Running Out of Steam

The more I sweat it out, the better I feel.

The more I work it out, the better I feel.

The more I write it down, the better I feel.

The deeper I feel, the quicker I empathize.

The deeper I feel, the less ego I posses.

The deeper I feel, the less I defend.

I’m realizing now, I’ve made it all about me.

I’m realizing now, my own selfishness.

I’m realizing now, the plank is in my own eye.

There is no way out, until the end.

There is no way out, until you quit.

There is no way out, infinite cycles.

I’m running out of steam, time for a rest.

I’m running out of steam, time for a change.

I’m running out of steam,

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Permission Granted

I’m totally not sure how things go from here, with so many people counting on me, expecting me to always be the thing I am most of the time.

Is it pride or ego to defend my decisions? Is there a right way to live? Isn’t effort enough?

A quote rings in my head, “There is no try, only DO”.

But that just means the choice I made, is what it was, and nothing else.

Who else should I ask before I act? Is my own reason not enough? Is my own life not worthy, that I can call my own shots?

The Buddha whispers to me “breathe in, feel. breath out, share”.

Your pain is what I feel, and there is no TRUTH beyond what you and I say.

I Can Feel

I can feel the upswing coming

I can feel the upswing coming and I can feel myself holding my breath

I can feel myself holding my breath and I can see the good coming to me

I can see the good coming to me and I constantly remind myself to stay humble

I constantly remind myself to stay humble and I hear my inner critic push back

I hear my inner critic push back, and I remind myself to stay humble

I remind myself to stay humble and I can see the good coming to me

I can see the good coming to me and I can feel myself learning to breathe

I can feel myself learning to breathe and I can feel the upswing coming

I can feel the upswing coming

Under Red Light

Why is it ironic for me to find solace in chaos?

what does it mean that I find my inner quiet, surrounded by all the noise?

Is it odd my pen flows freely when I don’t need to stop and think.

But, then I remember I’m just warming up.

I love the way red light reveals just enough humanity to keep us all honest.

These nights, I’m grateful for time to myself, I’m grateful for the autonomy and freedom to be her and let my mind wander.

The occasional clarity I find in places like this make me think of other rituals performed by firelight, a reminder hidden deep in the core of my brain.

Rhythm  and chanting draw my mind open, give a break to the stream of data constantly running through my mind.

9/11

Not considering the past,

but remembering with tear-filled eyes.

There are things I must do to live,

Breathe, move, feed, fight, fuck.

Not too much has changed, and the Universe around me remains in flux.

What is it we look back on?

Our fear, our loss, our anger, our war?

“Do you remember where you were when…?”

Do you remember how the world was?

Energy Cannot Be Destroyed

Understanding that nothing really ends

knowing that my choice was authentic

doing the math, solving the equation, even if I may not like the answer

harnessing my grief, working it out

allowing what I feel to flow through me

channeling my hurt to move, even if I might not like where I go.

Believing all things are progressive

understanding that nothing really ends

knowing that my choice was authentic, even if it didn’t keep us together