Friday, February 24, 2012

The Hero Within

Amazing things can happen when we believe in ourselves.

First, you discover that you do, indeed, believe in yourself!

You are not outsourcing the job to someone else. There is no worry that you may be left behind and without a believer. No being up a creek without a paddle. No church without a congregation. No "fly by night" company peddling their wares only to find it was always an empty room. No helium balloon that has gone impotent days after it was given to you.

Belief in yourself can always be connected. It can always be recharged. Wherever you show up, there you are, greeting yourself and feeling glad that you are here. You can always have a president of your own fan club. And you always have a superhero to look up to-either in underwear and tights, or formal clothes.

You begin to discover your own worth. You begin to create your own fortune rather than relying on luck. You begin to value your own time, energy and resources. You begin to count on yourself and not the change that you find elsewhere.

You begin to discover that you are the artist of your own dreams and anything else is someone coloring you in for you.

Today, I was given the opportunity to make a choice: go with fear, or take a stand in believing in myself. I realized that there was no questioning the choice. I believed in myself. I said no to a fear based decision. I was living my words of "leap of faith" and said no to the option that would sway me from my dreams, goals and the calling of my soul. I stood behind myself and found that I really was my own hero.

And organically stemming from that was a lot of other people believing in me too. Because belief is catching. Kinda like a smile. You can't help but want to smile-or believe-too.

The hero within
knows the core of our strength and
never lets us fall

The victim within
knows the path to our weakness
wants to wear us down

Let the hero win
by loving our victim and
then we will have wings

With our wings we then
have the power to fly, our
hearts are free to love

All paths are there to
show ourselves that there really
is no way to fail

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Becoming your own best "BFF"

Tonight, my 5 haikus are enough. And so are you.

I Am Enough Already

Some days I will yearn
for the moment when I just
feel it's all perfect

when the smile in my
heart matches the smile on my
face and in my soul

where I don't have to
pine to be anything but
the flower within

it's those moments when
I realize that it's time to
be my own best friend

because yearning is
a sign that I am thinking
that I am not enough.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Freedom in the Darkness

It's been awhile since I posted-okay, a week. I celebrated with you in my last post, and then I took a little break. Life distracted me in other ways. I knew I'd be back though. I hesitated posting this spontaneous poem because it is not all rainbows and happy thoughts. Since I don't hide anymore, I decided to post it anyway. Consider this the thorn on the rose. It's showing you my shadow side with a flashlight. I am not going to be embarrassed by my dark poetry, my dark thoughts, my strange interpretations of the nightmares in my life. I am going to be real. And in this realness is a little girl with a very adult like tongue who uses her words to lash back now that she has the words and the freedom to no longer hide. We don't dwell here long-like I said, it is showing the darkness with a flashlight. When I turn the light fully on, it is all changed and gone away. But don't we all have nightmares from childhood that keep looping in our head and psyche? Doesn't that chair in the corner look like a monster in the dark shadows of the night, or soul, no matter how many times we convince ourselves otherwise after we've turned on the light? The spontaneous, free-flowing poetry that is written when we are feeling like we are in the dark room of the past is like turning on the light. It doesn't have to be true anymore. It gets the fears and tears out and allows our inner mother to tell ourselves it is all okay and to soothe the scary parts so we may know that we are loved. We can clean up the spider webs and live freely again. 

Recurring Childhood Nightmares Loop

Between these worlds there is a heartbeat, a murmur, a silence so deafening it screams within you, within the fear of itself, the echo of the past words and dialogs and scripts that dangle in the breeze of your head like last night’s spider’s work running across the yard, capturing the leaves and lint that the wind blows as it howls through the darkness of night.

These echoes of the past haunt like a rotten boat creaking on the shore waiting to take a journey to never return. The bell ringing at the hour and the ice cream man plays Christmas in July and Happy Birthday every day. Like lions roaring at the hand of the child who wants to pet it.

Who knows what evil lurks within the mind of a used child? The game players, that’s who. The haters and doubters hedge their bets that invest in hedge funds that play games of nothingness supporting the best suit and squashing the intuition out of those who truly want to believe.

We die young when we have to grow up so fast. Have mercy on us! We know only what they do, for if we were to think for ourselves we would be squashed, caught like the lint and leaves that were blown away by some other force. There is gravity when you are trying to fly and no flying without the wind and wings.

Be still you silly little expense! Be quiet you nagging black hole! If you can’t say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all but make sure you hear me when I am screaming at you because I will make sure you never forget these damaging words of hate and regret and angst for my own childhood. What good is yours when I did not have mine?

I need to loose my mind to find my mind so I may mind my own. Do you mind if I mind? Or do I just need to rewind to be kind?  You play hopscotch and jacks with my feelings and dreams and tell me how bad the terrorists are when they hijack planes. You praise the man and hate the women who birth them. Change the world, you say, and then hate those who change it. You need to grow up, but you are growing up too quickly. 

