Posted on by Chasing Worms

Sleepless Nights

Another night, or rather early dawn, and I’m awake, as a million thoughts and memories run through my head like a trading ticker on the stock market.  It doesn’t slow down and I start tossing around as my body won’t get comfortable.  Finally, I get up refusing to fight  what woke me in the first place.  Why do some memories just show up out of the blue?  Why don’t others?

As I sit here in the dark, sipping on a cup of tea, I remember nights like this when I lived a block off the ocean in Long Beach, California.  I always slept with my window open, because I loved the smell of the ocean’s air.  It seems like a lifetime ago but the memory is still vivid, along with the smells and sounds.

There was a woman who passed below my window every day in the early morning hours, before the sun came up.  I don’t know why I thought of her now.  But the following poem poured out of me when I woke.  I use the term “poem” lightly.  Maybe once her memory is brought to life, I can sleep again.

Morning’s Rite
Crickets sing to whoever listens.
The air is heavy and sticky with
salty moisture of the ocean.
The robin’s solo sounds
lonely in the darkness.

Then I hear the humming;
Her “ohms” on every exhale,
in harmony together with
each step she takes, like
every predawn past.

As her song slowly fades
into the distance, it’s
replaced by the surf crashing
in repetitive sequence and
I am lulled back into dreams.

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Posted on by Chasing Worms

Writing my way out of a block

I have been gone from writing for too long.  You might say, “life” just got in the way.  I think of a country song, that best describes it; “…this crazy tragic, sometimes almost magic, awful beautiful life.”   That describes, without detail, pretty much everything.

I’ve been reading a few blogs lately, trying to be inspired again (not that I haven’t been), but to find something to help me write my way out of a block.  This month is poetry month.  Not that I’m a poet, but my young middle school self, thought she was pretty good at it when she would huddle with her best friend and pop out love poems that only pre-teens can imagine.

A writing site, which I’m a member of, posts things for inspiration that I usually never do, but today I decided to try my hand at it.  The instructions were: What do you love? What have you lost? What’s your favorite thing in nature? Let’s combine them into a poem!  Here’s what I came up with.

The sun’s warmth
pinches my cheeks.
Its light brightens the room
just like dad did when he walked in;
when he wasn’t just a memory.

I watch an Osprey
perched high on our boat mast,
spread it’s wings and demand attention
to the present, leaving the
past behind…for now.

Sometimes what you love, lost, and favorite things, can best be described in how you write about it.   I obviously don’t do any rhyming…well not since I got past those pre-teen years.  I don’t consider myself to be a poet, but this has sure helped to break the block.
Posted on by Chasing Worms

Raw…10 Years Later

Watching the memorial services on television this morning was like a hot poker into my heart.  Time eases the pain but one never forgets and I’m always surprised how easy it is for that pain to bubble forth.

I watch how people came together on that tragic day forgetting all their prejudices, their anger and resentments.  For a time we were all one…..one soul, one family, one hurt, one love.  Today a lot of those still remain; for others it seems some of the prejudices were exacerbated. 

For some the hate is stronger…the hate for other cultures, someone not like us in America.  Though I understand it, I also wonder how anyone can heal with so much hate.

As I watch so many different races and cultures come together I wonder if any of them realize, what they give of themselves…love, tolerance, and compassion…all come back to each of them.  Maybe some do, and others don’t yet contemplate it.  It was the main lesson that Jesus taught…”to love one another as I have loved you.” 

Most days we go through life without a second thought to someone next to us on the same bus, train, airplane and doctor’s office.  Yet when a tragedy like this occurs, we are suddenly aware of each person around us…their pain, their suffering, and somehow we find it within ourselves to reach out and connect.  That tells me that love and compassion are an innate part of who we all are.  It is the Divine in us.  “I am in you and you are in Me.”  We are part of our Creator; our Creator who is all love. 

Meanness, prejudice, hate are all negative things that are learned from our environment and others.  So can one day like 9/11 change the way people think about each other?  Can we learn to love one another as Jesus tried so hard to teach us, or will it take more 9/11s?  I hope not.

“All the Love that you’ve been giving, has all been meant for you”….Moody Blues

Posted on by Chasing Worms

Who is Your Beauty Muse?

I read that question somewhere recently and it took me two seconds to realize it was my daughter. From the time she was little she would tell me “how pretty” I was and that she wanted to be just like me when she grew up. I used to laugh and told her that one day she would change her mind.

Now my daughter is 31 with two children of her own and she still tells me how beautiful I am. She loves it when people tell her she looks just like me.
My daughter inspires me to take care of myself, not because of how she feels about me, but because I think SHE is the beautiful one, and I love it when people tell me how much I look like HER.