Tag: words

The Taste of Your Words

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I miss the taste of your words on my skin,

the way they danced upon my senses

like a gentle summer breeze.

Each syllable carried a subtle electricity,

tracing delicate pathways along my flesh,

igniting a fire within.

Your voice, a sweet symphony,

wrapped around me,

weaving a tapestry of longing and desire.

It whispered secrets that only my soul

could comprehend,

a language that transcended mere words.

Your whiskey-colored eyes, deep pools of amber and warmth,

beckoned me with an irresistible pull.

They held secrets untold,

stories whispered in the flicker of a flame.

As I gazed into them, I felt myself surrendering,

willingly adrift in your captivating world.

Your essence, like a gentle breeze on a summer’s day,

cradled me, allowing me to float weightlessly

on the surface of life’s tumultuous waters.

In your presence, worries and cares melted away,

replaced by a serene tranquility.

With each stolen glance, I dove deeper,

enveloped in the spell you casted,

finding solace and bliss in the depths of your gaze.

Oh, how I ache for the intimacy of your phrases,

the vulnerability they unleashed within me.

Without them, I am left yearning,

my skin craving the delicious poetry

that once painted me in ecstasy.

~Millie America

The Magic Healing Through Words

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Since my sabbatical in November from social media something has been missing. Then came the holidays, a house full of people, and the return of another year. I still felt something was off. There is a sense of imbalance that keeps arriving when I wake to sit in meditation. A nameless sensation of emptiness that lingers. A knowing without destination. It’s bizarre and exhilarating simultaneously.

This morning I found it again waiting for me to respond to its calling. The stories have been piling up without true formulation. I just hold on to them with greed and selfishness…those of folks I’ve met that I want to savor on my own. But, they aren’t mine alone.

I gather words and stories from all walks of life. I tend to them while helping heal my own needs. And then I release them.

I want to hear your stories. I want your messages and snippets of your lives to be heard. I want to connect others to their purpose of what they desire. I crave to help pay forward love in whatever way I can….

How do we do this? How can we help one another?

We do it through groups and support. We do it sitting down and talking face to face. We do it by speaking and/or writing. We heal through connections. We begin to feel seen and heard. We feel acknowledged. We become engulfed by love and acceptance. That’s how we move through it all.

So thank you! For being here. Your words are always courageous. Your sharing is delightful. When you open yourself up you begin to heal me and you and others. Don’t ever stay silent about the things that move you, shake you, or teach you.

I love you.

The Connection

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Words are uttered onto a page

like waves gently sliding into shore –

this is my terrain

allowing the flow of emotions without hesitation.

Injunction, introduction, information and imitation

of all that lies within

through cautiousness and clarity

while consenting to the beauty of each sound

and sketching it neatly

on the script.

Sleek and slender symmetry of lines

crossing in and out

while a cursor leads the way

confessing a truth to who I am.

With each character drawn onto the page

syllables flow into a conjunction of rhythm

parading into adjectives, nouns, verbs and such.

And, then magic happens as a connection

between the word and the reader

become one

through eloquence of language

manipulated with effortless control

while letters dance around to create

one sentence,

another,

and then…an end

to a story that now engages

you

and me

for just a little while.

A Divine Present

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It comes,
unexpectedly,
like a tornado
with words crashing
against
my brain.

There is no safety.
No net.
No prelude.
No warning.

Every aspect of my spirit
gets poured
onto a page with
a surprise of knowledge,
a magical gift —

from somewhere else,
some mystical wisdom.

And I let it flow,
taking forward everything in its path,
with dry rain
of words,
of me,
of an incomplete life…

wrapped in divinity.

The Art of Negotiation

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negotiation

Every night our 2-1/2 y/o gets put into bed at 7PM. Five minutes after my husband and leave the room she starts with her negotiations:

 

“Mommy, I want drink!”

“Daddy, I need potty!”

“Heyyyyyy, I need kiss!”

“I want baby in bed.” (Whatever stuff animal or doll she requires that night)

“I need say bye to Titan!” (Titan is our dog)

“I want hug.”

Her demands vary in the degree of her desire and willingness to stay up. These negotiations don’t last more than 10 to 15 minutes. Sometimes they are ingenious. I am blown away at her ability to practice voicing her wants and needs. Kudos to the little one. Yesterday afternoon she used a new one.

We were on our way back home from seeing friends. She had not had a nap. So, as we were getting closer to the house I said, “Kali bug, when we get home you have to take your nap.” She immediately whined, “No way!” I said, “Yeah!” She stayed quiet for a few seconds.

“Mommy is my best friend.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet. Thank you! You are my best friend too.”

“Mommy, no nap to Kali.”

“Yeah…still you are getting a nap and now even more because I am your best friend. This is even a better reason for napping. Best friends get cranky and then mean, and then no more best friends. We need to rest. You understand?”