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Celebrating the Celebration

Tonight, I celebrate the beauty of what has become. I rest in the joy and comfort of feeling accomplished in my tasks and vision and work and dreams and beauty that were unearthed today, yesterday, and every day forward. I celebrate the moments where I stood in my truth. I celebrate the moments where I loved myself first. I celebrate the moments when I listened to my heart. I celebrate the celebrate-able and all the moments in between.  I celebrate you!


There is a great joy
in knowing the truth about
the beauty of life

The great beauty of
life is knowing the truth of
the beauty of joy

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Residing in my Heart

Today and yesterday I was feeling a little more quiet. Within this quiet, I found a gift. A deeper connection to my heart. In this connection, I remembered my love of Haikus. They serve as such a reminder that in a simple structure there can be so much beauty, freedom and creativity. So much can be said in just 17 syllables. Simplicity. Form. Freedom. Blessings.


Haikus of My Heart

My heart has the wings
To carry me beyond what
The world can show me

I trust in Spirit
To color me in beyond
All I imagine

Holding fast to what
Inspires me to become
A more perfect me

For being me is
What I was put here to be
Nothing less nor more

Therefore all of me
Sings the song of my being
Like sounds of heart wings

Monday, February 6, 2012


We make change. We become transformed. As a Transformation Consultant, I work with people who want to move beyond desiring a change in their lives and are truly ready to transform their lives.  This blog is something I do for myself. I like sharing it with all of you, and primarily it is for myself. It is a part of my own transformations. There is something about how my voice comes out here that is different than my other venues and mediums for writing, speaking and coaching. My Spontaneous Poetry sparks a part of my creativity that is different than anything else I have ever tried. (I do have a B.A. in Creative Writing and this is way different than what I did in school because I am not worrying about the critiques, the kudos or the grade. I publish it myself so there is no need to wait for a rejection either!) It is not like my journal or a diary. I become my own audience. And I think we all could use a little bit of being our own audience in our lives. It's helping me pay attention. And I certainly don't want to catch myself falling asleep while watching my show!

I get to work with what is present in my mind or energy field. Maybe it's a song, a phrase, a feeling, a sentence-I never really know! I do know that the more I do this, the more I love it. It's a gift to myself and I receive it. It squashes my perfectionism tendency and allows me to simply play. It also strangely feels safe while keeping me from hiding. This seems like such a contradiction! I'm not playing a role to please others-I am simply playing. I feel inspired. I feel like no matter what, I always have something to say to myself. And I have a chance to listen.  It is allowing me the chance to get to know myself even more fully. Sometimes I can even recognize the significance of something that I wrote and how important those few words can be and how they spring forward and mean so much to me in my learning for the day. For instance, the poem I wrote yesterday. It seemed like so many of my conversations throughout the rest of the day ended up referencing the poem and what I learned about myself from it.And then I  learned even more.  I don't believe in accidents. I believe that we are being spoken to all the time and are always given guidance. This is where transformation begins...within. Just listen. Or maybe write.

Today's poem is a celebration and gift to all whom I have talked to in my life, worked with, supported, been supported by, and to all those whom I have yet to meet. I thank you! You've helped me create and follow my Recipe for Success.

Recipe for Success

1 ounce of Belief in Yourself
3 shots of inspiration
Followed by 1 shot of inspired action
And a touch of clear direction
            (this may be cloudy at first glance)
4 big handfuls of “I can do it”
Followed by another 4 cups of “Look what I did!”
Add a teaspoon each of heart and soul
Scant any yucky stuff
Fill the middle with words of encouragement
And search inside for any other gifts you may have forgotten
Improvise the ingredients, working with what you have
Taste as you go
Sweeten the balance with a dash of fun
Share with others for taste tests
Yet you are the creator of this recipe
Remember you are your best equipment
Be mindful of your smoking and melting points
Top with a dollop of your sweet dreams

Let it rest for awhile if it starts to harden and toughen up

Add a little wow factor in your presentation that suits you best

Serve to those who want to savor what you have
And ignore the rest.

Repeat when you want more. 

Sunday, February 5, 2012

I'll Write You a New One

I am beginning by creating a space for inner peace. 
(                                        ) 
Now I can reside within that. It's there for me whenever I need it. Soon, it will fill up my whole space and won't need to be symbolic and embraced in parenthesis. It will be a full exclamatory statement that needs no words or promptings. It-and I-can just be. We can bring the two parts of the parenthesis together and create a circle of hugging.     

Some days, the idea and notion of liking myself and being at peace with and within myself appears much easier than the reality. This unrest and discomfort feels like this itch that I can't scratch or get relief from because I don't know where it is really coming from or where it is located. I know I want the relief-the feel good feeling, the peace-yet I'm not really sure how to find it. I think in these moments I realize that I am really far away from myself. I may have found myself thinking about the past or how people have shown me or told me  "how wrong I was." I let them slip into my head and I start thinking, "Well, they must be right." I start believing them over myself. I don't think this way works very well. It's not really me. So I let go of the script and write a new one again.   

