Category Archives: Adoptee Artist

Piano One

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I’m slowly recovering from three years of burnout. Resting feels a bit like that maddening smoke alarm chirp — You know the batteries need changing, but you can’t figure out which damn alarm is sounding! Even rest feels strangely effortful — my nervous system translates stillness into threat. I used to tell my trauma clients that chronic restlessness and hypervigilance come from a hyperaroused nervous system, and any sound, interruption, or shift in the environment can register danger. Now, I’m living inside the very thing I taught others.

Yesterday morning, I had a doctor’s appointment. Actually, I’ve had multiple back-to-back medical appointments lately — all the things I’ve been putting off forever and am finally tending to. Not exactly a fun, restful time. The whole ordeal seemed to throw my day off, and I found it impossible to reconnect with my body afterward. So I forced, yes forced my way to the keyboard, and I sat and played for a couple of hours.

I purchased a used Korg D1 digital keyboard last weekend. Yesterday was the first day I played her since then. She’s absurdly heavy and currently occupies half my tiny kitchen. It felt a little heartbreaking to play, as I haven’t touched a piano in a long time. I started learning Human Nature by Michael Jackson and A Groovy Kind of Love by Phil Collins. The chord progressions were fairly easy to pick up.

I’m still waiting for an amp to arrive, since the only audio output right now is via headphones, which makes it difficult to listen closely to songs while figuring out chords. Still, it felt really good to sit at the keyboard again and improvise for a while. I tried not to be too self-critical. Eventually, I settled on learning Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence by Ryuichi Sakamoto. I have the sheet music. The piece is full of lush chords, sevenths, ninths, etc., larger than an octave that barely fit beneath my small hands, but I managed. It definitely needs practice; I’ll make a recording once the music feels more embodied.

I first heard Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence on the 1985 album, Piano One (Private Music-Japan) in college. The album quickly became a favorite that I listened to repeatedly. You must give it a listen! My favorite piece is The Housewife’s Song. I wasn’t able to find the album on Spotify, but came across it on YouTube, which I’ve linked below. As I write this post coffee in hand, I’m listening to it again. It brings me back to a younger version of myself — that dreamy, distant, always somewhere in the clouds girl.

While my digital keyboard is no baby grand, which I’m sadly trying to sell due to lack of space, it has a surprisingly rich sound for a digi instrument. It’ll have to do for now. I have two medical appointments today, inconveniently planted right in the middle of the freakin’ day, but I’ll find my way back to the keyboard after.

I’m trying to give myself permission to be exactly where I am — to slow down and enjoy playing simply for the sake of playing. It’s so easy for me to slip back into that performance mindset, obsessing over every phrase, nuance, breath, wanting each note polished, perfect. Jeez, it’s really hard not to be a perfectionist…

Deep to Deep

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I kept forgetting your name
and each time, you patiently reminded me
in that quiet, gentle manner of yours,
your smile held the softness of
someone who’d seen it all.

There was more to you, to your story,
a depth that echoed pain
and made me curious,
pulled at me.

The sadness in your eyes
mirrored my own, deep to deep,
like hunger burning to be witnessed.

And the guarded parts of me opened;
I wanted to ease that ache,
and in easing your ache,
mine was also honored.

May my affection find you
when you most need it,
around and around and back home again,
to a place where you feel most loved.

—A Sunday morning poem about someone who became very dear to me ☕🌿 Mj

Rain Through Me

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The memory of you grows fainter
with each passing day,
your smile growing distant.

I cherish the way
the crinkles round your eyes
and mouth light me up,
yet they are dimming,
like twilight into night.

I long to hear your laugh,
like the gentlest rainstorm
pouring through me.

Night stretches on;
an old weight gathers
beneath my ribs.

I hoped you’d always be
right by my side,
but nothing lasts forever, my love.

