Category Archives: Creative Writing

Lop-sided

How I hate disappointing you.
The silence that follows.
It screams, “you failed,”
and that primeval hammer
in my nervous system
sounds the alarm.
My younger self, her face
red and burning,
insides churning;
her hands balled up
in tight little fists.
She silently rages
and turns her pain inward.
I am not fooled by
your sugar-coated words,
your pious efforts that appear
like some kind of holiness;
they just as quickly
become poisonous quills.
I am letting go,
for in letting go I am free –
Oh that my freedom
had not come at
such a high cost!
It is a double-edged sword,
a fine balance
between power and sacrifice,
relief and sorrow,
feeling everything
and nothing at all,
often at the same time.
I weep for all the things lost,
yet all the things gained.
My heart is lop-sided.
And lop-sided shall it be
till better days arrive.
I will survive.
For a lop-sided heart
is better than an
imprisoned one.
Let me rejoice in
having a heart at all.


Photo by Felix Rottmann on Unsplash

For Best

What to do when the answer is unclear,
when unable to obtain the clarity you seek
knowing that the wrong decision could
wreak havoc, make life rather bleak.
Oh, the anxiety that spins me round and round
makes me weak, and I cannot ground!
It feels like a terrible pounding in my head.
I cannot catch my breath! It is caught between
my ribs in spasms of fear and uncertainty.
Alone, I must go forward, for there is no
right or wrong, only what is, what might be.
No one to to tell me what is best.
May the clouds lift and the sun promise
a day without panic. Be patient, my dear,
try not to fret, for the answer is near,
though it may not be what you want,
it is for best.

Home

Under a rosy morning sun
I walk the path of memories,
yearning to recover what has
been lost across lifetimes.
You must sense it too, that we have
known each other a very long time,
centuries, millennia, who is to know,
except perhaps our souls?
An achy, distant loss buried deep within
my marrow; yet, there is a knowingness
when I am with you that not even the
absence of memory can repress.
You walk beside me and know all of
my shadows, illuminating the dark
corners of my heart and mind.
With you I am home.
Across dimensions, light years,
the expansion of time; wherever you are,
I am at home.
May it always be true now and for evermore.

Drømmefanger by Kalandra. Drømmefanger translated means “dreamcatcher.”

Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash


Big Magick

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

Happy November 1st

Hi out there. Hope this post finds you well. I’m enjoying a day off of work, as I celebrated Samhain with a friend last nite. We honored our ancestors, practiced some divination, had some drinks. It was a fun, magickal evening.

I recently connected with a shaman who I’ll begin working with soon. She spoke of a strong ancestral presence upon our first conversation. I was never interested in my ancestry until I found my adoption contract, hidden in my adoptive parents’ attic for who knows how long. It found its way to me immediately following my adoptive mother’s funeral, as though my mom was saying, “I want you to have this now.” The contract revealed things my adoptive parents hid from me and likely falsified. So many things were untrue. My adoptive mom made sure that all ties to my birth country were severed. On the rare occasion that I brought up questions, she became weirdly paranoid, asking who put me up to asking such questions. I didn’t pursue it. It’s been 12 years since I visited the country of my birth, Taiwan. I’ve wanted to return but life happens and so many things have gotten in the way. My hope is to return sometime next year. And I hope that in working with this shaman, I’ll connect with my birth mother and perhaps other ancestors.

I haven’t written any poems lately. We’re so fatigued at work from a very busy fall semester and previously, a not so slow summer. Fatigue has a way of crushing creativity. I’m glad to know it’s not just me but my colleagues also feel it, the burnout. Secondly, I go back and read some of my poems and think, this is such shitty poetry. What possessed me to write poems? On the other hand, it was therapeutic while I went through a divorce. Freedom. It feels good. Yet there are some days when the loss comes up so strong it literally catches my breath, and I cannot believe where I am, how I made it out, what I’m doing. It’s not so much the loss of a marriage but what I left behind…my dog, my piano, my music books, the little nest I built that was home, etc (I will retrieve those things when I have a permanent place). Even the dissolution of the most toxic marriage is felt as a loss. I don’t know how else to explain it. I have felt the gamut of emotion, sadness, anger, anxiety, worry, hopelessness, uncertainty. At times, I sometimes still feel transient, displaced. No one would know that I’m grieving. I come across like I have my shit together (most days). And on we go.

