The Awakening Soul

...And all of the sudden, your eyes flutter open, the images in your world sharpen, sounds come into focus, and you realize you have awoken... 

you've arrived to the wide awake happiness your soul was quietly searching for. 

Somehow, for years, you've been wandering through life in a foggy slumber, 

letting muscle memory lead you through your day to day, without realizing you're not exactly alive, 

not exactly dead.... 

you're just existing to exist allowing the brightest parts of you to be dusted over with silent discontent. 

The enemy lies in the darkest parts of our minds- we call him many things…

Comfort, Contentment to name a few…. 

...and don't always realize when he has lulled our fire into its deepest slumber 

only to be awakened by the bright spark of change. 

You stand in the sunlit room, beaming light and fire out into the universe, 

pulling off the cobwebs of living in the past burning them into particles of stardust with your passion for the unknown…the precipice of growth underfoot urging you to jump, to fly, to soar and conquer the beautiful world hanging at your fingertips. 

Stretching your wings you confidently nosedive into the brightly colored future, 

lighting your path with merely the love in your heart, 

there’s nothing between you and your wildest dreams now- 

they’re all yours for the taking. 

Own this future, love this world, 

let the passionate fire burning brightly within your soul light up the darkest nights- 

you’ve arrived to your next destination.

I Am. I Was. I Want To Be.

I am in my late thirties. I choke on that every single time I speak or write it. 

I don't feel late thirty, two years and three weeks from forty… 

Living in a one bedroom apartment with an epic view of the Golden Gate Bridge from my 64 inch living room window. 

I don't feel like my thirties are almost over, I feel like I should have more time. 

Time to explore, time to dance until the sun comes up, time to drive up and down the pacific coast highway breathing in the scent of the ocean air. 

I feel like there should be more time….. I need like 5 more years in my thirties. 

I am 3 weeks away from 38 years old. How did that happen?

**********

I am a writer, a dreamer, a road tripper, a runner (metaphorically speaking), a fighter for all equal rights… 

I am a loud foul mouthed opinionated east coast progressive female who -will never truly let a man take care of her. Thankfully my marriage is as progressive as my soul.

I am a live music loving, tree hugging, composting, local buying, Mother Earth supporting woman who is outraged at what is happening in our world, in our very own country.

I am someone who will not be silenced for anyone, if I believe in it, I will fight for it. My mother taught me that- I wear those life lessons as badges in her memory knowing she would fight along side me just as loud, just as foul mouthed, just as passionate.

I am an unconditional loving friend to everyone who has touched me, loved me, accepted me for who I am in all my handfuls of high maintenance Boston Broad glory.

I am a Boston born and raised, Jersey Strong, San Franciscan open-minded passionate thinker, reader, activist.

I silently fear the unknown, yet yearn to take the leaps into it- I am the hesitant adventurer.

I thirst for knowledge, but hate school. I want to teach myself in the classroom of life, without desks, without deadlines, or structure. 

I am organized chaos.

I meditate on ocean shores, I feel my blood pump to the tides and it quiets my mind. I do yoga alone in my bedroom, I read the Bhagavad Gita to feed my soul. I put my bare feet on the earth to center myself and reduce anxiety, to calm panic. 

I am a spiritual being.

I like to dive into a world of make believe and fantasy, I believe in magic and that someday I will unlock and tap into my abilities that will change the world, that will help save the world. 

I am stardust.

************

I used to be fearless, I acted without inhibition, I made choices that set my life back years at a time. I jumped before I thought things through- I ran when life got real… I shirked responsibilities. 

I was immature and unprepared.

I was a rebel without a cause, without reason. I hurt deeply on the inside, which made me cut others deep on the outside. I wore a mask of security, while inside I was an open wound of insecurity…I was careless with other’s feelings. 

I was raw adolescence.

I fell in love deep and hard without protecting myself. I attached quickly, immersed myself in another’s life fully, and put my needs and self respect last. 

I was a foolish heart.

*************

I want to be the the little force that feeds progressive change. I want to join my voice for causes that grant freedoms that some people have never known. I want to shed my middle class white skin, and let my heart lead the troops to victory. 

I want to be Political Change.

I want to plant, to get my hands filthy- I want to learn how the sun and rain affect life. I want to raise beauty and talk the seeds into food. I want to nourish, and grow and learn from each season. 

I want to be sustainable.

I want to nurture, I want to feed with home cooking- I want anyone who leaves my house to feel like they have left home. I want to be the warm hearth that helps others heal, I want to dry their tears and feed their souls, and send them feeling more loved than when they came into my home. 

I want to be the mother to all who needs her.

I want to donate my time, my love, my hands. I want to make others want to donate their lives and hearts. I want to search for the causes in need, I want to fund those causes so they succeed in protecting, helping, sheltering those in need

I want to be not for profit.