A little poem I wrote last night about the one you miss. Mj

color of rage

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the scream that

no one hears,

concealed behind

beguiling soft eyes,

and practiced yeses

is the color of rage

Photo by Yusuf Sabqi on Unsplash

burning alive

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remember the first time
you brushed the hair back
from my eyes

it was one of those fever-hot days last July
sand covered our bronzed, bare feet
you leaned into me, your kisses all heat;
i could barely breathe
we were burning alive

you were the blue,
always changing like the tide
born to love me with all the grace
of a blooming sunrise,
my morning star
we kept burning alive

sun and sand,
wind through the palms
we moved together,
in sweet surrender
day and night
i loved you for eternity,
my evening song
we burned through the night

Photo by Storiès on Unsplash

Almost There!

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Now that I’m stepping away from the profession of psychotherapy, it feels okay to reveal my identity. Hey, I’m Mj, aka Moongirl! Before becoming a therapist, I shared photos regularly, but once I entered the field professionally, I felt the need to protect my privacy in case a client happened upon my site. It served its purpose for a long time, though I must admit it feels good to have a little more freedom now, and I hope to write more often again.

Just three more days until my resignation is official! I saw my final client today, and the rest of my time will be spent writing termination notes. Our clinical team is attending a “retreat” on Wednesday, my last day, and apparently we’re going to an escape room. I’ve never done one before, so that should be interesting. There’s something quite poetic about ending my career in mental health by trying to escape a locked room!

Despite the grief of saying goodbye to my colleagues and students, I’m beginning to accept that it’s time for me to move on. It has taken four years to fully realize that this work caused more than burnout. It unearthed pain by triggering and retriggering wounds of my own. To sit with that kind of suffering day after day eventually takes its toll. Yes, I spent years doing my own trauma work in therapy. I still don’t entirely understand why this profession affected me the way it did while other therapists with similar histories seemed less impacted. Perhaps I’m simply too sensitive — I sure as hell can’t figure it out.

In all honesty, the path of the witch, otherwise known as modern witchcraft, and spirituality have helped me heal more deeply than anything else, and for that, I’m profoundly grateful 🌙 It’s a deeply personal, lifelong spiritual and magikal journey, far removed from the way it’s often portrayed in movies. This path has guided me back to what feels most meaningful: nature, writing, music, spirituality, connection to self and others, and learning to trust myself. In many ways, it’s been a return to who I truly am.

To honor the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another, I’ll be celebrating with a new tattoo. Photos to come ✨

And I’m excited about starting a sound therapy practice, though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also a little scared. I’m not sure it’s the kind of work that generates a substantial income, but to me that isn’t the only measure of a meaningful life. For now, I suppose I’ll simply see what becomes of it. Life is too short — I don’t want to waste precious time! I hope to wake up on Thursday, drink my cup of coffee slowly, and lounge in bed all morning long. That is the life.

no longer here

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the tiny murmur in my heart

became a whisper, and the whisper grew to be a wail until

the wail became a moan; the moan reminds me that you are no

longer here; the tourniquet has stilled the spill ’round my grieving heart,

yet has done nothing to remove the memory of you from my pounding head, so i will

write and write another day until the moan becomes a wail, and

the wail softens into a whisper, and the whisper once again becomes

a tiny murmur, then there will be nothing but silence to

remind me that you are no longer here

—Sometimes the feeling of loss is so visceral. Mj

Photo by Sasha Freemind on Unsplash

goodbyes are damn hard

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Hello out there, and happy May! I hope wherever you are, the weather is sunny and warm. It’s been a rather chilly spring thus far here in Southern California. We did have a few very warm days about a month ago, but since then it’s cooled off. I’m completely enjoying it.

I’m in the process of winding things down at the university — holding final sessions with clients and preparing for my departure. I underestimated how difficult it would be to say good-bye. When I was considering resigning last year, all I could feel was the fatigue, day after day, the burnout.

It’s funny — once you decide to leave, people begin to share their appreciation for you and your work. It’s difficult to truly assess any impact you’ve made when you’re “in it.” I enjoyed my role as the Asian & Pacific Islander (API) Liaison. I deeply loved the work, and I will miss the students and director of APCC (The Asian & Pacific Cultural Center), who has become a friend.

