enough to just be….

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I’ve been sick in my head,
a woozy, dopey sinus tantrum so stuffy and poundy
I want to fling myself across my cool bed
and never again turn my big honker upside down
to plant and prune and work the ground.
Yep,  my head feels like an enormous ham
and the rest of me is tired from hauling it around.

I didn’t share my fuzzy thoughts with you last week;
the words got mashed behind my nose
and wouldn’t drip or dribble out either.
I didn’t like that,  I missed you
and still my head still feels  stuffed with
gauze and bristle.

so I scooched back in my blog to some old stuff
and found something I love
from last year around this time
when I was also taking a pounding

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 overheating inside and melting down,
fear shaking me hard
and it so fits because when I get sick I get scared
(does that happen to you, too?)
it’s not cozy like when I taught;
I don’t get a substitute person now.

This is what whispered away the dark:
” wildflowers singing their wisdom from roadways and fields
took me in,
tugging at my trueness
….they know it’s their highest praise
just to be.”

oh yeah.
i tend to forget.

~deep grateful breath
that even tho’ I’m gimpy and undone and one raw mess,
it’s still plenty enough
just to be.

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Peace to you,  friend,  in all of your being.

“It’s the help you receive when you have no bright ideas left,
when you are empty and desperate and have discovered
that your best thinking and most charming charm
have failed you.
Grace is the light or electricity or juice or breeze
that takes you from that isolated place
and puts you where others are as startled and embarrassed
and eventually grateful as you are to be there.”

-Anne Lammott

of puddles and scars and turtles with wings

This week was
grumpy rumblings gnawing at my tummy
as I let go of gluten and sugar and everything creamy
in a gasp for more air,
lungs so hungry

and digging miles of hard ground,
body scrunched down low,
hundreds of plants tucked in ready
for growing joy

of hurry biting like a nervous dog,
overheating and melting down
fear puddling in the street.

while wildflowers singing wisdom from roadways and fields
took me in,
tugging at the trueness
….they know it’s their highest praise just to be

and hubby and I finding each other’s hands in it all

and shadows not gonna steal  my peace away,
heart going light and defiant
against  the roar of silent monsters
beneath the bed

and I’m grateful still
for tears and scars
and turtles with wings.

“You need more scars.  You need to live.”   -Julien Smith  (The Flinch)