could you tell me what you want? you. the one reading this. could you tell me?

so much of what i am hashing through right now is wound tightly with words like entitlement and deserving. i wonder, are you able to ask for what you want? ask and not feel embarassed? ask and not feel ashamed? indebted? ridiculous? greedy? needy? absurd and three years old?

do you preface your wants with “i know i don’t need this” or somehow devalue your desire?

my wanting wound is healing. granulating from the bottom up. but for now it is open. exposed. at risk for infection. needing to be kept clean and irrigated; and packed with clean, soft dressings.

the healer who played me songs (songs she knew i needed to hear and knew that i knew, without knowing, you know?) she asked me to start keeping a desire journal. a place to write down the wanting as it speaks. as i find the strong voice to speak it.

and so i thought, what better place to begin than here?

(present moment) desire list:

~chocolate

~happiness. the levity kind.

~a more comfortable chair at my desk.

~a massage. the no-elbows, but still strong, gentle kind.

~company. the cozy, easy kind.

~tea. the spicy, gingery kind.

~to be in morocco or india, sitting on a comfortable daybed. with a cashmere throw, lantern light, and someone playing the guitar. after the massage. and with the company and tea.

~to feel settled. risen. light.

~sleep. hours and hours of sleep.

~a planned vacation. somewhere warm. with water (the salty kind).

~my body strong and lean to best enjoy such a vacation.

~nothing to do.

~everything to do.

~a white sofa

~to sell everything and to live in a cave like the guy i saw in matala, crete, many years ago.

~a hot tub.

~a really big life where all these random moment wants are just the inkling of possible. a life that holds my bigness and one created and maintained by my connection with who i am. a life fueled by connection, beauty, and grace. a life that shows my children how very vital it is to know what they want. and that they deserve ALL of it. even the chocolate. but mostly the happiness.

(that was fun. i think i will try it again tomorrow. now, really, will you tell me what you want?)

uzbek suzani, from apartment therapy

i sit with the will to write and realize that i've got nothing to grab onto. no stories to tell or witty references to make. just morning gazing on a soft chaise lounge with wispy tendrils of consciousness drifting through an otherwise quiet mind. my thoughts are of  farmer's market strolls and elliptical dreams. hummingbirds at my window and my yoga mat. piles of pennies on the table being painstakingly counted to pay for travels to far far away and for children that need to be fed. a body that craves endurance and sweat. and some new shoes. books that are speaking to me and movies that make painful sense. yearnings for adventure and stability in unison. tenderness and gratitude for all that is right now. something intangible that is busting forth, flowering and finding home deep within me. curiosity about capital letters and proper grammar and whether or not i should let on that i do, in fact, know how to use both. flowers for my altar and chia seeds in my breakfast drink. an itch for a new sofa and a vintage suzani on my bed.

a child to wake up and running shoes to put on. 

the last sip of coffee.

slowly and sleepy, i am making my way into this foggy, obscure and possible day. 

my daughter, with children from the Yayasan Widya Guna, Bedulu, Bali, August 2008

made rai, bedulu, bali, august 2008

my son with children from the Yayasan Widya Guna, Bedulu, Bali, august 2008