dancing in circles
shining with vibrant aliveness
cycling into quiet darkness
moving in a cosmic rhythm
like a blossoming, dying
blossoming, dying


We’re deep into winter where I live. Outside the trees stand naked, While the day light hours are technically increasing, it is dark, and cold. This time of year, a kind of fading and hibernation happens. I turn inward, nourish myself, indulge in rejuvenating activities like cooking something delicious or curling up in a cozy chair to read. When spring comes, the trees bud in the warmth of the increasing sunlight. And, I too, move differently, feeling strong, energized, and ready to stretch into the growing light.

This poem is about the cyclical patterns I notice in my emotional experience. I am filled with joy and see abundant beauty, and then I feel sad or angry and life feels gray. Always, sitting in the darkness, light comes again – and through the light, gray approaches and pulls me into darkness. Over and over. Sometimes with so much space between them, sometimes with so little. I’m learning not to judge either one as good or bad, just ‘what is’. I’m discovering that when I sit long enough with any experience, it changes, morphs into what’s next, something else, something born from what has come before.


* The images at the opening of the blog are photos I took of a clematis vine that used to grow on the railing of my back deck – one when the blossoms were at their peak, and the other when their glory was fading.


red geraniums backyard 2


I strip away the film
that has built up over the years.
I feel as if I’m moving backward
as the layers fall away.
I question the false self
that I have created with my beliefs.
My certainties drift into air
like sand disappearing in the wind.
I stand open and empty
like a young child without expectations.
As my real self is exposed,
I see I have been moving forward all along.

I wrote this poem over 7 years ago. I forgot that I even wrote it. Somehow it never made it into the file where I stash away my scribblings. I happened upon it when reviewing some old journal entries and letters to a friend. I was surprised how it spoke to me again, all these years later. Circumstances are different, yet again there is opportunity for rebirth.

How my coach at the time interpreted the writing was inspiring: She saw a woman shedding old layers to transform into the beautiful butterfly she was meant to be, a woman who discovers that she has always been a beautiful butterfly, she just needed to let go of what was weighing her down so that she could soar.


* I took this photo of a geranium blossom in my backyard. I picked this photo because the water on the petals speaks to me of tenderness, and that seems relevant given the open and exposed feelings expressed.

at peace

day lilies

I feel at peace when I remember:

  • Everything is already OK.
  • I have all that I need to take the next step.
  • I don’t have to know.
  • Each breath invites the opportunity to be alive, awake, aware.
  • All I really have is this moment.
  • I make a difference by choosing the thoughts I acknowledge and live into.


This is an excerpt from my journal. These little conversations with myself are like poetry to me. They arise from someplace wise deep inside of me – sometimes it seems someone else is actually doing the talking. They inspire me and keep me pointed in the direction I want to go.

What do you remember to support you in creating what you want in your life?


* I took this photo of these orange double daylilies growing in my backyard during the afternoon light.