I Miss Everything.

Source: thehorrorzine.com via Allana on Pinterest

My cries are deep these days.

*They aren’t the same cries of my adolescence where I’d sit in bed listening to slow music, feeling sorry for myself. No, these cries do not spawn from that space of pity. They come from some place else.

I want more. I have more. I seek relief. I have relief. I ponder destiny. I realize destiny. Nothing makes sense any longer. What I had is no longer good enough. I’m lost. Then found. I cry these deep cries. When I take breaths, I remind myself of a baby who keeps gasping after a painful outburst.

Where is this place I have come? Does anyone know it? Who am I now after losing so much, and feeling as though I’ve gained so little? Where do I begin to let the river flow again? My heart is bleeding out. I miss everything. And, there is that cry again.*

*random words in the moment of one of those deep cries. Don’t even know if it makes sense, but there it is. Maybe someone can relate. Maybe not, but it’s out now. 

The Soul Reporter.

The Deep.

Source: cloggo.tumblr.com via Sara on Pinterest

Everything comes from the deep.
Life is informed from the deep.
We have access to the deep.
A clear channel from deep

A foundation is laid,
Which we now stand upon.
This foundation continues to move
deeper and expand.

I see small flowers beginning to blossom.
Life will begin to sprout from
The richness of the deep.

What we see outside in our lives
All comes from the deep.

The Soul Reporter

Do You Know Fear?

Today’s Soul Report: Fear

Fear. Perhaps as great a mystery as love. As God.

A man approaches me, and asks me for a ride. Fear. A stray dog in the path I walk. Fear. Too much caffeine. Fear. Out of the blue. Fear. My only remedy: get present.

Notice the white butterfly on the path. In the dead of night when fear grips. Feel the cool sheets under my hand. Get present.

If you can control fear, you either dont know it or are an enlightened master. In my fear the sound of a small lizard in the grass sounds like a mountain lion waiting to prance. A man walking could be a rapist.

Do you know fear?

The water feels like a friend. I walk beside it. As I walk, I open up more fear. As I walk, it releases. As I walk, I open up more spirit. As I walk, it releases.

Whatever is your mystery, Fear, you’re a viable opponent.

***Words, which surfaced and photos I snapped during my walk today.


Trying to be Alone

Today’s Soul Report: A Writing/Walking Meditation (written several weeks ago)

I am called forward by the sound of a bird. It is the only sound I want to hear. Soon I hear them all:

traffic noise that I don’t want to hear;

a wind chime;

an old porsche- the driver pushing on the gas to get it to rumble;

a child’s laughter, and the sound of water hitting the car as its being washed by father and son;

a weed whacked.

I see: 

a tiny lizard running deeper into a bush;

groceries being taken out of a car;

two friends talking loud. A young boy paaaes by on his cell phone;

a young mother walking her baby.

There are too many out today. But who am I? No one more special than the next. 

More birds. A place in the shade;

they turned on their front yard fountain. No one home to listen.

All of these beautiful spaces with no one to sit and listen, to the fountain. The birds. 

I feel:

it is hot. Sun exposing me;

I have a great opening line. I’m afraid to go deeper;

I don’t want to see people or have them see me;

like the lizard that runs to the dark everytime a footstep is felt.

I want:

a writing room. The one I see in my imagination. More like a cottage. Moved away from the main house. I walk there with my tea. Smiling. Ready to enter.

I am: 

selfish I’m sure. To want nothing but birds. Wind. Quiet. A cottage to write that only I enter into;

aware I created a life before knowing who I was. This life now makes me feel confined- in moments;

longing for a life that will one day come. But, only after the kids are raised and the money is raised. The career established. Or am I just being dramatic?

wandering the streets to try and find a space that is just mine.

I know the pursuit is selfish. The longing of it makes me unhappy. Soon I will enter my over priced rental. Family of four. No room to write. Only a wall space between the bedroom closet and drawers. My husband will probably be in there sleeping. It’s Saturday. I will feel pressure to join the family.

I hear be grateful being chanted from the positive thinking cult on my left, and on my right I hear some form of my dad and the Buddha tellling me it’s too bad I lost my desire to only be useful- and nothing else.

I find a place. I’ve been here before. It’s on a graffiti filled rock. Above the Rose Bowl. The only space where there’s shade. I see people have been here. But no one is here now.

What’s the rustling in that bush? Probably another lizard.


The pain & the suffering of my mind is not me.

It swirls in and around me, but it is not me.

It is like a wind, sometimes gentle, only lurking.

Other times, it is fierce, and comes with great gusts that knock me down…Until

I realize it is not me, only wind of my mind passing through.

And than, the question becomes, Do I allow it pass through me or do I hold it, and allow it to become alive in me?

If I hold it in, I become the hallowing wind and use my fury to destroy, and disconnect.

If I allow it pass through, I am left with what is in me, a glowing rock within;

Solid, strong, constant.

Unbendable, unable to destroy or be destroyed, unable to disconnect or be disconnected by the winds of my mind.


Originally written in 2002

>Hide & Seek


Hide & Seek

Yuhoo, where are you?
Are you lost again?
Where do you go?

Don’t you know I need you, especially now when my life is so out of balance?
What do I have to do to get your attention?

Get sick?


What? What was that you say?
Be still?
That is all I have to do?

I will have to try that, but now I am too busy.
Make time for your self….Listen to the Voice Inside the Silence.
Longer post coming soon. Thank you for your support.
The Soul Reporter

>Who is This Woman Happy


Who is this woman happy?
Free and natural, full of laughter

In a place that was sad
For a moment, I noticed it was me
And questioned, When did this happen?

But I went on with the laughter of
What is me
Going, unwilling and unable to question this outburst of joy.

I am the joy! I am the happiness!
It is me, oh so naturally me.

>This is What I AM


The pain and suffering of my mind is not me
It swirls in and around me, but it is not me
It is like a wind, sometimes gentle, only lurking
But most times, it is a great gust that knocks me down….
I realize it is not me, only wind of my mind passing through

The question becomes, do I allow it to pass through or do I
Hold it in, and allow it become alive within me?
Holding it in I become the hallowing wind, and use my fury to destroy and disconnect.
Allowing it to pass I am left with what is ME;
A glowing rock within
Solid. Strong. Constant.
Unbendable, unable to destroy or be destroyed. Unable to disconnect or be disconnected-
By the winds of my mind.

This is what I AM