Monday, November 30, 2015


There was a time in my life when I held fast to the absolutely rigid thoughts based on what I believed life should be for me, meaning: I was owed something.

Tainted by my own mess, I had just cause to feel numb, unsure and insolent toward life, and I kept trying to bleed a bit more into a vial that couldn’t be filled. It soon became evident that clinging to resentment was too hard, and my results were more than redundant, cold and tiresome.

Something had to give… that something was me.

My stubbornness and excuses kept me in a downward spiral. I finally got to a point where it didn’t make sense anymore, and I was exhausted trying to live up to my own bane.

I could feel my heart wanting to take the leap, but the past placed trust at an incredibly unreachable distance, as it had been broken so many times before. I was guarded, weary, and meticulously slow in opening the door to jump — yet for some reason I did.

It must have been the little glimpses of tangible love taunting my being. They were persistent, they were bold, and they pissed me off. They would show when I needed them the most, but my head was too warped in my filthy ego and mired with the thoughts of no credible relevance. I just couldn’t believe I deserved anything else.

Then something snapped.

I don’t remember why, but I do remember the feeling. And so it is in life, the whysand the details are often buried, yet all of a sudden, I realized a softer me — and I liked it.

Perhaps pushing down all the nasties — blame, shame and guilt — for things beyond my control finally came to a head. Perhaps I got to a point where it’s no fun anymore and a thousand apologies couldn’t even begin to cover the emotions.

I may or may not ever know the real catalyst, but for now it isn’t important. What is pertinent, true and real is acceptance. The Savior of all Saviors, the God-self of forgiveness, the path to getting un-f*cked begins and ends there. Everything in between is just fluff.

Change takes time and acceptance, and it works on us in many unseen ways. The key is to surrender, to find it, and unlock that closed mind. We have to get over ourselves and into our liquid heart.

I promise, flow happens when we melt.

And when we dissolve into surrender, there is alchemy in the mind, in the body and in the soul. When you are here, give alms for the moment to happen — the experience is an act of pure synergy.

It is the art of letting yesterday be just that, with no thought of tomorrow. Then we are released from the things that take us out and down.

A time to cede, a time of peace, and more than enough time to accept where we are, who we are, and be good with it.

Not to give up, but give in. Not to quit, but to pause and dissolve the mental hopscotch that messes us up — thinking, forever thinking…

Remember, there are some situations that just need you to be still.

And when we reach inside, gently manipulate the little uglies that prance around our head like giggling imps in our garden, and signal to these thoughts that they are no longer needed or necessary.

We can rise into the sublime, fold into reverence, and drink up the lull in our day.

When we melt, we are fluid, as the tears roll, shed and shine. A much needed ejection will pour liquid diamonds. The skin will moisten, our presence will soften, and the outlook will be viable and supple. The gems are rare, the wisdom is fierce, and the knowledge is there for the taking.

All the trite becomes evanescent; all the damage begins to repair — into a place of healing, love and sweet surrender.

I promise, we flow when we melt.

Many thanks to Rebelle Society

Saturday, November 28, 2015


A flood of memories, 
the silent skies, the silent streets, 
a distant song and subdued faces will forever haunt - perhaps that is a part of the gig. 
The thoughts are so vivid even the ill-feeling in the pit of stomach is present (once again) 
and after all the disbelief and shock, 
the internal lion roars out of nowhere.
(I think) until resolved, we are supposed to remember but how soon we forget. 
The unsettled comes in furious and agitated
with no recourse or substitute – and we regress. 
Laden with sorrow or guilt 
what kind of sullen trick do we play with our heads, our hearts and our souls?
It doesn’t have to be this way…
Use forgiveness.
There is no going back
no changing the unchangeable.
Some things are meant to stay, but if it hurts so badly and there is nothing left to learn – 
we must forgive and let go. 
Staying in pain takes a huge commitment.
releasing is an act of the fearlessness 
and that is a memory we all have, 

In silent skies, empty streets and a distant song. (dl)

Monday, November 23, 2015


Are you struggling with the holidaze and their meanings? You are not alone. Every year my disdain for the season grows. The hypocrisy, the money, the ever-present wants and obligations - and to fulfill them all…..

Big sigh.

It is no secret that the retailers are ramping up the holiday campaign earlier and earlier to grab our hard earned money (the all mighty dollar.) They bombard us with sparkling guilt, the snow filled promise of a better day, and puppy-eyed life changing happiness around a story (a story that I personally believe Is, just a story) and they laugh all the way to the bank.

But we all (myself included of course) begin to trudge through month after month of cosmic materialism. I use the term “cosmic” because the advertising manifests their way into everything and every aspect of our viable life, beginning in late September.

