ethics (n).


I am a good person
I am a bad person
I am enough and also
I am not enough and will never be.

I am a good person
and I am a bad person who
takes love that is not mine to take
though it is offered freely.

I am a good person and
I am a bad person
I have held all your wounds together and
I have pillaged your heart for all its worth.

I am a good person I am
a bad person.
I am a loyal friend
and I am afraid of myself.

I am a good person
I am a bad person
I am a good person
and a bad person.

plot line (n).


I think in the end I would like this to be
a story about knots loosening (in stomachs, in hands)
and learning the ocean's song a story about what great courage stillness requires
and maybe a woman who mastered the art of writing a great letter.
I would like this to be
the kind of song you hum to yourself when you walk yourself home from a long day
the kind of song that kept you company in the emptiness
the kind of song that wasn't afraid to have a broken heart.
In the end I would like very much
for this story to read
as less like an epic
and more like a prayer:
"grant me the serenity,"
"open my eyes that I may see -"
and then,
"thank you. Thank you. Thanks."

placid (adj).

3ade6eb042e553687f0fd9295b11ee75Why is patience always working so hard for my time? Why is stillness trying to find me? They, in their gentle manner, keep showing up, I see them follow me, waiting for a turn to speak. Do they not know I am busy, I am running? Do they not know I need to swallow the whole world even if it will make me blind?

rubble (n).

886956a47bd0f299c95aec833985cc78You are broken, and sat there, breaking. I will not gather you, like a shattered glass (I have shattered many from clumsy hands), I will not brush up the pieces. I am not afraid of the tiny slivers. I am not afraid of the mess. You don't have to go anywhere until you are ready. You can stay scattered on the floor as long as you need. I will tread lightly. I will watch my step.


fasten (v).

948d2537661dc3c8437a5f99d2efd145In this time of seemingly unbearable stillness, cling to even the simplest joys to fill the space. Cling to the morning quiet, the lazy kettle whistle, the hush that comes when the sun sinks slowly, and early. See: even the sky gets tired. Cling to the love you've known, and the hope that, as good as it was, it could be even better, cling to the eyes you catch glancing and the embraces from dear friends. Cling to the words you've written down and the person your mother sees you to be. Cling to the long sighs and puzzled moments, cling to the questions and doubts and even the little fears that sneak their way in, even in those things there is something to hold onto. Mostly, cling to others' kindness, whether the stranger who holds the door or the man who holds your heart so sweetly, the friend who holds your hand, your father and his simple "chin up" pep talk, the person in the coffee shop giving way for you to pour a dash of cream first, the bus driver greeting you, "good morning." Cling to these, urgently.

And even in the stillness of the dead of winter, the trees, sleeping and stripped of their skirts of leaves, dream of the first day of spring.

off (adj).


Where did all the words go?  I used to feel them in my hands, my feet,
They were the wiring in my knees, my spine and hips, the parts that
Hold me up and open.

Where are the sounds, the humming Muse stirring and singing
In the way she does, at midnight or in the kitchen, eyes gleaming
And her invitation, "come dance with me"?

Where even is my pulse, for often I found it impossible not to bleed
And show what my whole self was made up of, a river of red,
Proof. I am the living.

Where, from here, can I go?

distinction (n).

df3267ca9ebbd89af9fc15ea10db64c4I have come to learn how imperative it is to learn the great difference between a cage and a cocoon; while at first they feel like the same thing - claustrophobic, restricting, cramped, closed. In both it will seem like you've been there for a lifetime, and it will be a lifetime more before you get to go home. But it is imperative to learn the great difference between a cage and a cocoon; one will eventually transform every fiber of your being, and the other will just turn you to stone.

the word project recap part four: fear // courage.

88a231100a7b90cf1e347372c6337875What I am hungry for is to be wild and free, courageous and bold, and I get so scared of all that is included in seeking that kind of living that I want so badly to just stay home. Here's how that plays out: excavate (v). "What courage to bring shovel to earth and break ground, to commit to the dust and clay, to lay in the dirt for decades in hopes of recovering..."

brink (n). "And how the caution has translated into my life, how I estimate with a huge margin for chance mishaps, thinking what could go wrong, or at the very least, how many red lights I could hit on the way. It brings me too often to say, “why bother?”, it keeps me from going all chips in."

churn (v). "It all seems to come to a boil at once...the sudden necessity for the stormy waves when all you see is glass waters."

vow (n). "I can promise few things; there is much that is unknown and much that has yet to be shaped. There is little I own or have acquired that I can bestow to you."

project (v). "I hope I was more mindful of my wild heart, and all its musings. I hope I was more available and less doubtful to the possibility that my life can be richer and more full than I could ever even consume."

the word project recap part three: the muse.

af4d5a4f1adb05b0b19d6cbae3bc65edLove, not-love, heart-swoon and heartache. sweep (v). "but tell me all of the truths about your wild and beating heart, and I will tell you all of the stories I could ever think to keep you smiling and keep you near."

boundless (adj). "You are not mine to bottle, you are no one's, not even hers."

timber (n). "I’ll pitch the tent and you make the fire, I’ll meet you here in the wild mountain landing of your heart."

contagious (adj). "Your spontaneity sets me off-guard, it is alarming, and I get nervous, but the spark and the heat that rolls on my skin, the ignition I feel in my chest, the rising of the hair on the back of my neck when I’m around you, it makes me want to follow your abandon all over this town."

