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

Stand in the Truth of Who You Are

From February 2008. 

It is as if I built a beautiful house brick by brick-

from the foundation to its steeple roof-

and then stood outside of it afraid to go in.

For years I’ve done nothing but Soul Work– and then I walked away (or so it seems)- afraid and embarrassed to stand in my own essence that I worked so hard to uncover.
Instead of standing, I have wandered within the chaos and untruths, wondering what is wrong.
I realize I am standing in the wrong place.
It is time to stand where I belong.
Where do you stand? Where do you belong?

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


For those caught up in the political circus, fed up with mankind, and who have fantasized about leaving the world behind~  a poem/post from my father:

Withdrawal by Louis DiVirgilio

I’m leaving behind the rest of my kind, and removing myself from the race.
I’m washing clean society’s scene, and rinsing my mouth of bad taste;
Withdrawing from muzzled mouths, machine-gunning blanks words with each round;
From too polite salutations and too contrived departations;
From the printed accounts of gruesome, terrible crimes;
From the noise and the dirt and the slum and the grime,
I’m leaving this ocean of bullshit far, far behind.

As the earth spins in orbital glide, the sun shades its back and lights its front side.
Untolded lives end with the night, untolded lives begin with the light.
Life seems to float on a pool of extremes,
Flowing from best to worst or worst to best, with occasional levellings.

I’ll not be swayed. I am determined to leave, and once gone there will be no weeping on
my shirt sleeve.
Withdrawing from an economic mutation: freeze enterprise, castlepolism, and presschasing
power; from increase the exports, decrease the imports, tariff davenports, duty free
whiskey quarts; from inflate the dollar, deflate its value, tax all the income-who is the victim?
From grow with the country-consume a T.V.; use a lawyer regularly to gain a 3% rate in G.N.P.
From inflation, taxation, and money orientation, I am taking leave of it all, and I’ll burn my credit cards as a symbol of withdrawal.

As the earth spins in orbital glide, the sun shades its back and lights its front side.
Untolded lives end with the night, untolded lives begin with the light.
Life or death, dispositions of mind, where place the emphasis?
The decision is mine.

I’ll not bend. My mind is made up. I’m withdrawing from a political circus that features
corrupt; from the codes and statutes obstructing my time; from the courts and their
justice, mentally blind; from the in-forms, the out-forms, the forms for forming forms, and the formed forms from forms. Take all the forms, roll into a wad then blast it into orbit and form a new moon.
I’m leaving. I tell you, and it isn’t too soon.

As the earth spins in orbital glide, the sun shades its back and lights its front side.
Untolded lives end with the night, untolded lives begin with the light.
There are flowers that open full bloom to the sun, and close tight to the moon;
Accommodating the change of day in a most thoughtful way.

I’m leaving! and when I’m “safe in my sylvan home, I’ll tread on the pride of Greece and Rome.
Safe I’ll be, without ambiguity. Safe I’ll be separate from society. Safe I’ll be withdrawn from
that which annoys me.

Egad! I am a fool. To escape is mad. I am only accepting the good part of the world while
withdrawing from the bad.

I’ll use flower wisdom: accept life’s extremes, then accommodate the differences as my
awareness deems.

I am going to stay; mingle with my kind; accept all behavior as human and where I can,
adjust and refine.

To read the rest of the post, go here, to the Seeking Truth Blog. 

You- not you over there. You- right here.

Today’s Soul Report: Scrubbing the Toilet

I was making rather merry this weekend celebrating my 13-year anniversary. So, today back to Soul Reports.

Last night, some of us were on the red carpet (and if you were, and reading this, I want to say, hey—–(shout-out)) while others of us were scrubbing toilets (and if you were, and reading this, I want to say, hey—-). Yeah, you are just as special as those glowing beauties at the Globes. At least these were my thoughts as I scrubbed my toilet, folded laundry, and cleaned the sink during commercial breaks.

I used to feel inferior. Let down. Dismayed. Why aren’t I on the red carpet? Why aren’t I important? Well, back then it seemed like a perfectly rational thought. Today, however it makes me laugh. Ummm- I am not an actor. I don’t make movies. Why the hell would I be on the red carpet? They are where they are because they did the work to be where they are. Simple, therefore no need for pity and drama and cry baby fits of, why me? 

So, as I scrubbed my toilet I thought~ I am cleaning and santizing and beautifying my home for my family. A worthy, worthy purpose. Seriously, I said this. Wasn’t it Mother Teresa who said, “We cannot all do great things, but we can do small things with great love.” This, my soul searching friends, is a great leap for me. And here is why….

The last few days, I’ve been saying these simple words to myself- I want my life. I want me. It is like, duh. Of course, I want me. I want my life. That’s all I got, but that’s not how I’ve been living. Like many of us, I imagine, are busy looking at other people’s lives and because we are inundated with the glamorous lives of others, it’s easy to think ours is obviously not that great, and that somehow we must be failing.

For some crazy ass reason, I watched two episodes this weekend of Kim & Kourtney. What I saw were these people, although beautiful (well, in my opinion Kim), wealthy and going around making appearances, had drama and instability in their relationships and their character failed to charm. To expand on this “reality”/celebrity hyped-culture, I will share a little poem I wrote as part of a “contest” my daughter got me in as she kept posting her quirky little poems on my Facebook wall (warning- by posting this, you might have changed your entire opinion of me, for it is a little weird):

You’re listening to Martin Luther King. Smeagol found a ring. It’s the darndest thing. You think it’s all about lemons and love, but really its about fishnets and gloves.         The shallow shall prosper. The weak will intensify. The spirit is petrified. God (and Martin Luther King) are mortified. And your mom’s rhyme can’t help but be philosophized. 

The point is- our spirits are petrified (and thankfully can never die). It appears the shallow are prospering, and the weak are intensifying. I am not one to give God a personality so I don’t actually mean he is mortified (it was said for the art). But—-if you are like me, thoughtful of the soul, and more than fishnets and gloves- then take heed. We are the ones to settle this greed.

Okay- enough of the poetry. But really. And maybe that is not your call to heed, but whatever it is- when I began this post what I really wanted to say to you (and also to me, as I do) WANT YOUR LIFE. Want you. There is no one like you. No one- in all that you can do. Okay, I can’t seem to stop rhyming. 

And here’s why it is important to declare that you want you. That you want your life. Because if we do not, we miss what is sitting right at our nose, maybe closer. There are opportunities right where we are at, but if our eyes are on the red carpet and we aren’t even there, or on Kim Kardashian, and we aren’t even her, then how can we be us? How can we see what’s in our life, right now? How will we ever know what we are capable of? How many lives we can change, whether it’s only our own, or our families, or even the world?

This declaration seems like such common sense, but as we know common sense is not so common, so today I thought I’d share this very common sense. Say to yourself, I want me. I want my life and watch what unfolds (even if it’s scrubbing a toilet).


The Soul Reporter