The ads somehow tap our veins, gets into our minds, and seduces us via twinkling ice icicles, peppermint mochas, and the (devil of them all) shopping.

Try as I might to ignore it – I get sucked in and it all enters my head to the breaking point, and then I get pissed at myself. I just haven’t figured out how to tiptoe around it – so I don’t. This upsets my family a bit, but my adamant stance against it never fails to ignite a fire (no apologies.) And they say, “You used to LOVE this time of year, what happened?”

A lot happened, but I will save you the bloody details and just say I lost my passion for a Holiday lost in translation.

What I want to share instead of ranting more on this is: Turning the revolt back into something special true and tangible, begins and ends outside of the content attached to the season. We can dig into our hearts instead of our pockets all year round - the needy are not just needy this time of year. The unfortunate children want so very little. The simplest of things that go beyond the coin (that we all take for granted) include a smile, a hug, a warm coat, shoes without holes, a new comb, or 3 meals a day…

It is heart wrenching to know how much pain exists in our own back yard.

The most amazing thing is to witness the extreme graciousness in the homeless, the tired, the young, elderly and the desperate that live with nothing - yet have everything when it comes to simplicity of the heart. Spend a little time with these souls and it is life changing (to say the least.)

Does it solve the problems? NO – Will Oct- through Jan be less commercialized? NO. But we can all numb it out and go full throttle with a bigger campaign inside our hearts to help out instead of obligatory shopping.

It feels kinda right…

I started a few traditions with my family that I would like to share –

* We make goody bags of fruit, warm hats, gloves, and basic hygiene products and give them out all year long. (The Dollar Tree is a great resource to fill the bags without breaking your wallet)

* My favorite “donation site” is KIVA – Loans that change lives ( – you find someone in need, give them a loan and they work to pay you back. Once you have been re-paid, you can do another loan. The money recycles and a little goes a very long way

* The Giving Tree – pick (from the tree) simple requests children have made and fulfill them. Take your Kleenex; it is a tough one to read the wants some of the angel have.

* Find the shelters that need your donations all year round instead of “good willing” – Your local Church is a great resource.

* Donate time (if possible) instead lieu of money. Libraries, Nursing Homes, local schools, Churches etc. they all can use extra help all year long.

Giving certainly ignites this time of year, but dwindles after the New Year however kindness and giving isn’t seasonal. Keeping the “Spirit of the Season” alive beyond a few months really helps to cast a gentler view on the mass commercialism and opens up what is truly important. It also lessens the assault and the burden of materialism forced upon us all.

So as I breathe this all in, I settle a bit and go back to the magic and the reality of what this time of year holds – The ultimate irony of so much sadness and so much joy condensed 3-fold as the holidaze climb into our tears and out of our wallets.

The good, the bad and a child was born – Santa (St. Nick) is watching and the meek shall inherit the earth. (dl)

Tuesday, November 17, 2015


Problems will intensify when we don't act on what we truly know and feel...

Oh how I get restless with the urge to run, even though I am a homebound rooted soul.  And I was told once, "That is a problem" but I couldn't get into that theory - sometimes, we just have to fly. 

Like so many, I don't do well in a lot of noise or a frantic pace so to pacify the edge I need to resonate with the sounds that soothe us naturally; nature’s sounds - or no sounds at all, but to get there can be tricky – this is what I do…

When the yen to escape is looming, go inside your creative excuses to be invisible - there is a whole world you can tap into.  It is that momentary gap one foot in reality, and the other somewhere else. This is like a "meditative state." It is the place where we can hear the whisper of the beating heart and the sound of nothing - surrounded by nothing. This is the intuitive juices rush through our veins to simply say…. breathe; and in an automatic response, we breathe.

Free to go nowhere and everywhere we lightly rise. 
Imagine the gentle warmth of the thermal…This is it. 
The freedom of our spirit - let it soar. 
Listen to the sound of your soul. (dl)

Monday, November 16, 2015


The hardest thing about peace is: Our world (our nature - Nature itself in it's most primal sense) is as violent as it is beautiful... We have to reach deeply and soulfully inside ourselves to accept this. I am not there - yet 

And life goes on.  But at the end of the day we all have the capability to dabble in our delicacies, our vulnerability, and our knowing to make a conscious decision as to how we hold compassion for the utmost horrific acts that happen on a daily basis.

This isn’t just religious; it is global violence via poverty, hunger, and ignorance that takes innocent lives off the map and it happens in every corner of the world. 

The way to create peace is to make peace with the dark side, and as cliché as that statement is; it is the only way to resolve our bleeding hearts.  The problems are so embedded in upheaval as the lost souls are dying (literally) to have some kind of revolution.  This is the biggest plea for help we have ever encountered, and it is happening right now.