We recently held a cultural graduation celebration for the Asian & Pacific Islander/Southwest Asian & North African students. It was a more intimate gathering, a space to truly honor the graduates in a way the larger ceremonies simply can’t. I’m sure the students felt that. One student I’ve gotten to know pretty well over the past year asked me to attend their graduation, and I was so touched. So yes, my heart is breaking a little — maybe a lot. I think I’m writing this simply to give the grief somewhere to go.

Goodbyes have always been difficult, even as a young child — adoption trauma at its finest. I remember experiencing intense anxiety when my adoptive dad, in particular, went away on business trips. It was like a panic attack laced with grief, a kind of separation anxiety that sat so heavy in my chest. I hated being left at daycare and later, elementary school. Yep, I was the screamer and had terrible stomachaches at school that couldn’t be explained.

My godmother, Janie, visited our family once when I was in elementary school. When it was time for her to return home, I felt that same profound sadness and panic. With every day, I grew increasingly anxious and sad. I sobbed in the car as my mom and I took her to the airport. I stayed there, too embarrassed to step out because I couldn’t stop crying. For days afterward, I mourned her departure. I couldn’t find the words to explain the depth of my emotions, even when my mom asked. I recognize it now as simply pain.

Moments of separation still tend to feel like a small death, not to be morbid, just honest. The intensity has softened, but the grief remains. Some trauma wounds don’t fully close, I’m convinced. It’s part of being human, and perhaps what has shaped me into the trauma therapist I’ve become.

I have facilitated groups for the past three years at APCC. It’s such a vibrant hub where API students gather to study, hang out, play mahjong, and student workers/leaders host support groups. The group I facilitate is called HAPI Hour (get it?), and we explore different topics related to API student mental health. This Wednesday is our last one… and it will be a celebration of all the fun we’ve shared. What great memories I’ll have of the center and the students who I came to adore.

With my resignation, I’ll have more time to devote to sound therapy — growing my practice and following what calls to me. Still, I’ll miss the university, my colleagues, and the students, despite the burnout and those moments I wasn’t sure I could make it through another workday. Goodbyes are damn hard.

May the coming months open into a simpler, more inspired life — one filled with creativity, and of course, magick.

Photo by Alexander Popovkin on Unsplash

Crossroads

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I did it. Yesterday, April 17, under the New Moon, I resigned from my job. The New Moon symbolizes fresh beginnings, intention-setting, planting seeds, and quiet reflection. My last day will be May 20, the end of my contract and the close of the semester. A chapter is ending.

I began this role as a university psychotherapist in June 2023, just three days after leaving my ex-husband and moving into a small apartment of my own. In many ways, that job marked the beginning of a new life. But the work proved far more demanding than I had anticipated.

During my time at the university, I came to a quiet but persistent truth: I’ve never really enjoyed being a therapist. I kept waiting for it to get better, but it never did. Instead, the work grew heavier, increasingly draining. And I’m afraid not even the summer, winter, and spring breaks could prevent burnout.

What did light me up was my role as the Asian & Pacific Islander (API) Cultural Center Liaison, work rooted in supporting the mental health and wellbeing of API students. That space felt different — lighter — and the students were an absolute joy to work with.

I believe I’m a good trauma therapist. The starry heavens know I’ve poured years and more money than I care to recount on trainings, books, and a lifetime’s worth of lived experience. It just rings hollow. That may sound harsh. I wish I’d known then what I know now. I can’t reclaim that time, but I can choose what comes next: a slower, simpler, more artful life.

I’m hoping to grow my sound therapy practice, Om Sacred Sound Journeys, and leave room for whatever else wants to emerge. I know music will be part of this next chapter and writing, too. I’m planning on beginning a new book.

My last book never found commercial success. I’ve only just started reading it for the first time since it was published in 2017. I mean, how many times did I reread, reshape, and edit the draft? The story of my first trip to Taiwan to meet my birth family marks one of the most significant chapters of my life. Publishing it wasn’t for nothing. A younger version of me wrote those pages from a very different place. And still, the emotions are just as vivid, from the search to the moment we found our way back to one another.

