Tag Archives: Creative Writing

Blue Moon

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Hey y’all. If you haven’t heard yet, we’re in for a rare lunar treat this month 🌕 May is closing out with not one, but two full moons. The first arrived on May 1 with the full Flower Moon, and on May 31, the rare Blue Moon will rise.

This phenomenon only happens every two to three years, according to NASA. Additionally, this Blue Moon happens to be a micromoon, meaning the moon will be at its farthest point from Earth and may appear slightly smaller in the night sky.

Blue moons occur because the moon’s lunar cycle lasts about 29.5 days, while our calendar months stretch 30 to 31 days. Every two to three years, the timing aligns just right, giving us a full moon at both the beginning and end of a single month. Pretty magical, right?

And get this: bars across California, from LA to San Diego, are celebrating the occasion by serving blue-colored beer from Blue Moon Brewing Company in honor of this special moon. Right here in my own backyard, Panama Joe’s seems to be the hive for grabbing a pint of blue beer.

Spiritually, the Blue Moon is seen as a rare cosmic gift, a lunar moment believed to amplify our intentions and inner calling. According to Tea and Rosemary, this Blue Moon rises in Sagittarius opposite the Gemini Sun, illuminating our beliefs, personal truths, and deep hunger for freedom. Right on!

Sagittarius energy invites us to expand, explore, and aim higher. As they describe it, this may be one of the most adventurous and truth-revealing moons of the year. Here’s an invitation to turn inward and listen closely to what this rare Blue Moon may be bringing forth in you:

This moon will bring:

  • A surge of optimism and big picture vision
  • Revelation of deeply buried truths
  • A burning desire for authenticity (always)
  • Opportunities for travel, learning, or spiritual growth (I’m visiting MA & CO next month)

This moon asks:

  • What uncomfortable truths are becoming clear?
  • What outdated beliefs are you ready to release?
  • What adventure is calling you forward?

Great journal prompts for self-reflection!

Here are some Blue Moon activities:

  • Go for a night walk under the moonlight
  • Dance freely to upbeat music as an offering to the moon (Count me in!)
  • Burn a list of limiting beliefs in a sacred fire (or candlelight)
  • Bury a written wish at the base of a tree
  • Embark on a spontaneous adventure

So, people, take aim and point your arrow toward whatever sets your soul ablaze! But above all, take a moment to soak in the wonder of this rare Blue Moon. Cheers!

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

shadow of you

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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 waning moon,
time itself stands illuminated
yet you disappear far too soon

i reach blindly for your shadow
and to it I dare cling,
but your shadow slowly fades–
no solace does it bring

—Turns out nightmares are oddly good for poetry, lol. Mj

Endings, live performance by East Forest

Photo by Sven Brandsma 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

Playlist

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One of my students recently gifted me Heart and The Carpenters LPs as a parting gift from the university, and I was genuinely moved. One day, we were talking about classic rock bands, and I casually mentioned how much I ❤️ Heart.

Lately, I’ve been completely re-obsessed with them. Bad Animals has been on repeat.

I’ve also been deeply into Madison Cunningham lately. If you haven’t listened to her, you absolutely should. She’s a musical genius and an incredible guitarist. What’s especially remarkable is that she was never formally trained — she learned from her father, who was apparently an exceptional guitarist himself.

Two songs I can’t stop listening to right now: Want You So Bad (Heart) and My Full Name (Cunningham).

I love everything about Want You So Bad — such an underrated and absolutely badass song, in my humble opinion. Ann Wilson’s vocals fully embody the yearning in the song. Soooo good. She and Nancy Wilson are easily two of the greatest women in rock ’n’ roll.

I’m also obsessed with the percussion — that driving 80s synth-rock rhythm by drummer, Denny Carmassi. I’m fascinated by the 8th note high hats, and synths, too. Okay, yeah… I geek out over how songs are constructed!

Have you ever listened to the podcast, Song Exploder? Musicians deconstruct their songs piece by piece and tell the story of how they were made. Brilliant. You can find it on Apple Podcasts and elsewhere.

I love the entire Bad Animals album, but for whatever reason, Want You So Bad keeps pulling me back in. It’s become my fave.

Madison Cunningham’s My Full Name is a piano-driven opening single from her most recent album, Ace. The song sketches the bittersweet, vulnerable journey of navigating heartbreak and self-discovery. Perhaps there’s a theme in the songs I’ve had on repeat lately? LoL!

I genuinely think Cunningham is one of the greatest songwriters today. Her writing is so intricate, layered, technical, and her voice carries a dreamy quality that pulls you in. She’s known to be an indie folk, alternative rock artist with some jazz influence. You just have to listen!