I want to publish my words. I want to spread a message that touches people. To tell a story that means something, that awakens someone from their deep slumber and pushes them to positive change. I want to share it all, real, raw, and magical. 

I want to write books that mean something.

Defined By Pools Of Aqua

Defined by Pools of Aqua

My dear sister-friend is doing a beautiful project- hind sight I should have joined her as she requested, but I don’t love writing on command. I write when inspired, I write to remove hurt, pain or to work through some things rattling around in my head. 

I should always listen to her though, no matter the miles between us, she knows me….she’s always known me and my self tortured soul. 

That being said she is working on this beautiful project where she mentioned my affinity for the color turquoise/aqua. Its been my absolute favorite color for over a decade, it slowly called to me at a time when my life was in complete turmoil and I was learning to stand alone again, on my own two feet- learning to rebuild a life that had fallen apart, piece by piece, and learning again, how to be a great friend to those I loved, but mostly to myself. 

During this time I also went from being a mousy brunette, to a bombshell blonde- aqua and turquoise just seemed to accent this new girl crawling out from the bottom of her self created pit. I was 24 years old, had just left NH and moved back to my hometown, close to my family, my childhood friends, into this gorgeous apartment with my two best girls. It was a fresh start, and thus began the wave of aqua pooling into my life without me paying attention.

It started small, curtains, a duvet… 2 work tops. Then over the course of the next 10-12 years it has wrapped me in its cocoon of protection and healing. I seek it out, if there is a wall of colors, I am immediately drawn to the not quite blue, not quite green color calling to my soul.

At this point, my bedroom is a light soft aqua, with sheer curtains that allow the light from outside to wash a Caribbean ocean blue  on the walls- there are two pieces of furniture in my living room that are teal- and my most prized articles of clothing range from a soft bright aqua hoodie to a deep turquoise sweater with sequins. Even my bridesmaids and my footwear at my wedding were adorned in a pool aqua color, and every time I look at the pictures I smile- the women who support me, and the color that saved me just make my heart smile. We have Hue lights in our apartment, with an app on my phone, I can wash the rooms with any color of the rainbow… I’m sure you can guess that when I need to calm my brain I wash the rooms with a soft yet bright aqua to teal color. 

How did I not see this happening? I understand my obsessive nature, and my need for matchy match color palates but never fathomed it was so much more.

So, until Terra spoke about her friends being defined by a color, I hadn’t ever thought of the color actually defining me, that there was a psychological need and draw - to me , this was just my favorite color. 

So I dug, I did some online research to see why this color calls to me, why it has softly snuggled me and dried my tears helping me to find a clear path. Below is the first thing I read, and it kind of blew my mind…

“In color psychology, turquoise controls and heals the emotions creating emotional balance and stability. In the process it can appear to be an emotional rollercoaster, up and down, until it balances itself”

“This is a color that recharges our spirits during times of mental stress and tiredness, alleviating feelings of loneliness.” 

I also read that when I need balance, I should bring in Magenta- funny… this color is Terra’s color. 

Kismet.

I still torture my soul, I still overthink and require soothing healing colors to surround me. I still lay under my soft fuzzy teal blanket when I need to feel safe and creative. 

I am drawn to the blue ocean, to the colors that roll in and out of shore. I’m drawn to the repetition of the sounds of water- they bring my full of anxiety mind to peace. These are the sounds of my meditation. I don’t chant, I have an extremely difficult time staying quiet…. so I focus on the sea, on the color and sounds…. on the peaceful way that it organizes our world holding everything into place with its tides. 

When I am in full chaos, I sit on the beach close my eyes and let life melt away. 

I am a soft pool of not quite green, not quite blue force of nature.

Quiet, Almost Silent Movements

There is a quiet shift happening, a movement. Something under the surface that started as a whisper, a small cry, and is slowly growing louder with each vibrant epiphany. 

The move out from a life chained to corporate slavery is happening. 

The once great American dream, full of security, 401K stability and 25 year retirement plan has begun to crumble under the weight of technology and human longing for change and progress. I’m certainly not saying that the tower has fallen and that swift change is a abreast; I am saying that joy seekers and bliss chasers have decided they can change all of the rules, they’ve decided- WE have decided to head back to the basics of life, unchained, raw, and ready to live.

There are many negative opinions around the tech movement, and while I could use less faces in phones bumping into me on the streets or at a table across from me in a restaurant, I appreciate the remote life style. 

I appreciate a life with the ability to hold all of the music in the world in the palm of my hand- a playlist for every day. I appreciate spending Christmas morning, across the country from everyone we love, with the ability to see faces full of joy on a screen as we spend precious moments “together” in different rooms in different states. 