Samhain lasts till sundown this evening; the veil between this world and the “Otherworld” remains thinnest. So maybe some spellwork today and divination. Certainly, pondering my ancestral roots, the birth parents I never knew and honoring my birth mother in particular. Wishing you all a very blessed day. I thank you for stopping by and hope to catch up on reading your posts soon. May you enjoy the turning of the season!

With You by Kalandra. To my soulmate wherever you may be…Honestly, we have multiple soulmates, but this song is so beautiful I’m sending it out…lolol…And I’m currently obsessed with this band.

Photo by Daizy Isumi on Unsplash

shadow of you

out of this body,
out of this mind
running frantically in place
as though running out of time
in my dreams i search for you
amid a forest thick with mist,
but you are not to be found,
and there i remain alone and adrift
when suddenly you appear
under a half-lit crescent moon,
time seems to stand still, illuminated
yet you disappear far too soon
i reach blindly for your shadow
to it shall i cling,
but your shadow slowly fades
no solace does it bring


Endings, live performance by East Forest

Photo by Sven Brandsma on Unsplash

forever young

there’s this uncanny feeling i get
deep down in my gut
like we knew each other
in a past life
i’m most sure of it
my dear friend
who would have known
that after all this time,
we’d end up partners in crime?
hittin’ downtown
like we’re jewels in the crown
soakin’ up the sun
oh, let it be written
that we own the night
under gilded moonlight
you the mage, I the madness
a toast to us,
to all we’ve lost, yet become
may there be more days like this
living life to the fullest
you and i,
forever free, forever young


Photo by David Marcu on Unsplash

She

she looks to the sky
for some divination,
some explanation
for the way things are
why did the stars align
as they did on the day
she was born?
why was she vanquished
to a place where she languished
until it was decided she’d
grow up foreign?
daydreams and portals,
she was anything but normal
drawn to the celestial,
a bit of a rebel
a Starseed is she
when things get too troubling
on Earth, she is struggling
she remembers how silly
of her to forget
that she is
the love of her life
she will survive
she will yet thrive,
and that is all that she needs


For my fellow adoptees who know too well the hurts caused by adoption…

Berceuse in D-Flat, Op. 57, Frédéric Chopin. I love this piece so much and have always wanted to learn to play it. Chopin was always so difficult to play for lots of different reasons. I have small hands, and in Chopin’s piano literature, there are often large intervals that I had to get creative playing, not to mention the technical difficulty. I was an average pianist in my abilities compared to my peers and wasn’t super diligent with practice. I mean, 8 hours a day of practice was just not me. Four was about all I could mange. If super inspired, maybe six, lol. I learned one of Chopin’s Ballades (A-Flat) in my undergraduate piano studies. It was such a beautiful piece – I remember wishing that I could perform it better. I also recall another more technically advanced individual telling me it was Chopin’s easiest Ballade. I just wanted to say, fuck off. I truly hated the perfection required in classical training. Always riddled by performance anxiety. Probably why I despised performing and liked dancing and acting better – you could improvise if you messed up. I do admire pianists who achieve that level of performing. I think I’d be a different performer now, however.

Anyway, one of my professors performed the piece during a recital, and it was such a lovely performance. Was mesmerized. I like Gorlatch’s performance, as it’s at a tempo I prefer for this piece. He makes it look so easy! In fact, this piece is really difficult. So much is subjective within the limits of the period and style the piece was written in. It’s interesting to compare pianists’ interpretations. There is a performance I enjoy slightly more, Wibe Soerjadi, but couldn’t find on YouTube. I love alternative/indie/classic rock and other genres, but often go back to classical when I need to get more grounded.

This piece fit the poem above. Enjoy.

Photo by Rémi Jacquaint on Unsplash

let go of ego

this is where i find myself
struggling to embrace
all that is the human experience
i’d soon forget our race
dying to let go of ego,
vying for some balance
finding shelter incognito
in a kind and gentler space
remember who i am,
remember who i’m not
let go of shallow words and gestures
how tiresome are your arrogant thoughts
to live and breathe a life of love
of this i shall pursue
i have no time for human games
i long for a life, a love that’s true


I Hate Everything About You-Live Acoustic, Three Days Grace. An oldie but goodie…my “I don’t give a fuck meter” is at an all time high. Full song lyrics here.

Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash