at times, i think i might die of poignancy. the bird that flew into my home the other day, looked me in the eye, and left peacefully. the layers of soundtracks and verses. the “chance” meetings that continue to happen, unsettling and exquisite all at once. the brush of wind on my inner arm. the visitors in my dreams. the hunger and madness i see everywhere.

i crave eye contact and whispers. new memories. light.

i want to laugh and to stop trying to be good.

i wonder how i am perceived. my expressionless face presumed stern, hard-lined, tough.

when really i am all water and warm soil. a lot of moon. a little mercury and spit. blood orange, pepper, and sweet rasmalai.

my body feels more lean. sensual. soft. tired.

travel. anywhere. leaving yesterday. what i wouldn’t give to be above the clouds heading somewhere where the narrator isn’t.

the battle is waning, if from nothing more than wearing out the rations. my heart is tucked in tenderly, after narrowly escaping the knife’s tip. massive blood loss. the chest wound is now sutured loosely with golden thread. at least that’s what it feels like.

i should probably eat breakfast.

i can’t forget to bring my daughter lunch today. and make her doctor’s appointment.

tomorrow is International Women’s Day. i’ll be on a small bridge in good company. you should, too.

Speaking of good company, I’m looking forward to Liesel’s free call tomorrow night. (sign-up. NOW.)

it is a choice. always. to feel joy. to be free.

this one really got me:

Sober up,
Steady your aim,
Reach in,
Turn the Universe and
The Beautiful Rascal,
Inside out.
~ Hafiz

today, i actually like the wind.

and i don’t care that my favorite cashmere sweater has holes under the arms.

at the end of it all, a good shake-down always holds the potential for perspective. and awakening.

for that, i am honestly, unshakably, grateful.

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?)

i wish for all i want.

i want the deepest experience of love. i want my body to be strong. i want my mind to be sharp. i want to be surrounded by beauty. i want to sink into moments of simplicity. i want grand adventures. i want newness everyday. i want the comfort of the old and known. i want the means to fuel my passions and my family's passions and your passions and the passions of those who haven't had the chance to consider their passions. i want the tools to advance my craft. i want opportunities to connect and plane tickets and shared cups of  tea on dusty rugs in the middle of nowhere. i want a well seasoned home cooked meal. i want lanterns everywhere, especially above where i dream. i want my children to know the world. and to feel safe in it.  i want wool and silk and hand-stitching. i want throaty songs and campfires. i want wet, mineral rich soil and leaves and hot desert breezes. i want laughter so full it is silent. and bells. fermenting grapes. plaster and brick. wide old-wood planks and soft buttery leather. i want words and images that capture truth. i want the brightest blues and the warmest browns. infinite white and stars on the darkest night. i want loons calling and elephants trumpeting. i want growling and sighing. i want richness and vastness. i want warm waters and glaciers so big they glow aqua from far away. i want clouds that blow like lazy smoke and eyes that gaze back and tell stories. i want hands that hold and arms that don't hesitate to embrace.  i want salty sea and sunbursts. citrus, persimmon, and curry.  intricate inlay and gentle archways. i want half-moon in full expression. and a cracked-open heart turned up toward the possible. 

i want a life so full it's beyond what my mind can think of wanting.

i wish for abundance in every vivid detail.

and i believe i can have it. 

(so can you)