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Showing posts from November, 2010

Heart Attack/Letting Go

Heart birthing with no one to call hours worth of war waged beating outside of time, false rhythms too fast for too long. How much can the heart take? How much can it carry? split down the middle one side says inhale deeply now, the other obeys ribcage expands unnaturally to make room for the untempered organ contraction confused with Expansion. How much can the heart take? How much can it carry? bearing down Breath whispers its Proof of life. Making room for surrender to worse case scenarios to death. to realizing you never had control but had yet to understand what that meant even after all this time. Heart sways in and out cold limbs more pacing more racing How much can the heart take? How much can it carry? Breath still Proof of life Stranded between rock solid sensations and something in the midst calling one hand extended holding All within it, the heart its mighty symbol How much can the heart take? How much can it carry? Sweet release Riding breath that carries even the most un


The other night I had a vivid dream that my youngest daughter had died. There is a time when I would have been unable to even bring this to consciousness, let alone write about it. It has always been my deepest, darkest fear, to lose a child, and this fear has always been there prominently with my youngest. In the dream I could conceptualize her under her grave, which happened to be in a dark, jagged cavern of colorless rock and stone--no lush lawn, no flowers, just a gaudy gravestone, that glowed, like a tacky neon sign in Vegas. I found myself digging frantically in the earth under her grave marker to retrieve her little bear, so much loved by her in her five short years, that it is no less 'real' than the Velveteen Rabbit. I found the bear mixed with rubble above where she was buried, brushed it off, and clasped it to my heart, as if it was the last part of her I could keep with me. I pressed the little bear hard to my nose, sniffing for remnant smells of my daughter. The sm

Still Here

So, I don't know how many times I have imagined writing the post, Wild Road is taking a break, will reconvene back here at such-a-such date, or Wild Road is taking an indefinite break, or Wild Road is going off-line. Thanks for the memories! But every time this happens, it is followed by very poignant and opening moments of experiencing others telling their brave stories, of caring enough about others and wanting to connect enough with others, to let their voice be heard-- profoundly touching me in the process. I find myself reminded of why I show up here to be as real as I know how, as real as I dare--knowing that somehow in telling the stories, in continuing to share the depths of my soul for anyone and everyone, or as is mostly the case, a small few, that there is something worthwhile in this. I find myself adding just one more post, like I take one more step, or one more breath. As I stand back and take in the big picture of this process of sharing myself here, there is a defi


Photo by J.Scott Bovitz There is nothing I need do today. There is nothing I need understand. There is nothing I need to be. There is nothing I need have. There is my breath. There is the crisp fall air. There is the laughter of my children blowing bubbles in their milk. There is looking out the window and sensing something that flows through, and is all the space between, is the walls, doors or windows, with no need for them. A steady stream of golden radiance, and all the moments when I can feel it--until I shut my heart to it. More and more I bring it back. It knows my absence isn't personal. It is always there when I return, as open and as loving as ever. It waits for me. It waits for me to wake up to what is , and the essence of it that can only be communicated in melody. It leads me gently across the architecture of my life, shows me my patterns, nudges me to pay attention to the heaven parts. Like yesterday, when I called a local garage door company to tell them that I was


Photo credit J.Scott Bovitz Just love his sunsets! Sorry for the long lapse between posts. I've found myself in a quiet phase, perhaps better described as a listening phase. Although not listening in the way you would think. Not making a conscious effort to listen more to others, or to seek out more wisdom. I guess you would say I've been tuning more into the rumblings within--underlying layers of discord that feel familiar to my being, but seem to be rising enough to the surface, that I've become aware of the discomfort they are causing. Some of the rumblings have been related to childhood memories and beliefs. Some have been subtle discords with friends and family that I've continued to carry with me, despite all my work in becoming clearer in relationships. So much of the past few years has been about clearing out useless beliefs that I've held only out of fear, and so it seems now I've been dislodging some of the bigger boulders, chunks of myself ready for