Life, in all its splendor

A question we get asked so often….so for anyone that wants to ask me that question, for anyone that hesitates…anyone that has that darkness tickling at the back of their neck…

Your body is the physical manifestation of your soul. Every ounce of it marks your lifetime. Every scar, every bruise, every imperfection is a chapter in a book still unfinished. Every birthmark, every inch of skin is you…beautiful you.

Fat, skinny, curvy, yellow, black, purple, pimples, hair loss…whatever your insecurity is..stop. You are you…and all of it is delicious, all of it is seductive…because it is part of your story, your portrait. You will never find hate, judgment, disgust in my eyes, or my words for what makes you…you.

Accept you, the you that you see every day. Whether you are tired, bags under your eyes, your makeup askew, your hair in bad need of cut…I see you…I love you for the person you are today, tomorrow, and the future. Let me pray to you by loving every beautiful imperfection.

This is my truth...don't doubt it

I don’t often have time to indulge hobbies. However, this holiday season I am making homemade bows! I found a template and have gone crazy with it. 

Not celebrating too much this year, but oh my goodness I love making these. 

Are any of you dabbling in the handmade? Share your creations! 

It has been a long time since I looked in a mirror without distain. There were many times when I covered the glass, affronted by what looked back. A great deal of shame lived in my eyes, a shame I couldn’t, no, wouldn’t confront…but those days are done…

These days, I find myself smiling at what I see. My eyes light up with joy, they sparkle at the edges. I swim in the delicate green, watching the embers grow. 

I no longer despise the body. I see its beautiful curves, deep scars... Every imperfection, a chapter in a book still unfolding. My vessel is my soul’s manifestation, complicated yet so vastly simple in its needs. 

I love my solitude as I meander through this life. I find happiness in my day to day, celebrating accomplishments and learning from mistakes. How sweet it is to just be me, to hear my own voice. I can be harsh sometimes, but I hear a gentle melody more often now. 

I find lips grinning as I spoil myself. I bought new dresses, so darkly red. They made my ghost-like skin shine, as if I were a rose. I felt so beautiful, so loved by the mirror I hated. 

These days, I worship me because I deserve to be worshipped. I spent so much time hiding, now I am renewed in the glass and even on film. I find myself exquisite in black and white…I giggle as I fumble with angles and lighting. I know that out of 100 pictures, only one will be right, but I don’t care. I am worth the effort. 

I am falling in love with me, again. 🌹

Today, in the wee hours where the moon yawns and sun tickles the sky, death consumed. 

Today, I lost the dearest of friends, his transformation in the guise of sleep. The fight ended, pain released, and beyond waits. 

Adieu my friend, my heart…adieu. 

I am overcome with a restlessness that I can’t quite name. I am waiting on death, with fear, with rage, with hope. We know the end is near, but I am not ready. I want him to find peace from the pain and from the sinking knowledge that he will never see his loved ones again…but..but my soul can’t let him go. I want to protect him, surround him with all my grace, all my love, and heal the death within him. I want to sweeten his breath, and see him smile 5 years from now. I want him to watch his grand-children grow up. I want him to grow old with his beautiful wife.

I am restless. I walk the halls, every sense heightened. My skin feels like daggers, standing on end, threatening everything around us. I hold his hand, so weak, so cold. I look out the window, silently begging for something more..something to intervene. I hold his wife, I wipe away her tears. I grip the fucking plastic chair that they give people to wait on the dying.

I breathe, I breathe it all in. You are wanted, in every sense of the word. You are mine; you are hers, you are theirs. We want you..we can’t bear to live without you. god-damnit, please, why can’t someone do something. You can’t leave us yet..its not time. Your silence is breaking me; where is your laugh...I hear your breath, machines. I see your chest, once strong, once warm, once everything, rise and fall..machines..Where are you? Can you hear me?

I am restless for you. I want to follow you, guide you to that place, wherever it may be..say your name once more, and smile as you find your peace…but here I am, watching you fade, wondering, waiting on death.

I love you.

The news came today that a good friend’s battle with cancer is ending. The fight was short, fruitless, but human nature demanded that we try..fight to preserve time.

I write this as an empath, someone who regularly absorbs the pain of others, to give them peace..quiet. Sitting with his family, I see the pain, the shock, the unfairness of it all. No words or gestures can help, just raw human touch, shared warmth as tears flow uncontrollably, secretly, so as not to bother the dying. How I wish I could burn for them, soothe the turmoil…

Death is funny. Everyone experiences it differently. Some drink, scream, cry, fuck, laugh…but we all share the sinking realization that somewhere, some day we will share the fate. We do all we can to deny it, escape it, but as we experience a loss in others, we are reminded how impossible life really is. You can do everything right, eat the right foods, work out until you bleed, keep that perfect regime…but in the end, you have no control over your final journey.

I laugh, at funerals, not because I am some sick or twisted bitch (maybe?) but because our efforts are futile..our desires to hold on..bargain for more time..all of it makes no difference. Yet, you hear whispers of what caused the end, absurd things like not eating enough kale, not exercising enough…”did you know mushrooms can extend your life..” 

Our time is unknowable. Nothing we truly do will stave off the moment. So, as I hold my friend, as I love his family, as I grapple with a life without him, I am reminded of all the times I got too busy to call..too busy to visit. Time was always there, I stole it, bargained with it, put it off. 

Time is not your friend, it never will be. So grab time and love your special ones. Make the call you forgot about, hold on just a little tighter in your next embrace. Love…for everyone’s sake, just love.