Deb
Reader, Thinker, Writer, Lover.
February 2015
February 27, 2015

Winter

Written by Posted in Poetry Comments 1
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Heavy

Hushed

Cimmerian, somber.

Even before the rooster wakes,

the earth is still

as if being blanketed

by expectation,

weighted with longing. Read more…

February 26, 2015

Celebrating You!

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“One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood.”

~Lucius Anneaus Seneca

 

What a wonderful surprise to be going along in life, and one day, to have a friend drop into your lap…one who always has a word of encouragement, a challenge, a fun song to share, or a goofy story. Life brings so many challenges and heartaches, but sometimes it makes up for it in the form of a lovely person to share the journey. Read more…

February 24, 2015

Illumination

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It is 7am and 10 degrees. I am sitting outside on the east side of my house, bundled up in a coat and blanket. I position my body so that the sun is directly in my face, its strongest rays beaming right into the center of my forehead, the place of the third eye.

The rays bore through my head and begin to fill my mind with streams of liquid gold. I feel these streams of light running through the spaces and flowing down through the rest of my body, breaking through blocks of anger, sadness, selfishness, and unbelief. They leave in their wake illumination and warmth. I open my eyes and the snow dances with crystalline brilliance; the long shadows cast by the trees seem alive. I reach up and touch my forehead, convinced there is an actual hole there. Read more…

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I am not Catholic, but often find myself at a Friday morning mass looking for peace or some word…mostly, to be close to my Grandma, who has lived in heaven for some time. I carry her little pink rosary when I go– it’s like a talisman against all my doubts and fear. When I start panicking that “Omg, I’m in church! I don’t know if I even believe in God!,” I run my fingers over the tiny pink beads and the face of the Blessed Virgin, and hear Grandma’s voice telling me to just sit. Be quiet. Escucha a tu Corazon…Listen to your heart. Read more…

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I really don’t want to introduce her this way. After all, who wants to be defined by what holds them back? But, I think it’s important in understanding her story; how her weaknesses were made strengths. Read more…

My beautiful best friend and her little Superman
*photo is my beautiful best friend, reveling in a very human moment with her little Superman

Birth and death have so much in common. There is a sort of melancholy magic in the process of the formless spirit becoming flesh, then becoming spirit once again. I think that our time here on earth is a short window in the timeline of our souls – and what exquisite joy and pain it is to be human.

I want to feel this human-ness.

I don’t want to miss out on a single moment of the divinity of existence. Read more…

February 11, 2015

Burn the Witch

Written by Posted in Blog Posts, Poetry Comments 5
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I stand, locked, in front of the Van Gogh. I feel dizzy, lightheaded as it draws me into itself. My feet are planted, but I feel my body being pulled into the scene. My eyes break away for a second and I glance around, wondering if anyone else feels what I feel – the energy and joy and anger and consciousness emanating from that painting…I reel backward, tearing my eyes away. Next, the Picasso. Hours later, I leave the museum in an exhausted sweat. Read more…

Communicate

The fit was impressive to watch, really. And, since I was watching from between his ears and on his back, it was a little frightening as well. Sitting on 1200lbs of pissed-off muscle that has the ability to run record-breaking speeds and throw your ass a dozen yards across the arena is not exactly where you want to be as a rider. Read more…

February 9, 2015

Becoming a Natural

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She’s diving. Sweating. Throwing herself to the floor. Her skin scrapes across the mats. Her hips and knees are bruised. She hits the ball down, and girls on the other side of the court duck as it flies millimeters away from their faces. A few of them aren’t quite so lucky and have the ball marks on their foreheads to show for it. They walk away rubbing and shaking the parts of their bodies she has nailed. She stands up and turns around, grins, throws her head back and yells…YEAHHH!! The points rack up; there’s a monster on the court.

She’s a natural.

Or is she? Read more…

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It’s dark and my heart is pounding.

I’ve been running for some time

and when I stop and turn around

The Fox is there. Read more…