I’ve also found myself revisiting Kalandra lately. I previously posted my favorite song by the group, With You. Based in Oslo, the band formed around Katrine Stenbekk (vocals), Jogeir “Juno” Jensen (guitar), Florian Sommer (bass), and Oskar Johnsen Rydh (drums). Their sound is a mix of atmospheric Nordic folk, alternative pop, and ethereal post-rock, a little reminiscent of AURORA if you’re familiar with her style.

Stenbekk’s voice is so pure — the way she moves into her upper register is truly unreal. There’s something both haunting and cinematic about the band’s music.

I just get lost in music, disappear for hours at a time.

So, what do you have on repeat these days? Would love to know. Drop a comment below!

Put on your headphones and turn up the volume!

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.

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!

Lotus Summer

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Greetings! I’m enjoying the last few days of summer before I head back to work. Tomorrow. I must say, I look forward to Fall and the change of season. Mabon falls on September 22nd, which gives me something to look forward to. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, summer has been immensely restorative; I’ll refer to it as Lotus Summer. Lotus flowers are deeply symbolic in many cultures. Lotuses grow in murky, shallow waters. They rise from the mud without stain, and are therefore viewed as a symbol of purity. Because they return to the water in the evening and open their blooms at the break of day, lotuses represent strength, resilience, and rebirth, as well as transcendence: The lotus symbolizes the human spirit transcending over worldly matter since it blooms from the underworld into the light. I feel, in many ways, like the Lotus.

It’s been a summer of exploring themes around death and rebirth, cycles, beginnings and endings, blooming, rising up from the mud. When last semester ended, I was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. It dawned on me recently how little I accounted for the impact of divorce on my wellbeing. I was functioning on adrenaline those first several months of the divorce proceedings. And when it wore off, I plummeted. I’ve discovered that there’s much literature on the impact of divorce on individuals, how it affects their work lives, relationships, and emotional and physical health. I grossly underestimated my ability to manage work, the loss of my dog and support of my daughter, financial instability, three moves, starting over. I thought I was stronger, better, more capable, more confident. But I sank, and I’m usually a stronger swimmer than that.

It’s now late summer – Rebirth. I am standing, not sinking. The divorce no longer feels like a black hole. There are moments of deep sadness and grief. I’m not sure one ever gets over it completely. That’s just me. A friend of mine, a psychotherapist who divorced years ago, told me to expect a three-year-mucking-through-shit; my sound healing mentor, also divorced, said give it five. I rolled my eyes. How little did I know. It’s year two.

I read recently,

The lessons we learn along our journey and the pains that come along with them are but stages on the wheel of regeneration.

Death Doula Oracle – author & photographer – Theodore Saint & Chris Williams

Indeed. So much gratitude for the time off to recover, to regenerate. Solitude and rest were the medicine, and making the request to change my 12-month contract to academic year may have saved my life. I have spent everyday this summer writing and recently took to collaging my journals. Can’t wait to collage my next. Also into drawing dragons of late. Interestingly, I barely listened to any music; much more preferred silence. The only other time I could not bear to listen to music was after the death of my first dachshund, Peppermint. I’m slowly weaving my way back to some favorite artists and bands from the 80s – that era holds a certain nostalgia in my heart that’s quite comforting. And, I miss my younger self. I’ve shared a few moments of summer inspiration here.

And, on I go. Wishing you all a beautiful day. Stop and marvel at the tiny things that bring you joy and pleasure. May you tend to the soil of YOU!

-Photos above were taken at Laguna Beach, CA, by moi on a venture with a friend.

-Yummy matcha coffee & garden pics taken at Anima Mundi Apothecary in Venice, CA.

-My collaged journal-Summer theme: Death/rebirth/exploring the shadows within.

-Little dragon ouroboros drawing-not yet finished, but I’ll eventually get to it.

-Purchase the Death Doula Oracle cards here. They’re powerful cards for working with themes around transition, transformation, death, endings and are absolutely gorgeous.

Feature Photo by Kristijan Arsov on Unsplash

The Magick of Slowness

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Hey out there! Hope you’re having a swell summer. The temperature here is not yet sweltering, so I’m enjoying windows open daily. I’ve been on summer break just over a month – it has been glorious. There is a magick in this liminal space, the in-between semesters, that has brought healing and restoration. I am no longer who I was, yet I am not quite who I am to be. Last year was tough, maybe one of the toughest I’ve ever experienced, but it had its life lessons, and I am taking them to heart.

