“When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability… To be alive is to be vulnerable.” ~ Madeleine L’Engle
Yesterday, I was driving home from an appointment. On the curb, where I turn into my street, a father with his two-year-old sat where the olive trees grow. The sun was high over head at noontime and the light filtered through the leaves, leaving shiny patches on their smooth tanned faces.
Peals of laughter rang out from both father and his son, who was at the moment, having a ball playing with a plastic bottle cap. He held it up and played with as if it was a prized possession. There is magic in toys of this sort that can entertain for hours.
Both father and son were having the time of their lives. Chatting it up and laughing up a storm. So full of energy, that if they had done an impromptu rain dance a cloud would have surely appeared.
I rounded the corner, and slowed to a snail’s pace in case the boy decided to dart from where he was sitting, as young children often do.
I started feeling the wave of a blush fall over me as I realized I had entered and was enjoying their intimate moment when I wasn’t an invited guest to the party. I offered a little wave out of my embarrassment right as I passed them. The little boy waved back to me in the same way that my children used to when they were little. He waved his tiny hand, holding tightly onto the bottle cap. My heart turned into a puddle in my chest.
On autopilot, I parked the car in front of our house and got out to go inside. But, as my car door shut, the duo pulled me back to them like a magnet. Instead of walking to the door, my feet took me down the block toward where they sat. Continue reading →
I was contemplating this need after a conversation that I had with a dear friend. I had shared a poem with him and he explained that it caused deep feelings to well from the depths his heart. He was sad and told me that he felt like crying. This was the exact feeling that I had experienced upon reading the very same poem that I had sent to him.
The more that I thought about our exchange, the more I came to believe that I am at my most vulnerable with my writing when I am creating poetry. Somehow, this form of writing opens up the gates to my heart more than with any other type of writing is able to do.
I also feel that poems, when read or heard, dig a little deeper into our souls than any other form of written medium.
Further, I realized that when you have a very good friend, you can’t always hold back information that touches your own heart in an effort to spare their heart. We are on this earth to laugh and cry together.
The following poem was inspired by the above conversation with my friend. I was also inspired by another beautiful friend’s vision of how poetry (writing, reading, and sharing) frees our souls and touches all of us so deeply as every ‘Journey of the Heart’ inevitably does. Continue reading →
“Sensual pleasures are like soap bubbles, sparkling, effervescent. The pleasures of intellect are calm, beautiful, sublime, ever enduring and climbing upward to the borders of the unseen world.” – John H. Aughey
I have been struggling with the possibly of writing about sex and I just can’t go there.
I have teen children and a husband who is a very private person, and whom I respect greatly. And, I am also very private about this part of my life as well.
So, I have decided to write about some of the expressions of love that make me feel really close to my husband (and even some that apply to friends and family), which have nothing at all to do with sex. And believe me when I say that I feel that these sensual experiences are what almost every woman (and possibly man) secretly or not-so secretly desire and need in a relationship much more than sex at times. Continue reading →
I hear nothing in return but his gentle breathing and weigh the consequences of whispering aloud again.
I understand that he needs his sleep. But, at the same time, I sense the lonely weight of being the only one awake with unsaid words that press urgently against my heart. Words that need to be spoken.
“Honey, are you up?”
A few moments pass and then he utters a soft “uh-huh” as he turns to face my direction—his lovely familiar and sleepy, relaxed face glowing in the moonlight streaming through the window.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” He replies.
I decide to say what has been on my mind. . .
“Remember the last time I saw my dad and I thought he was dying because I felt that his soul had left his body, but no one believed me? Everyone told me that I was going crazy because there seemed to be nothing wrong with him, but then he took his life ten days later.
Well, I wish with every fiber of my heart that I had told him everything I felt about him while I still had the chance. I regret that I didn’t reveal that I knew something was wrong, but my feelings were influenced by other’s reactions so much that I felt too awkward and stupid to mention anything to him.
You know how nothing is certain in life? And I do feel that you and I are certain, but I can’t bear the thought of ever having to live without you. Continue reading →