s god

looks like their own version of a mirrored

you?

 

 she sighed

 

What’s god look like when you’re dreamin’ of them

in that warm blanket you call a cocoon?

Is god a giant or invisible

Yeah, I guess the god I see is blurry

like a foggy moon-I recognize ’em

even when a cloud is sifting on through

 

Maybe god is hazy ’cause god is light

and morphs with everything in our plain view

everywhere all at once , in darkness too.

Bits of him make up bits of everyone

so, of course, god must and can look like you.