I used to hand write and mail letters to my friends when we were apart- today I am able to push a button and see their faces in real time- what a world!

The minimalist movement, the support of small businesses movement, the slight movements in cities that bring communities closer together working towards bringing the “little people” big successes against the great corporate giants, are slowly but steadily gaining momentum. 

And maybe this is more noticeable from a progressive city with deep roots being on the “right” side of political movements, in supporting the goodness of mother earth, remembering that without her, we are truly nothing; we are a non existent species of a bad bacteria that she will soon learn how to fight off unless we learn to listen and help her thrive….though I suppose that tirade is for another novella. 

…don’t worry our dear Mother, I have a great long and supportive book of words for you, appreciating you and your graciousness knowing our time on your surface is limited.

There are professionals all over our country who have discovered, that making 6 figures a year hasn’t promised them happiness, as they thought. Cliche or not, money can not buy your happiness, it can only buy you plane tickets, momentary lapses from reality, and more things than you will ever actually need in this lifetime. It can not, however, grant you the joy and bliss that we as humans are programmed to seek. It may buy your cocktail during happy hour, but it can not buy you incredible laughter with loved ones…to achieve that kind of joy, you must first put your humanity first, and learn to love and learn to be worthy of love. 

These professionals with their big salaries and their big retirement plans, are jumping ship into the waters of the unknown setting forth on a journey to find their bliss, to find the source of the light that has dimmed over the course of a life focused on success, rather than a life focused on happiness. 

Once I hit my mid twenties, I began to thirst for adventure. I was a wilder teenager with no fear and a lot of darkness in her past, I made my not-so-great decisions, and tried all of the things that you try when you’re young and wild. Through life changing events, and a loss that cut so deep I am still healing ten years later- I subconsciously began to dream of change. 

My life had been lived in one area, with the same people, who knew all of the same people. We knew each other’s pasts, and judged each other for who we were, not giving anyone the room to be who they needed to grow into…. it was suffocatingly obvious that my time in one of the only places that I had truly known-that had truly known me, was at is end. 

I needed to fly, to run, to heal, to learn about who I was and what I truly needed out of this life. 

So, I gave up the corporate finance job, my 9-5 weekend free life, and set out for a new chapter. Suffice to say this decision may have saved my life. I was able to surround myself with like minded souls, a new kind of chosen family who understood what I was searching for… 

and while my past was rich and full of love, I was still the same girl, there, that I had always been; put in a box, labeled and tossed on a shelf in the town records- preserved as her forever.

This cycle repeats itself - I hesitate to grow roots even now, I fear the committal one place forever and still thirst for travel, change, and newness. I join in the quiet movement to finding the joy- shedding the comfort zoned life in search of doing something that ignites the flame in my soul that will blind anyone close enough to question it.

Don’t chain yourself to the life you think you should live, because it puts zeros in your bank account. Don't anchor yourself to one spot because it is the place you have only ever known- there is a huge beautiful world out there that needs us to remember the basics. It needs us to remember that we don't need all the things and stuff, that we need only the things to survive- shelter, food, clothing, and love. 

Don’t be consumed by the commercials forcing you into thinking you need- be consumed by your heart crying out to send and receive love- then send all of the love you wish to receive, and it will be so. 

Thankful for Beautiful Memories

Thanksgiving is a tough time of year for me, and every year I seem overlook how emotional I get. This happens in part because this was the mother/daughter holiday to end all others. This was my holiday with my mother, in the kitchen, for two weeks before hand, preparing each family member's favorite pie or bread, that they would snack on for the 4 days we spent at my grandparent's house in Mount Vernon, NY.

These memories.... these are the sweetest memories that I have of my mom and our family.
Actually, that's not entirely accurate, the first Thanksgiving memories happened in a small suburb in NY called Yorktown Heights- in the best split family sprawling ranch that I have ever known. But that's neither here nor there.

Our family is like no other. We have big personalities, almost all of us (yes almost) have some sort of cooking talent, we love hard, and we love deep.

We would arrive in NY about two days before Thanksgiving, or sometimes right when school break began- the drive from Boston to NY would happen in the middle of the night since the trip through CT was/is a nightmare in full holiday rush, fueled by coffee and the Beach Boys. We would arrive extremely late, and my grandmother would rush out to greet us at the car...we would carry in close to a dozen or more Pies, suitcases and whatever other Thanksgiving necessities were required.

I can still remember the smell of that house on the holidays, sweet like cookies, strong coffee, and the constant steam from the dishwasher that ran non stop from the time we arrived, until the time we left fogging up the kitchen window, should it even get closed.
The house would be dimly lit, offerings of any kind of cookie you would imagine would happen, though normally I would crash straight away while my mom and grandmother did the meal prep planning for the duration of the holiday- often times this included at least one Italian meal, obviously.