“Oh, yeah. No more cranky. And mommy and Kali bestest friend?” She questioned it so sweet.

“Yeap….happy rested best friends!”

She took her nap without a word. I give her an immense amount of credit for her ability to give it a fighting chance to get out of doing things. She’s strengthening her awareness, her argumentative gene, preparing it for the future. Who knows, she may become an attorney fighting for Humanitarian Rights because the way she tries to come up with questions and answers at this age is remarkable.

The art of negotiation begins the moment we are born. We learn that when we are hungry, wet, or need attention we cry. We scream. Then we stop until the next time that we need what we need. We are taught by our environment how to challenge the negotiations. We learn our parents’ behaviors and reactions. And, this is where we learn the necessity to be heard. We are conditioned that if we cry or scream we can be heard. Some folks spend the rest of their lives screaming for attention. Others, are heard with the softest whisper. How our parents reacted and conditioned behaviors becomes the subconscious habits of our communication skills.

Answering a child all the time,”Because I say so,” doesn’t work anymore. It’s sometimes a demeaning authoritative behavior. I want to know the why’s, what’s and how’s…and so do children. I used to say this all the time with my other 6 kids. This little one is teaching me that I need to be mindful of my reactions and behaviors. Negotiation is a two way street. I am not going to sit there and argue with a two year old, but I am going to try and make her aware of why I have made the decision. Because they understand. Never underestimate a child. They know when you are full of crap and when you are being totally real. They are born with a lie detector mechanism that lets them know you aren’t being authentic in your answers and actions.  Also, a child deserves the same attention that you would give an adult. They need to know that they matter.

Years ago I watched the famous novelist, Toni Morrison, in an interview with Oprah.  She was sharing how she wrote her first novel long hand on a notebook.  She had her children’s snot on pages, along with food stains and even some small amount of vomit. She learned, as her creativity was shooting from all directions, that she needed to pay attention to her kids.  At one specific moment she looked up and recognized that she needed to be there with whatever was going on. Her writing had to wait till they didn’t require her energy, either when they slept or went to school.  She needed to always be mindful to answering them with truth and authenticity.  I have never forgotten this interview, especially now with another young child.  I am reminded that just being in her presence is not enough at times.  She requires eye-to-eye contact and attention.  I understand because, I too, require it from my loved ones.

We grow up understanding the art of negotiations, compromises, arbitration, and mediation. There are folks walking around not being heard, because since they were children they weren’t regarded. (Who remembers that old comment: Children are meant to be seen and not heard?) There are others going around harassing the world with their negativity and illogical disposition because they were catered to their every whim and now assume the world owes them everything.

Be mindful and conscious of your negotiations and how you act and react to the world around you. Partake openly and curiously with others. Ask questions. Give answers. Don’t be afraid to voice your opinions in a loving and compassionate way. Bulldozing is not the answer. Manipulation is disturbing and disgusting as well. You have been given the ability, as a divine human being, to use your voice as a tool to make life better for others. Be aware of your tone, your language, and your energy. You are magnificent and the less ego you use to magnify your intentions, the louder you are heard. Silence is also the wisest teacher in your world! Always act accordingly whether it’s through actions or loving words. Your strength always shows through your energy.

The Loss of What Is or Not

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Loss is inexplicable regardless if it’s through death or a falling out and misunderstanding. Loss cuts deep in the core of the heart and psyche. I’ve learned a few things about this. I have been on the giving side of losing and the receiving side of loss. Sometimes it doesn’t matter what side you are on…the pain is still there. At times I even forget who was on what side of the issue.

Words have tremendous powers. They are whips that create profound welts, feathers that mend the heart, and at times, the bullet that kills everything. Perhaps because I am overly sensitive words have an extraordinary effect that is hard to forget. However, I forgive myself for words heard and used. I am human. I make a million of mistakes. I am impatient. I am the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. I am overly positive at times that I don’t see the pitfall of things to come. I do tend to be forgetful over time. And, and I carry my heart outside of my chest exposed to all who want a piece. I lay it all out there for the taking…even when ego borrows it and damages it for a bit.

The heavy rain this weekend has poured out a bunch of emotions. It’s as if heaven is crying. It stops. It starts again. It comes down like a tantrum and then slowly reduces its energy. With it all the energy of the land it is overly charged. Rain allows for the veils of here and there to thin out. The esoteric world becomes a lining of this one in a very visible manner. I have been on an exhausting emotional roller coaster taking messages from above and beyond. There’s a conscious shift happening and I am standing on the sidelines witnessing it: for me and for others.