radical (adj). "You make me want to make a print and leave a mark, you make me want to colour the earth and fill it with song. After talking to you it’s like everything sings, and I like the world like that."

composition (n). "Then again, you are in every page and every piece  - sometimes about you, sometimes in your honour, sometimes a rebuttal to a previous conversation with you - but you’re always there, even if regrettably, because, if not the hero, you are at least always the muse."

youth (n). "We were just / Two kids, we were/ amazed to be in love, it was/ sweet and light, pure, it won't/ happen again, that kind.."

vary (v) "We are different and not the same, we are from far apart and we have gathered, glued and fused just the same."

fused (v). "I want to be leashed to your wandering, where we are free and full and light."

hush (v). "I want to climb inside your quiet. It threw me off, that’s certain, the quiet in even your hands and your ease in the silent moments that drift in and out of our conversation."

the word project recap part two: tension.

a6c1d1a041c8f23948b82a2f23527485In my thoughts and feelings I can often feel so binary: being an extrovert but needing space to mull things over, needing to share but needing to burrow, being afraid of everything but being afraid of becoming nothing. Craving wild adventures but loving the comfort of routine. Here are some insights into the wrestling of our hearts: stubborn (adj). "I was a child and wanted to prove to the world - anything."

scale (n) "There is so much to think on and decide, there is so much to weigh and sift, my love, so much flashing in front of my eyes, that is what is distracting me: everything and all of it weighs heavy, and that is why for me it all takes time."

churn (v). "It all seems to come to a boil at once...the sudden necessity for the stormy waves when all you see is glass waters."

revelation (n). "And the strange grooves all form a funny track in the middle of your chest, either etching toward What You Choose Because Of Fear, or, Where You Go Because It Sets Your Heart on Fire.| "And I want to be a girl ablaze."

contention (n).  "I need stillness, and silence for miles... I want the whole world and I want just here."

resolution (n). "...and to find treasure even in these simple days that are building into so much, and so tall a tower."

the word project recap part one: matters of the heart.

8591ccc2792cf31be75e09472da6317bI've been a little preoccupied in my little corner of the world - I started school a few weeks ago and I'm still getting used to the new routine (or rather, getting used to having no time at all). Also, and more specifically, I feel in many ways I am in a cloud of my own thoughts; there is lots going on up there but I haven't quite been able to put it into words for all of you, hence the radio silence. I've found myself going into the archives of my little blog, looking for clues, remembering what I was going through or thinking about when I wrote different entries, surprised (and pleased!) to see such movement in my writing and also in my thinking; the things that used to encompass me maybe not so heavy these days.

I thought I'd do a few roundups in the meantime while I sort myself out, of different themes I've seen present themselves. First up, Matters Of The Heart. Because that's what this whole year keeps circling back to. Probably still more on the heart to come.

vital signs (n). "In this time I have realized that I am so slow to give my heart concern. This is a metaphor, and it is also not a metaphor. It is the most important thing we could ever learn to do."

palpable (adj). "I want few things, but they are all unlikely [to make manifest my songs, my writing, your heart, to summarize]. And I am wondering if that makes me irresponsible to go after one or most of them."

ventricular (adj). "The heart wants what it wants, and it manifests with such funny persistence."

tachycardia (n). "It has shown me that its voice is one to trust, always, always. In all things, the heart is fighting to keep us alive."

Thanks, as always, for visiting, and for cheering me on. It honestly makes my whole world.


ebb (n).

1a22637b5a39b8cfd2a97f12fa027231This year has been a year of questions. This year has been a year of waiting. This year I feel someone came and hacked off all my hair in a reckless, hasty way and all I can do is sit and wait for it to grow. I'm shaking like those bald chihuahuas who don't know what they want. Snacks? Sleep? A sweater? They don't know that what they need is a carefree run in the tall grass to sort themselves out. Those kinds of dogs make me nervous. And now I'm one of them. There is all this stirring and clanging inside of my chest. Like running shoes in the dryer, shoes banging against my rib cage. Like a house with boarded up windows, but you have a feeling the lights are on. My heart is up to something, I just can't see inside.

There is a bay near where I grew up that completely empties of water when the tide goes out. The sand stays dark and heavy no matter how long the bay is empty, holes above where the clams lay so they can breathe. When you walk out to go find the water the sand cakes to your toes, making your steps heavy. Kelp black and green and damp, still damp, like the water was there, just, and you merely missed it. The salt water pools in puddles, when you look out it looks like mirrors are littering the sand. When I go home and visit the bay I would always wonder what it would be like to walk to the middle of the bay and wait, and watch the water inch back to the shore, the edge of the sea rolling back lazily like ripples of silk. I would wonder what it's like to stand and wait, does it take days, does it happen all at once, how long would I have to stand there before the sea was at my ankles, knees, hips, washing over my shoulders, soaking my hair. I get it now, though, I know it so well I can taste the salt; it takes forever. It will take an eternity, when you're standing in what basically looks like a desert, just waiting for the whole sea to appear. When you're waiting to be engulfed by the ocean, it will take your whole life, and then, when you can't even open your eyes to look where the sky meets the sand, you can't even look up to see what isn't happening, there will be a bubbling at your feet, and then a pouring in. When you're waiting for the ocean in a desert it will take forever, and then you will laugh, wondering why you ever doubted what the earth and moon have been doing forever, moving the ocean from one side of the world to the other. I guess we can allow such a feat to take a bit of time.