soulmates

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Ah. You know those weekends that feel like 4 days rolled into one? The weekends you just want to keep living in? Nothing like an impromptu best friends trip to Boston to make you feel grateful and free.

We drove ourselves up to Boston to witness the ever beautiful Kathleen Breen Combes retire from the stage. With this bittersweet bow comes an exciting new chapter, as Kathleen will become FBP’s Executive Director in the fall! Feeling so excited to have such a powerful role model coming our way, and a wonderful, welcomed addition to the FBP family, of course.

 

And now, some thoughts from the weekend…

There are parts of yourself that you can’t find reflected in the bubbled bottom of a bottle of wine, or the ice chips squeezing final sips of diluted gin. They are not in the wrinkled petals of your favorite flower, nor are they looking up at you from the intricate tiles of a trendy café floor. Don’t look for these bits of you in the mirror- not even a peculiar room with entirely mirrored walls and amber shells- your questions will be as if unheard. Turn instead to your friends. In unrelenting laughter that rolls from your belly and bursts from your lips, in words never spoken but exchanged through subtle movements in brows, in tears caught before they leave your cheeks. In the strange desire to eat, drink, walk, sit, talk, the same things at the same time. Every time. This is where your essence lives, where your spirit rests, where you are truly whole. Soulmates, they come in so many forms.

surprising

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I don’t know yet what I don’t know, but I do know this: Everyone ever will always surprise you eventually.

It won’t happen at every turn, and it won’t always happen when you least expect it. Sometimes it will be completely out of the blue, sometimes it will confirm a lingering suspicion, but this premonition won’t make your surprise any less, well, surprising.

As humans, we like to put people into neat little boxes. He’s a “bro.” She is “good.” He’s an artist, so he will never be truly emotionally available; She never met her father, so she will always feel damaged. We put people in boxes, on shelves, in tidy compartments with classifications and we predict their futures by reading into their pasts. But the catastrophe of shock is certain, because there is no instruction manual for the human existence.

I’ve spent the past 4 years contemplating the existence of a higher power, but regardless of this inconclusive search, it seems that each life is composed of a series of decisions. Whether these decisions lead to actions that “happen for a reason” or are completely random becomes irrelevant to this conversation, because it does not change the sole thesis that: Everyone ever will always surprise you eventually. And this includes you.

Often times our most surprising selves surface in the wake of shock caused by someone close to us. A person we think we know sets off a surprise chain with some “uncharacteristic” behavior and our reaction, our series of decisions in the cold, unrelenting wake of this surprise, can set a self-surprise into motion.

Of course, surprise doesn’t always come in the form of an action. Sometimes it comes early on, while semi-strangers are becoming friends. The casual reveal of an unexpected detail- something outside their tidy personality box- comes forward and scrambles our premature judgement. The classification conundrum.

In any and every case, though, people are surprising. And even in knowing this, you will be surprised. And that, my friends, is a beautiful promise.

pleased to meet you

 

Whats your name summer girl?
Will you stay until September comes?
And takes it’s sun from your blonde hair

Whose your type summer girl?
Who’ll hold you tight till the fall comes?
And your life takes you away

I remember seeing you
Before the summer sun touched your pale skin
And now you’re golden
And sitting round the fire with my friends

What’s your name summer girl?
Will you stay until September comes?
And your life takes you away

Whose your type summer girl?
Who’ll hold you tight till the fall comes?
And takes it’s sun from your blonde hair

All the lonely winter days

Crust and brake around like autumn waves
And Massachusetts Bays
And get cast out to sea and gone for good

Who’s your love?
Where will you go when September comes?
And brings your body back to him

Walk with me summer girl
Walk with me till the sun comes
And takes the night, our world, away

Summer Girl, Family of The Year

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to whom it may concern

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looking for advice?

please, let me advise.

might I suggest

you prioritize?

or better yet,

just reorganize

your values

your thoughts

your should

and should not’s

your stomach

“in knots”

your “can you please stop?” ‘s

now I’m changing the locks

and cutting mine, too

and all that was once so precious to you

it’s no longer yours

so when your heart pours

do not open my doors

do not beg on my floors

don’t show your heart’s halves

cleaved to have-not’s from have’s

you know, some scars surface

and some stay inside

but next time yours itches

remember, I tried

now leave me my pride

I’m changing the tide

not one tear left to cry

so hear this now:

goodbye.

rebirth

IMG_9221.JPGBeen a while since I felt this way about someone,
I’d really really like to know you, more,
Oh oh, know you, more

Oh, your eyes, they sing a song to me,
I’d really really like to go to it, oh, go, oh

And I will oh, open my heart
And I will oh, only for you

Only For You, Heartless Bastards

The reckoning.

A recognizing.

Recommended reintroducing.

A reentering of soul into changing body.

Changing mind, painting face.

Saving grace.

Erasing all trace.

Finding power in this space.

Hello, nice to meet you.

It’s me, we’ve met before.

But now I’m something more.

It’s hard to ignore.

The newness in us, myself and me.

Blooming into being.

Fruitful and all-seeing.

As we walk side by insides,

Rooted, yet free.

-12:14 on a Wednesday, Me, as a personal baptism begins

 

 

puddles of petals

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dripping red bikes so “JUMP”
so I do
into puddles of petals
blasting off nature’s confetti
and reigniting the celebration

I May march through a thin veil of rain
coat open it’s coating me
a darker shade of green
with every step

bloom, branch, blossom
exploding trees, creaky knees
reintroducing the birds to the bees
the green to the leaves
the warmth to the breeze
the you’s to the me’s…

spring wind

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Ah, a sunny Sunday spent spring cleaning before an evening show. Is there any better way to refresh and reset?

Life, man. It seems to wrack me with obstacles while I’m trudging through challenges and just when I think I might break, comforting words from an old favorite sing out, green air bursts through the windows, and I exhale.

I lived awhile without you,
Darn near half my life.
I no longer see our unborn children,
Born to you my unwed wife.
But yesterday I had a vision,
Beneath the tree where we once talked,
Of an old couple burning
Their love letters so their children
Won’t be shocked.

Love calls like the wild birds-
It’s another day.
A Spring wind blew my list of
Things to do…away.

My friends are gettin older,
So I guess I must be too.
Without their loving kindness,
I don’t know what I’d do.
Oh the wine bottle’s half empty-
The money’s all spent.
And we’re a cross between our parents
And hippies in a tent.

In a mucked up lovely river,
I cast my little fly.
I look at that river and smell it
And it makes me wanna cry.
Oh to clean our dirty planet,
Now there’s a noble wish,
And I’m puttin my shoulder to the wheel
’cause I wanna catch some fish.

-Jack Johnson, Spring Wind