eventually it will come. the righteous darkness, seeking redemption and revenge. how dare we be happy? even in our flawed humanity? even with apology and remorse?

the way i see it, we always have a choice. to know our shadow. to tell it or to withold it. to use it as ammunition or to protect it. to twist it, to churn it, to allow it to rise. to transcend or to fall in.

i was born with the ability to see. i understand the vulnerable and wounded. i understand the crazy and the broken. i understand the contradictions and the shades of grey. i understand how we can defy our own goodness, how we can act to destroy the precious, because we do not believe we are worthy of it.

there is burden for the one who understands. how i have wished at times that i could see it all in harsh polarities and to place blame in absolutes.
but my strength is in my capacity for expanded viewpoints. my freedom is in knowing what is beyond.
and it is from here that i will respond when an arrow is shot at me.
it is from here that i will remember what is real.
it is from here that i will continue to choose love, and all that is holy.

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase “each other” doesn’t make any sense.
~Rumi

i am most comfortable in the true grit. in the silt and sulphur, warm and real and pungent. i am completely at ease with your blood and your tears.  i feel safe in the company of those with dirt under their fingernails and secrets on their tongues. i am sensitive, raw, layered, capable, and receptive.

having been on the receiving end of painful language yesterday, it has taken hours into days to move through the impact of being spoken to harshly and with the intent to hurt. we all wind up here, in the entanglement of our emotions and our cumulative pain. it is an inevitable result of our merging stories and our humanity. we are wired to protect and to defend. and still, it is the softness, the vulnerable between the sternum and the spine, that i long to connect with–our sweetness, our common, our understanding. this is what i will mine for, even through the discomfort of an experience of being wronged, accused, and violated.

i believe in inherent goodness. in best intentions and in truth and love. i believe in forgiveness and also in protection. i do not want to run from any situation that triggers discomfort. but i also know when it is time to step back, to be quiet, to feel, and reflect. under the blanket of fog and silence this morning, i am remembering who i am.

and who i am is as vast and as small as any other. as young and as old. as sensitive and as solid. i am permeable, layered, and weighted to this earth–doing the best i can to stay present, grounded, here. and to see you, really see you, as the same.

The purpose of this journey is to find the voice of the deeper wisdom, the one not connected to the rational voice that keeps throwing up the ‘ifs’.
~marion woodman

i have a fondness for whites. for water, for wood, and cinnamon. i like it rustic, refined, welcoming, earthy, and clean.

as i spend more time living in my home, collecting and layering, i find that these truths of myself, my style, are becoming so much more evident.

i am visual, textural, sensory. striving for simplicity, few words, and a universe of seeing and feeling.

we long to be–
that happy
in the heaven of earth–
that wild, that loving.
~mary oliver

photos: all iphone, all the time. instagram: @doorwaystraveler

i find myself sometimes avoiding beauty. i don’t want to be tempted, because surely i cannot have it.

the abundant, the lush, the easy, the boundless, the garden party, the salt-water pool, and the tropical holiday–clearly that belongs to someone else.

i am awake to the trance. the phobia and the scarcity. the scraping by and the shame. the second helping of sweet before it disappears forever.

i  simultaneously sit in gratitude and grace, while hungering and yearning for more. still maintaining an awareness of those that have so much less.

i look at my clean sheets, my full pantry, and my stack of unpaid bills. my 80 year old home with the self-consciously large yard.

i sit on the line of debt and greed. an open book of wanting and having. here and there.

what would it mean to leave this habit? to let go of the language of less-than and too-much? to invite you over despite the lack of garden furniture? could we just sit on a blanket?

can i have the simple loaf of bread, the humble cottage, and the daily walk to the pond? the boat in morocco? the spring break with hammocks and pineapple? the dusty floor and spiced tea? the scent of burning trash and plumeria blossoms? unlimited air miles and a sofa with forty-two inch deep cushions? a week of silence on a mountain top?

the forbidden, the enviable, the impossible bloom. self and other. imposter and real deal. confusion and clarity. illusion and reality. imbalance and equanimity. irony and indulgence.

these are the things i think about this morning. the weight on my shoulders and the pinch in my gut. the burdens i will lay down after i drink my coffee, check facebook, and remind myself to breathe.