Breathing Deeper

Beyond the incessant
And noisy chatter in my mind
There is a space of silence
That speaks so loudly
In its brilliant vibrancy
Of color and vibrations and love

It is here that my heart
Truly resides
Where I truly exist

The other
Is just distractions
Taking my breath away
So I focus on the not
Instead of the yes
And when I breathe deeper
Into this
I remember who I really am

The other
Is like a navigator
Insisting on the road I must take
Instead of trusting myself
That the road doesn’t exist
For roads are paved by man
But journeys are written by the heart

Breathe deep within the journey
For without it
We are lost
Following a curriculum
Meant for the past
And missing our point

Friday, February 3, 2012

Perfectionism is Broken

Great transformations really do begin within. Like taking negative thoughts, feelings, experiences and turning them into poetic works of art. Ok, so maybe these won't be in an English Major's Anthology of Great American Classics-yet-they are works of art nonetheless. They are created from nothing, really, an expression and creation like a Divine Spark. My negative thoughts are like the murky waters that birth the beautiful Dragonfly. The ashes from which the Phoenix rises. The fertile soil from the compost of my mind.

I really do just sit down and write these. A thought or phrase comes to mind-or an image or a feeling-and I just write. It is like free-form writing (which I am a great fan of) however, I want to transform it in the process rather than burn it afterwards. I want to see the beauty and gift from each thought so I can learn to see each moment-including myself in each moment-in its beauty and gift. Call it my optimism microwave.

A smart girl like you should be perfect

A chill
And a burn
The icy hot
Swell that rises
From deep within
Like a hot shower
On a cold, naked body
An automatic response
To responding automatically
From stories and fables
Which scold
My inner psyche
Defensive wounds
Leaving me defensive
And unaware
That I have been fighting
For so long

Until I realize
That my codependence
Has been protecting me
From my shame
Of failing to be perfect
Like I was told to be
Through statements of
How could you?
How dare you?
You should
Know better
Be better
Act better
Protect better
Look better
Smell better
Think better
Dress better
Write better
Hear better
Behave better
Be louder
Be quieter
Be more active
Be more still
Because you should
A smart girl like you
Should be perfect

So you don’t make me
Look at myself
My own imperfections
And failures
And mistakes
Carry them for me
You should be strong enough
For everyone
And don’t blame me
If you are wounded
Because you should
Have known better

Thursday, February 2, 2012

I Love My Mirror

Today's posting of my spontaneous poem is about learning to love. And the mirrors that are set up in relationships. 

Recently, I have just seen clearly my codependent ways. (cringe!) I think I was co-dependently protecting myself from it. I just thought I was being nice and loving and helpful. I didn't want to hurt anybody. I thought codependents were the ones who did drugs because the other person did, or robbed a bank to pay for it. I didn't get the whole "robbing my own soul for the sake of others" part of it all. I didn't get the damage and toll living a life like this took on me. I thought I was just a giver: the non-bitchy, easy going, I'll take care of you, low maintenance, whatever you want, how can I please you and make it all better, I won't get angry in front of you-I'll just go cry in the shower, or eat a pint of ice cream (or my fingernails) kind of gal. I would always know what to say but I didn't really know how to do it myself, for myself. I put on a great show. Or at least a great showing. Until I couldn't anymore. (More on that later!)     

I cannot be
Your savior
Your crutch
Your excuse
Your reason
Your justification
Your demise
Your healer
Your doormat
Your thorn
Your do-over
Your hero
Because I am mine
I can be
Your mirror
To show you

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Beginning Somewhere

With so much to say, it's hard to know where to begin! For me, tonight, the important thing is that I begin. Big steps happening here! For any beginning is a big step.

I've started writing a spontaneous poem each night. What is a spontaneous poem, you ask? It's a poem that I simply begin with one word, image, or phrase and let it spontaneously flow. It was a spontaneous decision that I made a few nights ago-I finally decided to let my resident and wonderful muse back in the house. I guess I kicked her out a few years ago playing "tough love" or something. It wasn't her I was "tough loving", it was me. I went through a phase where loving myself was really tough (like my whole life!). Loving others-that was easy! Loving myself-heck! even liking myself-now, that was tough! It's amazing how being bred to be such a "people-pleaser" it was so challenging to remember that I, too, was a people and I deserved to be pleased, respected, liked, have nice things done for me by me just as much as strangers, friends, family, boyfriends, ex-boyfriends, you name it, did.  

So here is my first step. My first Spontaneous Poem. I know there is lots more to come. And for now, I am pleased.

These leaps of faith
Are like gulps of breath
Taken the moment before
You find yourself
Tumbling in the sandy waters
Of waves while riding
On a Boogie Board
Hearing the murmurs
Of the laughter and voices
Above you
Realizing that your best friend
Has ridden the wave in as well
Only to beach herself above you
Laughing at the wild ride
Unaware that you are sandwiched
Between the boards beneath her
Fearful that you will drown
In the unknown
That no one will hear you
Or know that you are even there
And while she is celebrating the joy
You are panicking
To the blaring deafness
Of faith
Then it is there
As if it never happened
The only evidence
Is the sand pile in the lining of 
Your swimsuit crotch.