outside in

You, my child.

You are before me with eyes wide open and I search myself for what it means to raise you. Love over contempt, action over apathy, acceptance over fear. We teach by example, you and I; learning through each day we are allowed another opportunity.

I and you –  anger and retract, push and apologize, cry and try harder. I see me in you – the good and the bad – and am too hard on you when I see pieces of myself that I wish not to see.

You act and I learn, you fear and I understand, you hurt and I die a thousand lives in one moment while I hold you with voice strong and embrace stronger. Together we hold hands that at times are hard to extend when we are at our most vulnerable existence.

We are beauty in that we are. And then there is you, and you.  Individual and exquisitely you and I love with admiration deep and mind altering.  

And when I think I have seen the most beautiful creatures on earth I am afforded the opportunity to view you through the looking-glass of another. And I am in awe. Always in awe of you but the view from outside in is truly breath-taking.

we

it is

me.

most definitely,

me.

who is

confusing,

even to,

myself.

still, you have

desire. of. none.

for me…

not the me, of now, for

she – in all of her

she-ness…

is a trigger.  that.

ignites within…

you (she hates that).

we have taken the

worst, of

us…

to display in all

ways, to

us…

you, and me,

we.

never.

planned.

this.

blindsided, with eyes-wide

open… and,

afraid.

ily, mm

I saw your beautiful being tonight through tears. Tears that I had two years ago. Tears that were easier to define tonight, though. They were tears of joy and amazement at you…a young woman now; no longer a child…and they streamed from my eyes the moment I set eyes on your eyes.

You see, you were my child for the better part of a year, and then you were gone, and I didn’t know what to do with that piece of love and missing…and maybe you didn’t either. I wanted to be angry and protect my own, but you had become my own, so then I was torn between two loves and feeling everyone’s pain.

I want you to know that he was the guiding light; the guiding soul; the one who led me back to love for you because his capacity for love is unbridled. But you already know that; his being shows exactly who he is and how glorious it is to love through his eyes.

My arms and heart will embrace you forever, no matter where you are; part of you will always be my child, and part of my heart will always belong to you.

mentor me tomorrow or always

I have been remiss in my writing.  I have no excuse other than one that is fabulous:  I have too many passions.  I am and have been trying my gosh-darndest to devote equal love to each on a daily basis but I am, as I have always been, a work in progress.

I could spend each moment of my existence happily floating amongst the freedom of art.  Creativity in motion.  In fact, I am working quite harder than is visible to the human eye (other than my own two which, coincidentally cannot see all that well) to propel my visions into reality.

And the reality is this.

I am 100% passionate about the following things:

-Spending copiuous amounts of time inside my own mind

-Writing and writing and writing my daily thoughts and observations; I have so much I want to share and so little time to put pen to paper to share it

-Each hand-written journal of quotes that I create; especially those designed for a specific person

-Every ancillary project that I have in the works under The Winking Phoenix

-Books I want to publish – forever wishing for more chunks of time in my day to free-flow my mental file cabinets

-Being the most loving, listening, kind, giving, compassionate wife, mama and general human being I can be each day

And, I am 100% committed to the  following things:

-Being the most loving, listening, kind, giving, compassionate wife, mama, and general human being I can be each day

-Being a better version of myself tomorrow than I was yesterday

-Offering the best of me to all I encounter, and absolutely to my husband and children on a daily basis

-Freeflowing my groove on a continuum that makes it all come together with some semblance of grace

So, with all that out of the way, I will enter into what propelled me from one creative endeavor to another:  What is a mentor? 

And you know I have a ton to both share and ponder.  And it was witnessing a mentor-in-action tonight that really got me thinking about the concept of mentoring, and what a true mentor does for others – and I am really excited to talk about it.

Stay tuned for my next post which promises to explore the many facets of mentoring.  I am tempted to start now (that passion thing is a killer)…but I am exhausted and it wouldn’t be as good as it could be for any of us…so after some much needed sleep I shall make my way back to these pages :-).

cranberries

pain in the deepest blue-gray swell of ocean crashing on cliffs and exploding in my head. beg to leave, go, settle into calm, peaceful sky but no.  medicate without true placation i breathe in and breathe out mindful of each ocurence as it needles and gnaws, clawing at each part of my body wearing me down to nothing more than a staccato reaction of myself.

my words not heard in your ears the final wild-card for a perfect storm and i break in that moment.

only to pick myself up and be whole.

crash

Saturday morning.  Sunrise.  White froth thrown from cliff-crashing waves dances before me, as if to say ‘Good Morning’.