The mindset of our angry society is – “There is nothing to lose, no one cares.”

There are thousands upon thousands that are affected by the negative energy and hundreds of thousand more who want just want to STOP THE MADNESS.
What a concept – What do we do?

Candles? Prayer? A call to action, and not words? 

We seem to be powerless against the machine.  I go back to the dark side, even my own heart has malice for killing in the name of ________ (you fill in the blank) but an eye for an eye only leaves us blind.  So when I consider the origin, and I begin to compare and contrast our humanness with the sun rise and sun set I see that: To take in the beauty of the sky (that holds so much mystery) we have to take in the understanding that is also has the power to destroy is in us all. 

To be peace, to be love, we have know - that the “duality” of life is our bane. 
This doesn’t mean we accept the unthinkable, but accept that at each end of the spectrum, life recycles and karma takes care of itself.  I know in my body, in my blood, in my heart love will heal our broken ways when we let it. 

And I wrote a piece this AM to the kindred tribe of the hurting

There has to be another way

Rally internally to
raise the vibration
to change the conversation because hate is what the haters want – don’t give it to them
Hold vigil in your heart
to clean intentions, clear thought, as love truly rules…
This is far from over
And on wounded soil bloodlines run deep
We feel it
We know it
There has to be another way….

Sunday, November 15, 2015


The beauty of being lost is we get to find our self again….

That is the joy and sorrow of our inward journey. Everything we thought we knew changes, transforms, breaks and expands and we can greet it with wonder, or dismiss it. But standing at the edge of a long fall is intimidating – not death itself, but the excruciating pain that comes to us when we break.

So where is the edge? Is rock bottom the catalyst for change? Searching, grinding it out, the tears can fill a river and we keep on looking. We look everywhere – high and low. We long for guidance and the easy way out yet nothing is easy when we are desperate.

But the truth of what we all long for is in our face and we all inherently know this..
Like it or not – it is the fear and loathing that separate us, and it is not in the only in the mirror; it is our in our eyes in our heart, in our soul.  Anything less than our truth that we try to justify and cling to won’t stay, as in all things, a choking grip will simply kill us - it is only in release that we can heal.

Yet a higher or more advanced soul will concur that to die is what is needed.
Then all the judgment is gone, the fear is gone and the option to re-do is there, how easy that sounds – but it isn’t.

Once again we need to be mended, caressed and put back together. It is a process, a never-ending process but inch by inch, coming full circle out of the past and back familiar ground is a comfort – resting momentarily in reflection. 

The question is: Did you actually find reprieve in the fall or did something else cradle your misery? When you come out of the dark night of the soul, does it have meaning or is it just a place of light where our shadow is hiding?  Look closely at the answer…

What happens in the quest is hard to articulate. But after a while the longing begins to subside and acceptance makes its way home to take its proper stance.
And all that you thought was out there waiting suddenly fills every inch of your being reminding us that the closer we get to spirit, the less we need and lost was a place, once upon a time – fragile, messy and chaotic.

Welcome home. (dl)

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

A Love Note to My Daughter.

If there was ever a time when I needed you, it is now—but, I can’t say it.

I take a big inhalation and push that need into a different part of my day and carry on.

You breathe out and I breathe in your air; given, taken, reused, refused and revived, but you don’t notice.

This is about the ever so slightest separation of time and space between us, and then locating what stands in the middle of our presence: strong, unassuming and real. I ask, “Where is the void, the push and pull and the song?”

We are as far away from the snow melt, and as close as the leaves coming back to the tree to breed new life and you seem untouched by it all; yet that is so wrong, so terribly wrong and untrue. However, it is your gesture of the nonchalant held in your eyes that is deceiving, until I really look at the pools of emotion you try to hide.
It is an odd thing you do…

That smile is so transparent as you try to cover up what stirs you to tears, or drops you to your knees even when you are standing tall. I want to whisper in your ear and tell you it is okay, there is no shame, and you are loved beyond words—but you won’t hear me.

So I lean in, gently touch your brow, move my hand into yours and we sit quietly. No words, no noise, no reason. We are good like that. I am speaking to you in my mind and my heart. Then without hesitation you softly squeeze my uncertainty with the intention of “I understand.”

Pride reigns in your courage, yet holds you in chains. I wish you could see your beauty, your power, and your light. Yet that is just me, needing you to unfold.

This is a bit selfish, and hard; a truth, but I love you more than any sentence structure, more than words—it is just too hard to articulate.

With the nod of the head and a simple sigh, you are not my baby anymore.

We used to say sky and back and now what I can tell is, that the sky is truly not big enough. (dl)