The mirror impulse

For many years the empath in us 

May manifest like this: as a reflective surface,

 Only mirroring back 

What we think others wish to see. 

With time, we learn to open up, 

To speak our truth and ask for what we need, 

But that impulse is still there; 

To hunker down, take shelter behind the mirror, 

And hide what we truly think and feel.

Change, triumphant

Looking down from above 

At the rivers, like cracks, 

That have carved and are carving 

The mountains around them,

 I’m reminded again 

How much power there is 

In allowing the flow; 

That change will always win out 

Over staying the same.

What we learn

The heights we long to scale 

 Can prove challenging: 

There’s many a slip along the way, 

And the slide back down has a chance of being 

Terrifying or exhilarating. 

But once we’re back on solid ground, 

What will we remember about the journey?

 The joy? The pain? 

 Or the friends we made along the way?

Happy Sunday!

May your Sunday contain moments 

Of beauty, purity, and grace…

The soul, exposed

Nature, like life, is a sculptor of sorts, 

Chipping away at the accretions of time 

To expose the essence within. 

And as I stare at this amazing work, 

I seem to see a face emerging — 

A mouth, an ear, the beginnings of a nose… 

Could this be the soul of the rock?

A colorful path

There are those in life who seem destined 

To walk a more colorful path; 

To see more, attempt more, and accomplish more 

Than falls to the rest of us. 

Be humbled and inspired, 

 But not discouraged by their adventures: 

 Though our colors may be more muted, 

We, too, have charm and value, 

 And an impact all our own. 

We, too, can work in our own communities 

 To help the world become a better, kinder place.

Dealing with grief

"Don’t worry,” my mom used to say to me,

 “There’s always plenty more fish in the sea,” 

Whenever I was distraught about 

 A betrayal, rejection, or loss. 

Of course that never takes into account 

The unique attributes of the fish that was lost 

Or the dwindling numbers of fish in the sea. 

But she, because of an early hard loss of her own, 

Was terrified of emotion, and so 

She chose to belittle, not honor, my feelings, 

Lest they trigger memories of her own. 

Perhaps that’s why so many of us 

Deal so poorly when faced with the grief of others: 

We’re simply attempting 

To protect our own hearts…