I’ve been savoring slow mornings, slowing down in general. It’s lovely to leisurely sip my morning coffee without rushing. I have not missed disconnecting from others one bit. Journaling, personal study, spirituality have all been life saving. But mostly the magick of slowing down, sweet silence, the echo of presence, noticing each breath have led to divine surrender, wisdom, and liberation. 

Summer break will come to an end, and I will return to work mid-August. The test of wisdom will come in finding divine balance, countering stress and the pace of work with a solid inner spiritual foundation, finding the power within to face each and every challenge. There is this – I have the rest of the month to indulge in solitude and cultivate my inner divine badass.

The video below is of female French trio, Les Itinérantes. I adore them and recently discovered their music. I find this song, Sahèl, to be quite powerful.

“Sahèl” is a composition in Eldali (a language invented by Elodie, one of the vocalists) that invites you to reconnect with “the source,” to rediscover meaning and roots through a connection with the living, the pursuit of authenticity, and the recollection of ancient memories.

“Sahèl anouvel iè,
Vènia assoulèkh na
Sahèl anoukrie biè,
Chakh liè bioun èlia”

The source is calling for you over there
Approach, let yourself be guided
The source roars below
Join its flow if you dare.

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

life is anything but…

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Hello World. I moved this week over Spring break. Thankfully, I had the week off. My third move in two years, post divorce. It’s been rather stressful. Don’t get me wrong, I love my new place, and the area is terrific. It’s very small, yet much closer to the beach. I have gone back and forth to Goodwill to donate stuff all week, and still, there are boxes of stuff, a closet full of stuff, and wall art that won’t work in the space. I think I may have to sell my digital piano, as it doesn’t fit anywhere. I sold my newish dining table and other things to decrease stuff. I am trying not to complain, as I truly love the area. And the neighbors on either side of my unit seem great. It’s just been tough, and I’m heading back to work next Monday. More to do, as my car is also having issues that must be addressed. Tomorrow, I’ll spend the day at the automotive shop. Timing, it feels as though I’m swimming upstream. I’m staying put for as long as possible!

The week before the move, I began having panic attacks – again. Haven’t had one in a while. I’m grateful they weren’t as bad as others. No ER or EMTs. I moved due to a feral cat situation at my last rental that never went away. The cats continued to poop on the property. A month before I decided to break the lease, the homeowner finally addressed it by putting rock on the front lawn and wire on the fence in the backyard as deterrents. It did very little, as the cats continued to show up, as though to say, “Stupid humans; we own the place.” The neighbor next door feeds and cares for the cats and has done so forever. So if anyone were to go, it was me. Homeowner refused to release me from the lease, which doesn’t end until July 1st. It has just sucked all around.

I hope that moving will eventually bring peace of mind. My car was starting to smell like cat poop – gross! Okay, so this is the end of my little rant. I know somewhere there’s a rainbow.

Photo by Illiya Vjestica 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

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

Happy November 1st

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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

tiny ache

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What is this tiny ache
that swells
behind my heart?
A worry, sorrow, dismay?
Please let it soon depart!

How restless are my days,
wondering what is yet to come.
Roads closing into silence,
every step undone.

Where is this life of ease
that others swear exists?
It flickers like illusion,
always just out of reach.

If I could trust myself enough
to quiet all my fears,
perhaps this ache inside my chest
would finally disappear.

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash

the raven

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my dear friend, the raven,
has a certain kind of MAGICK
dressed in black from head to tail,
has a flair for the dramatic
such a sooty bird is he,
flying fast on graceful wingbeats
watch him dive across the sky
an aerial acrobat and artful spy
fills the blue with an echoing croak
he’s a brilliant trickster under cloak
see him vividly in my dreams,
casting charms as i sleep
bringing change and ancient wisdom
reminds me of all i am to become

a little creek

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there’s a mossy little creek

where i like to sit and think

a shallow slope to mull and dream,

where glossy water babbles midstream

i skip barefoot ‘cross the river stones

earth and fire in my bones,

behold the current gently flow,

carrying my dreams safely home

Photo by Maddox Howe on Unsplash

howl at the moon

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i hear Nature summoning
run wild through the trees,
taste my youth on the tip of my tongue
at home in this body, in this evening breeze

a midnight stroll through the green,
to exorcise the ache
howling fiercely at the moon
like some secret language

shadow of trees and cloak of leaves–
a romance the dark nourishes,
as though turning the pages of this life,

and

the

windy

path

diverges

Photo by Unsplash in collaboration with Getty Images

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