Earlier this week, the oracle card “to the stars and beyond” surfaced in my (tarot) reading from Rose Bae Tarot’s These Blue Bones, a deck having a moment right now. It felt like both a spark and an affirmation for my decision to resign. Lately, I find myself thinking about mortality, not out of gloom, but clarity. Time shifts as we mature. There’s less time to do what makes you happy. In this season, I get to choose how I live it. Autonomy. Personal sovereignty. Independence. Let me embody this new path, to the stars and beyond.

This song brings me back to my younger self. I’ve been especially nostalgic of late. It may not quite fit this post, but it fits my mood perfectly.

Held by Sound

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Have you ever been so moved by a piece of music that it brought you to tears? I have. I still am.

For days, I’ve felt drawn to listen to On the Nature of Daylight by Max Richter. Are you familiar with it? It’s easily one of my favorite contemporary classical works. I love all of Richter’s music, but this piece feels especially transcendent.

I wanted to give it my full attention, and the quiet of this morning felt like the perfect time. I sat with headphones on, hands crossed over my heart, and let the music hold space. I literally shed tears, so completely was I captured by it.

So many thoughts and emotions moved through me that I began listing them in my journal: ecstasy, sorrow, despair, sadness, transcendence, love, intimacy, desire, longing, yearning, hope, bliss, magick, forgiveness, tenderness, tolerance, caress, breath, movement, darkness, light, expression, expansion, transformation, warmth, belief, faith, embrace, connection, grief, loss, truth…

And yet words still feel insufficient to describe this kind of magick.

I kept the piece on repeat as I moved through my morning tarot reading. The first card I drew was Art — Temperance in the Rider–Waite–Smith system — a card of integration and alchemy: making whatever you do a work of art; friendship between mind and heart; rest and activity; light and dark; self and others; approaching life creatively, with an artist’s eye.

It felt deeply aligned with the experience itself — as though the music and the card were speaking the same language.

Music saves and meets me exactly where I am. My first love — and likely my last.

I remember spending hours alone in a tiny practice room at Centenary College (of Louisiana), just me and Beethoven, Bach, Chopin, Debussy, Mozart…There was no fear or judgment there. No pressure to please an audience or play perfectly. Only connection — to the keyboard, to sound, to frequency and vibration. It felt sublime.

In today’s heavy world, music still holds the power to uplift, to ground, and to offer a kind of safe communion unlike anything else.

I recently discovered an artist who was new to me: Yannic Lowack, a German composer. The piece featured below, Leuer, is another composition I’ve completely fallen in love with. He also shared a short preview of an orchestral version — without piano — on Instagram. You can find him on both YouTube and Instagram.

I miss those days of studying music and practicing piano every day. They remind me of who I was — and still am, despite the years away — a musician, drawn to the expressive arts. May the days ahead bring new opportunities to return to the keyboard and reconnect with that musical inheritance!

things inspiring me at the turn of a new year

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The turning of a new year feels like a threshold. A liminal space where the old hasn’t fully released and the new is still forming. I’m approaching this year with reverence and a willingness to listen.

I’m inspired by emptiness and pause, by moving slowly enough to feel my breath, my body, and the subtle ways intuition speaks. This season is teaching me that becoming is a spiritual process, not something to force, but something to tend. I often feel like I’m learning things I wish I’d practiced years ago.

Music, art, and tarot are my spiritual anchors. Music is one thing I don’t think I could live without. It connects me to places within that no one else sees, to innocence, curiosity, adventure, and fearlessness. There is a kind of purity in music, something unspoiled by the world. Music brings me back into rhythm when I feel scattered. Art is like a devotional practice, a way of communing with the divine through color, texture, and movement. It allows emotion to alchemize into meaning without needing explanation.

Tarot is my sacred mirror, a language of images and symbols that invite dialogue with my soul. Each card is an invitation to slow down, to notice what is stirring beneath the surface, and to trust my inner wisdom over all the external noise. I’m in love with it.

The rituals I practice tend to be simple yet intentional. Making my morning cup of coffee. Lighting a candle before I begin. Playing music with awareness. Creating without an outcome in mind. Pulling a card and sitting with its message as a form of prayer. These practices ground me in the present moment and remind me that spirituality lives in attention, not performance, and for one who has struggled with crippling performance anxiety, it is an invitation to let go.

This year, I’m choosing devotion over productivity, alignment over striving. I’m honoring rest as sacred and simplicity as a form of truth. I’m learning to recognize the divine in ordinary moments: A familiar melody, light through my window, the quiet companionship of my beloved dachshund, Poppie.

As I step into this new year, I am trying my best to do so with soft faith. Trusting timing, the unseen, and allowing life to unfold as it will. Let me be guided by sound, symbol, and creative spirit, for they are truly the languages through which my soul remembers what it already knows.

Down memory lane. Oh, how I loved classic rock growing up. This playlist stirs up cherished memories, a sense of innocence and curiosity, and the wild, adventurous spirit of those years.

a gentle life

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I want a slow, simple, peaceful life,
one that doesn’t ask me to live on edge,
one that doesn’t grind my bones to dust
just to pay the goddamn rent.

A life where enough is enough,
where healing is a calling
that feeds me too,
not just those around me.

I wish for mornings that open softly,
light pouring in without alarms,
furry creatures and soft whinnies,
the quiet language of animals,
knowing without words.

I’m not asking for castles
or keys to forever.
The material doesn’t interest me.
Only a place where love is close
and the ones I cherish
are within reach of my voice.

Why is that so hard?
Why does something so small
feel near impossible,
like asking the world to stop spinning
for one gentle hour?

And still, inside this tired chest,
lives a stubborn spark
that keeps burning.
There must be more than this;
there must be a slower way to live.

So I hold that wish
like a candle in the dark
and dream of a life
that doesn’t hurt to wake up to.

Photo by Toni Reed on Unsplash

Honor Rest & Renewal on Samhain

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Today, I pause. I breathe. I rest and honor my ancestors on this blessed Samhain.

I’m grateful to have the day off – to simply be. To sit in stillness and solitude without the weight of expectation feels like a blessing in itself. The veil is thin today, and I lean into the presence of those who came before me – my birth mother and father, and the lineage of ancestors whose names I may never know. I honor them, and I honor the mystery that connects us across time and space.

Lately, life has felt full and demanding. I’m working full-time again, and though I hoped summer break would bring the restoration I so deeply needed, fatigue seems to have returned too soon. Halfway through the fall semester, I find myself wondering how to sustain balance – how to counsel others, meet the demands of my current job while not forgetting myself.

My dream remains clear: To eventually transition into full-time sound therapy work. Supporting my adult daughter these past two years has delayed that shift, yet I hold faith that in time, things will align. When she finds her footing, I’ll be able to step more fully into the work my heart longs for, creating healing spaces through resonance, stillness, and sound.

Despite the challenges, I’m proud of the small steps forward. I’ve completed my website, OM Sacred Sound Journeys, a milestone that feels like planting a tiny seed. Beginning next February, I’ll offer bi-weekly sound therapy sessions, a sacred rhythm I hope will grow into something sustainable and nourishing. 

I’m reconnecting with my musical roots, singing and playing for a herd I once worked with in equine-assisted psychotherapy and slowly returning to my guitar after years away. These small acts of reconnection remind me that healing unfolds gradually, as does starting a private practice.

Self-employment feels both thrilling and terrifying. The freedom to follow my calling is overshadowed by the very real worries of bills, rent, health insurance, and all the practicalities of life. Yet amidst uncertainty, I sense that this path is where I’m meant to go.

So today, under the quiet light of Samhain, I choose rest. I choose reflection. I choose to listen deeply to the whispers of my ancestors, to the call of my own heart, and to stillness. May this season bring renewal, remembrance, and faith in what is yet to come.

Photo by Catherine Crawford on Unsplash

Dark Moon

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Hello World! Wow, it’s been a minute since I last visited WordPress. It is the eve of Mabon and the Autumn Equinox – if you live in the Northern hemsphere – and  Ostara and the Spring Equinox – if you live in the Southern hemisphere. I will be observing Mabon bright and early first thing tomorrow morning before work…sigh…with a group of other like-minded and spirited individuals. It is also a dark moon or new moon, my favorite.

I am not a morning person, well, more accurately, I’m a slowwwww morning person and hate rushing. I am not a fan of the 8am-5pm work-life schedule of which I am now bound, against the clock at every damn minute of the day. Who’s idea was that anyway? I’m dreaming of cutting that cord, but the day has not yet arrived.

And so the wheel of the year continues…one cycle ends making space for a new one. What lessons have I learned? What paths have I traversed? Hmm…Life has been one continuous wheel of never-ending “tower moments” for the past two and a half years. I hope something more peace loving and soul aligned arrives soon. 

Things that keep me grounded during tower moments include art and spirituality. Collaging has become a beloved outlet, a wide open space to tap into creative expression. It’s such a satisfying artistic art form. I love designing a collage, selecting the photos, pictures, etc, to create a narrative. Maybe I’m the only one who gets it, but who cares! My spiritual practice has taken a nose dive now that I’m back at work. But little moments here and there are better than none at all.

I hope to travel to Taiwan over the winter break in January to visit my birthfamily. My eldest sister has already reserved a hotel. It’s been 13 years since I last saw my birthfamily. I never intended to wait such a long time to revisit. We are much older, and good health is not guaranteed to any of us. I truly hope I will have the energy to be present with my family, not some shell of myself. This academic year, I vowed not to get to the level of burnout I experienced last year. Steps to protect my energy are always at the forefront of my mind. 

In the meantime, welcome Autumn! I look forward to cooler days, to pumpkin pie, and the holiday season. Oh, and to slowing down, of course. Autumn is my favorite time of the year! I do love it so. Hoping you are all safe and well wherever you are. May cooler weather bring a welcome change of pace into your life!

Feature Photo by Šimom Caban on Unsplash

Photo Gallery: Collages by moi!

A Home Blessing

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For alter, home, or sacred space.
Cast a circle if that is part of your practice.

By sacred breath and will divine
I cast this circle, draw the line
Here I am safe, here I am found–
Within these walls, now hallowed ground.

May love take root and passion flame,
Magick rise and speak its name.
Let humor dance through every room,
To lift the heart and chase the gloom.

Live well, my dear, within this space,
A haven forged in time and grace.
Where dreams take wing and hope may rest,
A sacred hearth where all feels blessed.

From shadow’s grip, the past released,
Old fears unbound, their hold now ceased.
New seeds are sown in fertile soul,
To bloom in light, to make me whole.

With every breath, let blessings flow,
As peace and solitude softly grow.
So may it be–by flame and sea,
By sky, by stone, by will in me.
✨ It is done. It is sealed. And, so it is. ✨

Photo by petr sidorov on Unsplash

Summer Breeze

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Summer break has finally arrived! Whew! My tiny space is coming together, beginning to feel like home, and my dog has adapted well to the space. She’s such a fierce bundle of joy. I hope to have her for longer periods of time. She is usually with my ex, as he works from home. I didn’t want to leave her alone for 8+ hours while I worked. I miss her, as we truly were attached at the hip. That’s Poppie below. There are no personal boundaries with a doxie.

I’ve had a couple of days to sit on the other side of a busy year. I became someone I didn’t recognize, an irritable, moody shell. I read some of my past posts and cringed. Some have been deleted. Slowing down is a gift to be savored. Perhaps a shift is on the horizon. I trust in divine wisdom and that clarity is yet to come. 

Last night I took a stroll around the neighborhood. The scent of jasmine is lovely this time of year, and the neighborhood is heady with it! There was a nice summer breeze, like that Seals and Croft song, 

Summer breeze, makes me feel fine
Blowin’ through the jasmine in my mind.

I plan to catch up on some blog reading soon. Gosh, it’s been a while. Happy writing, and wishing you a stellar day!