Loss has been the theme this weekend. We all want to be heard. We all want to be understood. We all want to believe it’s not our fault when the shit hits the fan. But, part of our lessons here is that it is our fault. It’s our fault when we participate in the drama. It’s our fault when we don’t take full responsibility for our words and our actions. It’s our fault when avoidance becomes the elephant in the room. I can take full responsibility for that one. I hate confrontations. I will go around and around to make sure that something is not in my face going off at me like a hungry tiger ready to eat me. But, I also have a default and when pushed to a corner I become the tiger without a care in the world who is there. It does, however, take a long time for me to get there.

A dear friend asked me one day why I avoid getting into an argument. I have a fairy-unicorn-happy like concept. It’s not wrong and it’s not right. It just is. My belief is that if given enough time things always subdue. If allowing for the strains to energetically tire out everything returns to harmony. Then I come to realize it isn’t always so. Sometimes…only sometimes…perhaps more than sometimes…a person needs to go off. A person needs to truly be heard. A person needs to put another in their place. The bullying and passive aggressive behavior must end. But…there are always three sides to every story: mine, yours and the truth. It’s all about perception. And, I believe loss is inevitable at times. People come into our lives for a reason and a season. Whether it’s through death or through different paths, we are always going to be connected.

I met a man in the checkout isle two days ago who had Parkinson’s disease and was here visiting from California. His wife gently guiding him to put the things on the counter, while he chit-chatted about my groceries, forced me to stop and pay attention to those things not said but seen through energy and gestures. It doesn’t matter what was said…but I realized at the moment of impact that he and I were connected forever. It’s that simple. Not one person comes into your life without a reason. Believe me when I say this. Each…Single…Person…Matters!

So…with all this great amount of water on our mountain I have had the privilege of being up for hours entertaining souls and energies who have passed on, some in my memories that will never be part of my life even though they are alive, and others who are just plain old lost in time. We want forgiveness. We want to leave a legacy. One thing that I do understand and cherish is that two things matter in our lives: love and awareness of another. We only want to know we matter. We only want to know we touched another. Say your sorry’s, your I love you’s, your sweet words of acknowledgment…now…not later. Say what needs saying even when you don’t want to tackle the truth. As time passes the truth also becomes distorted. Let it go. That crap has no business being part of your today. If it pains you then it’s time to release it. You have been given another opportunity today to live. Let Divinity do its work…forgive and love. I love you. Have a blessed Sunday.

Marketing Words

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writing

I have a hard time promoting myself. I don’t know how to endorse my own creativity. I have two books out on Amazon and I rarely ever mention them. Actually, I forget they are out there. When I wrote Ballerina in a Bottle I wrote it from a dream before my life changed so drastically. The story is pretty parallel to my past. I showed it to a friend who is a writer and he suggested I finish it about a two years ago. It was like pulling my heart out of my chest with my bare hands. Excruciating! Many folks asked why I didn’t make a full length novel. The truth is that just being the length of a novela was difficult. This was part of the healing process. My other book, A Soul’s Peaceful Quest: Lessons from the Path is a compilation of my muses, lessons and stories. Many of the chapters come from blog entries which were removed once the book was out there.

Mark Nepo writes, “Often we repeat stories, not because we are forgetful or indulgent, but because there is too much meaning to digest in one expression. So we keep sharing the story that presses on our heart until we understand it all.” I never thought of myself as a writer. I still don’t label me as a writer of any kind. I am a story teller of common stories, situations and events. I share my experiences with hope that someone out there can say, “Oh my goodness, I’m not alone.” I also share them because I am working through them so I write them for me. At times the words come through and I have no clue how they arrive. Writing is therapy. It calls out in the middle of the night. It has coffee with me every morning. It recites parts of my soul while showering. It sings through the landscape while I am driving. Phrases slip into poems while in nature with every single step. Words fall out in a way that complete the pieces of me that have never been touched. At other times words magnify the essence of events, situations and allow me to heal through each letter, syllable and sentence. Many of these stories never make it outside of a computer file or a handwritten journal. They are hidden in there with the intimate parts of me. These are narrations that leave and dance in the process of exploration to rejuvenate, recharge and release the shadow parts of my essence.

I began working on a third book called Love Transcends. I also have a computer folder with thousands of poems waiting to be shared. It’s exhausting to go through my own words to clear the ones who can be contributed. I was blessed to have my fiance do the other two books and set them up for me. He is encouraging. I am forever grateful. Matt is a talented and amazing writer. Our lives have evolved into other areas that at the moment require our full presence wholeheartedly. So, I will continue to write at a snail pace until it is completed in a way I can share.

If you are ever in the market for a muse or a bit of inspiration check out those two books. I hope they will inspire you in a way that they touched me and healed my spirit. Mucho love to all.

