At the end of the day when I exhaust patience with chores, the dog curls on the floor next to the bed. The cats press against screens in window wells, resigned to watch the dark between naps.
The warmth of the boy’s voices teases and tells, pushes and pulls me with tales of their pranks. I tuck them into beds in a house a mile away from home.
A silence like a sigh, peaceful and lonely as the tide, ebbs and flows; high and low washing over me.
In this quiet I’ve learned to sit still, to read a book, write a song, or knit a scarf. In the silence I've learned to listen to my heart, to trust my needs, to make amends. There are nights when I wrestle against the silence. I try to strong -arm my life back into a mold of dreams that fractured long ago. More often my nights are full of Mercy and Grace.
Nights when a voice travels over miles of land and sea sending warmth that works through the tight knots of my spine; a voice like a hand pressing against the small of my back. This is where grace lives, where yesterday, dissolves into this very moment.
At the end of the day I can imagine a whisper in my ear, swimming in a warm sea of you and me.

I feel like the American Girl in Paris, A little frightened, A little indignant, A bit confident, very self-conscious, flattered and very, very turned on.

It's about the shallow nature of flattery and flirtation
the deep satisfaction of having my son back at home and knowing I am a good mother.
It's about fixing up the house,
tilling the garden,
cleaning the laundry room
It's about standing my ground
It comes from functioning outside of my head even only for moments at a time.

I'm working on a project - summer camp for adults. I want to make it a retreat/spa for the frustrated right brain grown up. We'll spoil ourselves with yoga, dance, painting, cooking, massage, pedicure and rock band. We'll have centers and wine and cheese and music and freedom to play, we'll ride our bikes and be free!

This is where I am

An American Girl in Paris.

Monkey Grass VS Monkey Mind

Working in the garden a thought came, and I'm hanging on to the peace that it brings for as long as my heart will let me.

Because I'm open, willing, honest, and self-reliant, because I'm sweet, and I listen and I don't presume I know best, because I will give more than I'll take, because I make it happen and don't ask others to carry me, because I pay the bills, taxes, work in a job that is not self-serving, because I love easily, bruise and cry easily, because I'll go there alone, but would rather have company, because I mess up the house, clean it up and mess it up again, because I don't brush my cat often enough, because I equate sex with affection, because I don't abandon, I don't' let go easily, because I am who I am, because I look like I do, with wrinkles round my eyes, and the skin with battle scars, because I expect loyalty and kindness, because I will see others faults down to the root and I will look beyond for hidden beauty,

because I am all of these things
I am not wrong.

disregard
disrespect
disloyalty
dismissal

these things are not my issue.
If someone chooses these things,
I am their loss.
Because that is true for me
it is also true for them
It is my loss

And loss should hurt.
so, I'm not wrong
It's OK to hurt
I should hurt..

till it stops.
and it's OK

I am not wrong.