Feature Photo by Emma Dau on Unsplash

the path less thorny

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show me the way
to the path less thorny
where the waters are hushed
and my mind soft

where a quiet corner waits
away from the grind
and I can sit without worry
there I feel at home,

nestled under a sky crowded
with stars, the moon suspended,
the heavens unfastened wide

on the path less thorny
I live another life
time flows gently
and I am strong again

Photo by Aleksandra Boguslawska on Unsplash

Magic Fucking Wand

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My fuck-it meter’s spiking high;
I can’t even see straight.
If only fuck were a magic word –
a spell I could hiss,
I’d summon a wand from thin air
and set the whole damn mess on fire.

My fuck-it, fuck-you, fuck-this thoughts
softened on the spot,
equilibrium restored
with one damn flick of the wrist
Now that would be some powerful magick.

Guess I’ll just sage instead.

Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash

For Best

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What to do when the answer’s unclear,
when clarity is obscured,
knowing that the wrong decision could
unravel everything.

Oh, the anxiety that spins me
round and round!
It leaves me unraveled.
A terrible pounding fills my head,
and breath catches
somewhere between my ribs
in spasms of fear and doubt

Still I must go forward,
for perhaps there is no right or wrong,
only what is,
what might be.

May the clouds lift
and the sun promise
a day without panic.
Be patient, my dear,
do not fret,
for the answer is near.
Though it may not be
the one you want,
it is the one you need.

Home

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Rosy morning sunlight scatters
as I walk the path of memories,
yearning to recover what is lost.

You must sense it too;
we have known each other
in other worlds,
perhaps past lifetimes.

A loss that aches, buried
deep within my marrow;
yet some ancient part
of me remembers what even
the absence of memory
cannot erase.

You walk beside me and know all of
my shadows, sending light to the dark
corners of my heart.

With you I am home.
Across dimensions, light years,
the expanse of time;
wherever you are, I am home.
I know it to be true.

Drømmefanger by Kalandra. Drømmefanger translated means “dreamcatcher.”

Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

Big Magick

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I have been home sick. Worked remote yesterday but today called out. I really don’t like to call out sick. I cannot remember the last time I felt so run down. Ah, it was when I contracted COVID in 2020, followed by a chronic subdural hygroma that was excruciatingly painful. So weird. Who knows how I ended up with a hygroma. I did not anticipate that the work at my present job would be so tough … Seriously, I don’t think I’m a hypochondriac. I typically love life, freedom, creative expression, music, art. I’ll be out for winter break in a month, at which time I will glory in slow mornings, drinking a full cup of coffee, and avoiding the damn 405 like the plague. Nearly a month off, yessss!

I watched an interview with author, Elizabeth Gilbert, who appeared on the Mike Birbiglia show after my work day. I followed Gilbert’s Big Magic podcast for a while and greatly admire her independence, her break from the long held expectations of females. I love that she feels happier in solitude and perhaps more productive, certainly, freer outside the confines of romantic entanglement. I appreciate her views on creativity and work and her ethics related to avoiding that pressure to utilize your creativity as a sole source of income. She noted that she had multiple income streams until her fourth book, Eat Pray, Love, took off and made her a successful author. I have been considering what work path to pursue that allows for increased quality of life and creativity, less stress, and less “helping others,” as truly, I am burnt to a crisp. The more intuitive side of me begs to come out and play. I keep telling her to be patient until I have more space, stillness; her time will come. Life is short, is it not? Especially at this age when there are fewer years left to live. I’d love to engage more in what inspires me – writing, nature, reading, playing music, sound medicine, growing plants, animals, magick.

I am possibly the worst business person ever. I learned that after having a private practice for a couple of years prior to my current job. I admire those who run their own businesses. Self employment comes with a caveat. You have to be successful to sustain a living! And California ain’t cheap. Lessons from Liz Gilbert. Don’t quit your day job to pursue your creative interests. I appreciate that Gilbert was her own sugar mama. I also resonate with the notion that there has to be another reason to make art besides the market. She talked about the book she decided not to publish, The Snow Forest, due to the war between Russia and the Ukraine. Ukranian readers expressed their disdain at the release due to the book’s Russian setting. Gilbert said it took three years to write. But she got the message, how harmful it would be to release the book at such a time, two years after Russia invaded Ukraine. Wow. It is sitting on a shelf for another time or maybe never.