Sun threatens to pierce through the morning clouds – her hue sure to influence the direction of my thoughts.

I am the grand crash splashing myself about the rocks; the uneven yet consistent tide; the fluid combination of darkness and light.

Leather & Lace.

These cliffs are my spiritual home.

headbutt

i need you to know…

my love is there.

i push, because-

i want you to grow, into

your best you.

my strength – your strength –

same eyes,

same legs,

same heart –

butt heads;

push and pull, and

i know…

it’s hard to carry your load, and

it’s hard to carry my load, and

i need you to know…

my love is there.

i push, because

i see amazingness

in you.

i just needed you to…

know.

interior monologue

Art in various forms.  Warm rosemary bread and coffee; Vanilla Nut.  Drumsticks and earphones.  Dirty socks on the floor.  Stuffed Animals.  Beach artifacts.  Fresh herbs and scented candles of the real-wick type.  A swinging chair in which to sit and ponder life.  Palm trees and brightly colored, freshly planted flowers.  Painted Terra Cotta pots of twelve-year-old girls.

A B-B-Q pit; our first major purchase together.  Books and books and books and music. Always music.  Peak eared puppy scampering by.  Overflowing laundry baskets and unflushed toilets.  Jingling dog tags.  Cuts and scrapes on my hands boast labors of love.  Dog toys, pencils, discarded food wrappers breaking free from their under-couch resting place.  Basketball hoop, deflated balls, no air pump in sight for years.  Paint where it should not be and slightly unsightly hedges; both requiring too much attention to be addressed.

Voicemail messages from my long-distance love, saved and savored.  Empty propane tanks and price tags still stuck to their owners.  Teenage cologne and brightly colored hair.  A subtle stench in bedrooms that do not get cleaned to my liking.  Pilot pens.  Sunshine rays that reach past the umbrella novella shine brightly on dog leashes.  Breeze.  Stairs piled with belongings needing to be ushered away by those who belong to them.  Lives changing almost before my very eyes.

Ice cream and puppy treats.  Music.  Always music.  Drum kit, crafting, art supplies.  Sparkling water infused with joy and happiness.  Friends and sleep-not overs; cereal stuck to bowls not properly rinsed.  Dirty finger smudges, travel souvenirs; another string cheese wrapper.  Journals piled atop one another in hopes of becoming a book.  Hostage math text (remnants of someone’s fifth grade).  Coat closet bursting at the seams minus any actual coats.

Tortillas, cheese, and sour cream.  Elementary school recess loudness competes with the din of skydiving plane zooming overhead.  Magnolia trees promising eventual shade and privacy and waterfall-turned-herb-garden amid various grasses, plants, palms and neglected dog poop.  Warm sunny places to nestle and shady spots in which to nap.

Transformation.  Always transformation.  Grandma Tena’s too-small china cup and daddy’s ashes in a tin I once gifted him.  Discarded school papers, a painted starfish, and two dozen tulips blooming in matching vases.  Love.  Always love.  Sent by my love with love.  Music in the backdrop; music in the foreground.  Open and trusting bonds.  Acne and stinky feet and elusive showers.  Vans aside sparkly golden flats, both pair in need of replacement.  Broken ear buds left by the discarder and trash trucks taking entirely too long to complete their missions.  Cacophony of sound ripping through my silence; home entirely too close to the main thoroughfare.

Puppy kisses with stinky puppy breath.  iPhone chargers abound.  Shattered screens replaced with hard-earned money and vivid dreams that make no sense.  A drawer full of his clothing and lip gloss he always kisses off.  Puppy nose peeking from behind potted flowers; restlessness desiring of a walk.  Taylor GS Mini, rosemary bread with butter, and an end to deliciosly satisfying contemplative thought….

Memories to cherish and last a lifetime.