Unwelcome but needed Discovery

“My only enemy is me!”

The first time I yelled this lyric,

The incredible release I felt was worth losing my voice.

As I sit in a room,

Even among friends,

I ponder why I often feel so out of place or that I should leave.

But this thought is typically ignored or escapes me;

Could it be

that I’m making myself uncomfortable?

Could it really be that I’m the biggest blockade in my pursuit of happiness?

If I were an island,

I’d be praying for a tsunami;

To wash me away,

Swept up by the tide

to be spread as thin as possible.

Get out of the solitary confinement of your mind,

Enter reality;

Let go of your constantly written analysis,

And just be present.


Towel Slap

Attempting to hide inside,

While revealing all too much on the outside.

And somehow I remain hidden,

Managing to be seen just long enough

to become nothing more than a vapor.

Screaming in my sleep,

Hitting nothing but shadows lookin’ to box.

Crying tears of confusion,

Work fueled by anxiety.

I’m not alright, okay, good,

And I’m actually really good about not being great

possibly ever.

But I’m also alright with not being downright terrible.

Over the next few days,

Creatures of the night will be roaming during the day;

And the only creatures at night will be those who consider themselves “normal”.


The Earth Will Shake

I will walk;

Miles, meters, feet, kilometers-pick how you want to measure it

Because I’m walking.

I wouldn’t have the wisdom to move on,

If I was doing this walk alone.

I’ll admit,

There are times when I need to take a rest;

And it’s in those time of the world melting away

That instead of bliss, I feel dismay.

Without a shoulder to lean on,

An eye to make to contact with;

A voice to respond to,

Or an ear to hear me out.

As I lie down in the still black of night,

Peacefully restless at best;

My mind wanders farther than I could ever go physically,

But you keep me from going to far.

And even when I try to swim where most don’t even want to tread,

You remind of the danger and worthlessness of such an experience.

While experience is a great teacher

And scars sometimes a good reminder;

Trauma is not something to run to,

But once it’s happened

It shouldn’t be run away from either.

What has happened in life,

Is history written and done.

We can talk around it,

Mentally avoid it,

Dispose of any tangible remnants;

But to the minds eye,

It will always be there.

So, stop running.

Feel your bumps and bruises,

Scabs and scars;

Blood drops, blood stains,

Wrinkles, cracks, and all.

All on display,

Not for your harm but for fuel and teaching.

They are not what makes you,

“Who” does not equal “do”.

And it never should.

When your ignored,

Keep going.

Avoided or forgotten?

Keep going.


Express gratitude,actually express it at all times, but also keep going.

Keep moving, climbing, giving, loving, and resting.

It’s not about keeping score.

If you’d rather calculate a score,

Your life will swiftly become a bore.


Letters sent, Bodies found

To the dearest and farthest,

To all who are similar and all who are different,

I plea with you to come together.

Even just once, if only for a moment.

It’s funny,

The things that can bring humans together in some type of union.

It may be something as insignificant as having the same material possession,

Or something as meaningful as a birth or death of a beloved one.

‘Tis very sad though,

How such togetherness can be taken for granted.

As I stride down the busy, lively city streets;

Surrounded by many fellow men and women.

Some in groups, some in pairs,

And some much like myself;

To themselves and possibly not by choice.

It’s not that we necessarily seek some sort of sympathy,

Charity especially is not needed.

For company of another is a privilege,

At least that’s my belief.

But as I walk these streets,

Both familiar and strange,

And the breeze brushes my arms & legs;

I’m reminded of the intimacy in loneliness.

And as I look into the eyes of another nomadic soul,

Another beloved one who’s maybe lost a bit more control;

I try to help them know,

They are seen.

Their presence is important,

Even if their circumstances lead them to believe this is false.

Even if the demons that have made home in their mind and soul,

And their addiction yells about just how little control they have;

They are still important,

And oh so significant.

Able to change as much as they want,

When they want;

They will need help,

And they probably don’t know how to ask for it.

I don’t either so,

We have yet another commonality.

I’m helpless in being able to ask for help,

But it’s not only my reality.

I unfortunately see it in too many people,

Wandering souls carving out homes in holes they find.

Life and Death,

Two incredibilities that we obsess over knowing oh so little about them.

At least, usually, beyond our own finite perspective.

I would continue,

For my emotions spur me on;

But my mind knows,

That the ineffable has come.


Partly inspired by an NPR broadcast about a book entitled “Letters of Note”, particularly the reading of a letter written by a couple Margaret & Hugh Connell(spelling may be wrong) to the Ciulla family. They found the father of the Ciulla family(the letter was read by his son, Frank) in the field of their farm after the plane he was originally flying home for Christmas on, was bombed.

If you have a bit of time to take a listen of this beautiful letter, please do.-http://www.npr.org/2014/10/17/357004557/out-of-the-lockerbie-bombing-a-bond-and-a-letter-of-note

(not) The Meaning of Life

Working to get by,

In order to live the life on a personal self-confidence high,

With no soul to be found in your eyes,

And the only obsession beyond your greed is the hopefully decreasing size of your thighs.

Being whistled at like a dog,

Your words aren’t heard.

Who you aren’t is who you are,

And even if you do everything possible to make this false

it’s still true.


If only question signs could really appear above our heads,

In a time of confusion to bring surprising clarity.

Sometimes the only way to see clearly,

Is to realize that your perspective is blurry.

With every autocorrect our vocabulary becomes a distant memory,

But at least our arrogance is kept in tact by our 1,000 Facebook friends and counting.

Communication that requires effort and offers depth is all too much,

Partial conversation and regurgitated answers is they way;

After all then there’s no fuss.


OH, how we have no clue what it really is.

At least occasionally,

we see beyond the spectacle that we create in our own skewed minds.

But no matter what you think of Life;

It’ll never be something made in an app,

Just for you.


gråt sjel

With so many emotions resisted,

The proverbial lump in the stomach or chest begins to feel more like a free weight,

Or rather a slave weight in the sense that it is the source of your hindrance.

Internally bound by things both invisible as well as visible,

Externally writhing in frustration at the realization of how much help you truly may need.

And also that you don’t completely know how to acquire such help.

Meditating on the power of light,

When feeling surrounded by the dark.

A daunting, but proven to be worthwhile experience.

Your primary spoken language seems to have lost it’s potency,

It’s effectiveness is minimal at best in describing most anything.

But rather than lamenting things beyond your reach,

It is better to expand your horizons in ways to utilize you resources;

Making what is limited, appear to be much more.

When feeling surrounded by the dark

Beneficial Disrepair

Have you ever rejoiced because you broke something?

I’ve only had this privilege a select amount of times,

In moments of intentional demolition,

But it really is special.

Then again, to suggest joy can come from a season of life filled with melancholy

Seems to be folly.

We must not break things within ourselves or outside at will,

But we must also not let brokenness delude us into believing time should stand still.

Things fall apart, feelings are hurt, hearts and windows are broken alike.

But sometimes, the only way to start afresh

Is to break.

Break away from the mindless patterns,

Break down the panopticon housing your soul.

Take back the freedom you gave away,

As well as the freedom you never knew was your own.

Let your revolution be a revolution per second,

A moment to moment process and change.

Don’t look to revolutionize the world,

When you haven’t taken the time to revolutionize yourself.

There are days I feel beyond repair,

And then days like today help me actually rest in my chair.

I know I need help and need to be completely restored,

But being broken or in need of repair

is sometimes the main way to learn how to better or move forward.


A treasured quote that has helps me as I continue learning how to be vulnerable. 

“We take things as they come. We learn as we go. We learn better when we’re not alone.”