I’m trying to wrap my head around the idea of creating work for the simple joy of creating, whether others see it, read it, like it or not. Wouldn’t it be dreamy to make money doing what you love, but for some of us, perhaps it’s not in the stars. There will always be others who are more talented, more ambitious, more successful, in their prime. Maybe I need to aim higher. Manifest more diligently. One can daydream, even in mid-life, and make shifts slowly towards a path that is more fulfilling. I am too old to work this hard, at least my body tells me so. And I must listen. Wimp or not, it is personal choice and the freedom to have that choice. When I have figured it all out, I will let you know. It may be a little while yet.

Photo by Sofia Holmberg on Unsplash

dream me a dream

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dream me a dream
where peaceful waters flow
wading barefoot through the ripples,
time moving slow

dream me a dream
of misty painted raindrops
leaving stains upon my skin
like white velvet polka dots

dream me a dream
of wind whistling through the pines
the scent of green lingers,
the drowsy clouds sigh

Photo by Meritt Thomas on Unsplash

the weeping willow

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listen to the soughing of
the weeping willow tree
bending gently with the wind,
swaying as she pleases

sallow leaves drift elegantly
velvet twigs of green and brown
sweeping always, bending low
to kiss the earthy ground

she stands with pride, fluidity
a brave, bold soul is she
can stand against the strongest wind
yet give pollen to the bees

let us honor her in stillness,
her beauty give us breath
may she dwell beside the mossy pond
her crown to always bloometh

Dance of the North by Joanne Shenandoah, who was of the Oneida Indian Nation. This song was played during a music therapy conference I attended today. It was played in a training using Guided Imagery & Music, a specific type of music therapy. I fell in love with the song, which inspired this poem.

We had a beautiful weeping willow tree in our backyard when I was a kid. I watched it grow until its crown grew to be beautiful and full. It gave me much joy and wonder over the years.

Photo by Fran on Unsplash

total eclipse of the sun

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the moon decided to eclipse today
the fair sun along its merry way
between the earth and brightest star
a path predestined from afar
a phenomenal sight to behold
another not to occur for years, I’m told
though not on the path of totality
awed nonetheless by our Celestial Galaxy
a time to awaken, heal and expand
set your intentions, expect the grand
life is too short, we have only today
live with intention, live to play
for work is a necessity, will always be there
but a life well lived, truly one cannot spare

All right, so this is not the best poem, but i felt moved to honor the solar eclipse today. And, I wrote it during my lunch break, lol. I went for a walk at 11:11am, the peak of the eclipse in my area, and there was a couple sitting on the curb, trying to catch a glimpse of the eclipse with a metal strainer. They were talking with a stranger, who just so happened to have eclipse glasses. He let each of us borrow them. I saw the eclipse, and it was the coolest thing ever! I’ve never seen any eclipse in real time, and this will probably be the only solar eclipse I see in my lifetime, as the next one won’t occur until 2044 or 2045. So it was really special! Cheers! I hope you were able to enjoy the solar eclipse.

Photo by Unsplash in collaboration with Alex Shuper

in perfect rhapsody

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for miles and miles
nothing but blue,
my glassy reflection
cast by the fair moon

let me swim your depths
and befriend the whales,
ride the stoic waves,
set to sail

as though on  wings
spun of golden light,
and all in the world
is peaceful and quiet

there’d be no more sorrow,
save delight,
I’m warmed by a canopy
of falling stars, a scattered night

sing with me world,
sing of ocean’s majesty
united together
in perfect rhapsody

Hymn by Karl Jenkins, sung by a female chorus and from the album Adiemus-Songs of Sanctuary. The whole album is absolutely beautiful. I thought this piece caught the spirit of this poem. It takes you to a whole different world. Enjoy.

Photo by guille pozzi on Unsplash

secret garden

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let us dance

in the secret garden

barefoot and free

scattering light like tiny fireflies

across the shadowy sky

and

breathing magic

into the silky air