Simplicity in All

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Sometimes you find that one soul who shows you a piece of yourself you did not know was even there.  This person can come in for a moment but the impact can last a lifetime.  At times their entrance into your life needs no words, just a glance, a gesture, or a slight touch.  Just having them come into your existence is enough to make you realize what happiness really is inside.  Life is all about the simplicities and the grace of our unions.

I can recall moments of people who have appeared as angels into my space when I wasn’t having a good day.  This has been in a check-out line, at a red light, on an isle in a store, passing by in a park, trekking up a mountain hike, or just entering our place to look at the pond.  The energy in their eyes or in their silence has spoken volumes.  These lapses in time make me aware of our interconnection with each other.  We are all small threads weaving in and out of a giant quilt.  We are all different colors, textures, and composition.  Each interweaving in the fabric allows a degree of separation, but we are all connected by the giant cloth of Divinity.

I was at a store in Downtown Asheville this morning.  I needed to get down from the mountain, be with civilization, get my Starbucks chai latte, and buy some candles (which is one of my favorite vices).  While in the isle an older woman walked by, saw the array of colors and smells in the cart, looked up at me and gave me the biggest smile, while raising her eyebrows.  I had ten different sizes and colors lined up by smells.  In that moment we laughed when she exchanged a look like, “Girl, are you expecting a power outage?”  In our silence, with huge smiles, we had a connection.  She went on to another isle. I continued my smelling routine of checking every autumn candle on sale.  As I was paying I saw she went back to the candles and picked some of the same ones that I got.  It took one moment, a few seconds, to see how happy those fragrant candles made me.  I am always giddy when I get anything with comforting smells for the house.  Happiness is contagious.  Her presence filled me with joy, and I hope that in my excitement she also filled with the indulgence of delight.

We tend to constantly hold our breaths when we are running around doing errands.  Unfortunately, we are so involved in our own minds that we forget to notice the existence of another in our realm.  With technology at our fingertips we tend to interact with the gadgets easier than with a live person.  It is impossible to know when that one angel or person will enter our space.  I bet that if you think back you can truly remember many times when a child smiled at you from a shopping cart at a store.  Their laughter was so contagious that you found yourself laughing back.  And, those seconds are precious.  They are magical.  Whether it is from a handsome man, an elderly woman, or a child, the energy exchanged is God-like at its simplest form.  Never take these moments of sheer joy for granted.  They remind us that life is sweet, kind, and beautiful.  Just like my candles, let the simplicity light up your day.

Much love and light to all!

Y Poetry?

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One of my closest friend who’s a phenomenal writer, asked me a question the other night, “What is the purpose of poetry?  Why do it?”  I gave her a short answer but throughout the last few nights I have thought long and hard on this.

Poetry is my favorite type of writing.  I have thousands upon thousands of poems.  I have no clue how many since a lot of them get thrown away.  I write one or more a day.  Do the math!  I’ve been writing since I was a little girl.  I write poetry because it tells a story in minimal words. It shows through simple phrases how or why, when and what…etc.  It requires the holding back and manipulation of allowing another (you the reader) to enter through lines of voyeurism. Fiction, narration of long stories, well, they tell you how to feel.  Poetry places it so you inhale each line and make it your own.  I don’t care about form, style, punctuation, vocabulary, or anything else that marks a poem as a literary work of art.  I want to know how it feels inside of you and you translate it into words.  Poetry, to me, is the simplicity of adjectives through emotions.

I look back at times at old pieces from years ago and the anger, frustration and sadness fall line upon line.  Yuck!  I can’t even go there but I recognize that it was a part of my life.  I held poetry imprisoned with lack of emotions.  It was forced without flow.  Some of these poems were held in shackles, bonded to some kind of structure, forcing out what I thought was good writing.  It wasn’t.  I am by no means an expert in literature.  I often times don’t manipulate English well enough to be coherent since it is my second language.  But, something is said about finally allowing poetry to write itself without control.  When a line wakes you up in the middle of the night nagging with persistence to birth it on paper, well, that’s a poem from the soul!

 

Words fall out quickly when we allow the emotions to unload onto a page.  I believe poetry is a song from the heart.  Worrying about rhyming, structure, and other important literary elements stops the flow of what is really inside.  Yes, these parts that make a poem should come way later after the words are out and about.  Let the spirit of your truth say what it needs to share.  Don’t hold back.  Allow each word to come out without restrains, handcuffs, and enforcement.  Poetry is not about sharing with an audience.  It is about releasing and surrendering.

 

So, why write poetry?  Hmmm!  I believe to exhale the gaps between the heart and the outer world.  When I write a poem I come in contact with Spirit, the part of me that finds freedom.  Any other form of writing doesn’t come close to it.  The older I get the easier each line falls out.  And, that’s why I write poetry.  It is allowing another to hold my heart in theirs for just a few seconds at a time.

 

(dedicated to A.M.)