Just talking about it helps...

If you really know me, you know that I am an extremely deep, sensitive, and spiritual individual. I think with my heart, at all times. I wear it on my sleeve, for all to see, touch, hear. I want to love and to be loved. I want to be happy, and to help others find happiness. This blog is really a way for me to get out all of these feelings I have inside, to maybe show others that they are not alone and connect with them on a very personal level. If no connection happens, and those of you that read this can't really understand where I am coming from, that's alright too. The important thing here is that I am in search of my own soul, I want to put my inner feelings into words so that I may be able to find an inner peace. That peace you read about in novels, you know, the great book with the sob story that ends in the lead character accepting themselves and becoming triumphant in life, love, and happiness. Don't we all want this though? We all long for a connection. We search for this connection in religion, friendships, lovers, our children, everything. My mom put it perfectly to me during one of our frequent mid-morning chats over the phone and our morning coffee. She said she see's us all like the tree of souls in Avatar, every human in life connected. Each one of us deeply rooted and intertwined together, just like the roots of that tree, and everyone of us make up the world as we know it. It's why we crave connection, it's what we were created to do. 


My mom wrote the following poem about me when I was almost 15 (and a blonde mind you), an inexperienced little thing. I love reading it. My mother is such an amazing writer and can capture emotions so vividly and in such a poetic way. I want to share it because it shows how deeply passionate and sensitive I have been all of my life, which I know I get from her. My best friend, my lovely mama. She really gets me I believe, how lucky I am!


Say Nothing


She comes to me today
Sits with me at the computer
Lays her sweet blonde head
Against my arm and cries
I don't know what's wrong
She says, her swimming eyes
Fixed on some invisible point
Beyond the edge of the desk
Can't sleep at night, she says
Feel dead inside, she says
Right here! clinched fist pressed
Into the hollow between
And just below her breast
The paleness of the skin
Contrasting with the blood
Blood red of her shirt and
I sit for a moment, watching 
The blue veins of her hand
Mesmerized, almost, by their
Striking appearance beneath
The smooth, translucent wrap
But she pulls her hand away
Looks to me with blue-gray eyes
The very same eyes that stared
At me on the day she was born
Cuddling into my chest
Radiating love from every
Pore in her newborn body
Warming me from head to toe
Filling me with wonder-love
Now looking to me with
Questions I cannot answer
Darling, the past six months. . . .
Honey, when Lacey died. . . .
Baby, your sisters left home. . .
Sweetie, boyfriends fade away. . .
What do I say, say everything
Tell her not to fight it
Tell her to go with it
Advise her like the
Seasoned pro that I am
Brush her hair away from her cheek
Tuck long smooth strands
Behind her ear, marvel at the
Swirl of downy white hair
At the nape of her neck
And try not to cry. . .
Please, God, don't let her see me cry
Say nothing, nothing at all
I feel better now, she says
Just talking about it helps, she says
I nod, nod, somewhat relieved
Good! I say, with enthusiasm
I don't quite feel, remaining
Cautious, always cautious
Knowing anything is possible
Knowing life will steal the
Light from the brightest
Of the bluest-gray eyes
If they are left to swim alone


For Jessica
November 5, 2002