Each morning the oversized dinging room table would be filled with groggy family members, juices and coffee in hand, and more baked goods than anyone could actually imagine. I often miss my mom's banana bread where she eliminated the walnuts, since I had a cousin who was allergic and I just didn't care for them- slathered with cream cheese and a tall apple or grape juice(yes pre coffee). These were the groggy mornings that hugged my cranky teenage self awake. Through out the duration of the morning 12-20 of us would slowly rise, some very early risers to walk with Grandpa on his morning walks, and some of us couldn't be woken if a bomb went off right next to our heads  until noonish. (Right Kim?)

We would gather around the table in shifts all day, chatting, catching up, telling hilarious stories and laughing until the tears came, setting out dishes and clearing dishes. To this day I'm pretty sure that my grandmother has a  place setting of 50, of her Snow Village plates of every size and shape.

I'm not sure that I could pin point the actual turkey meal, since the visit was always one constant meal of all varieties with naps and showers in between. I do know that my mother only left the kitchen to watch football with her dad and brothers. A tradition I never thought I would hold close to my heart... but here I am, decades later screaming at the TV in her true minion form. I guess its about time to show pride to be her next generation of independent strong women  (I am sure that I will be blessed with all girls as karma for my childhood- I am not the end here).

I can vividly remember sitting in the family room, void of television, sometimes with music, sometimes with a very loud football game on the other side of the wall... as my grandfather poked and built his fire masterpiece. He took such pride in having his family under his roof, feeding us, and keeping us safe and warm. I can only imagine how his heart felt as he looked around to the different generations filling his home to the brim, I'm emotional just thinking about it.

There are times when I close my eyes and visit this place- smelling the pies and cookies and fire... hearing my mom cackle with laughter because her middle brother's dry sarcasm always tickled her to her core, though sometimes at the expense of their mother- it was always in jest with love.

I can remember snuggling with my cousins on the couch, we got together so rarely as we were spread between multiple states, each bringing our own pop culture knowledge, and wisdom of the time together in a collective unique dialogue with Mindy's infectious giggle- still my favorite.

This escape from reality likely saved me time and again. Curling up into my grandfather's arm nook as he read to me, or resting my head on my mom's shoulder as she stirred the gravy... these peaceful times, in a life that wasn't as much peaceful, got me through. They reconnected us, grounded us back to the family that made each of us possible.

So its now, no secret where my love for Thanksgiving over Christmas comes from. These moments of perfect family gatherings will forever be seared into my heart and memory. So, until I have a family of my own, I will cook for whoever will let me feed them, I will be the warmth and the joy and the dry sarcasm to those who are in need of a giggle, I will open my heart and my kitchen in honor of a woman who would spend weeks on her feet making sure everyone had their favorite dessert.
I may cry, get emotional, or take things more to heart than normal- but its only because these sweet memories mean so much.

I am thankful for these Memories.
I'm thankful to have been raised by two sets of parents willing to teach me all they knew.
I'm thankful for all of my crazy awesome, grown up, cousins and their families.
I'm thankful for my own little family.
I am thankful for local friends who have shared, and will share this holiday with us.

Happy Thanksgiving to my family, to my mom as she watches over me, and to you and your loved ones. Let it be about love filled memories of joy.

In awkward cousin fashion, we gathered to take, maybe, the last known picture of all of us together. Love and miss you guys.

Missing You Is Easy

Missing you has been the easiest part of losing you.
Living a life without you in it has been excruciating.

There have been millions of moments in the past 9 years that I wanted you to be a part of, or tell you about, or talk through all of the decisions that I've made, when I'm not sure they've been the right ones.

Missing you has been the easy part.

Walking down the aisle knowing you weren't front and center, was heartbreaking - though I was surrounded by all the love in the world.
Knowing I will face some of the most beautiful moments that life has to offer without you-without being able to tell you about it, makes it a little harder to breathe.

The day we pulled into San Francisco after 5 days on the road, in the VW with three cats and my new husband, it all hit me. The biggest change in my life to date had happened and all I wanted was to call you to talk me through my anxiety of the change.... and all I could do was look at your contact information in my phone and wonder who would answer if I actually called.

9 years have gone by.
9 years of life, changes, decisions, heartache, bliss.... and you have been missed in every single one. Sometimes I talk about it, sometimes I silently ache, but I always make it through.
Even though you aren't here with me,  you gave me the gift of your superhuman strength before you left, as a tool to cope with life without you.

I try so hard to let this day go by, unnoticed because I want to celebrate your life, and keep alive the best parts of you...but it sneaks in, tugs at my heart and reminds me of the hardest day that I have faced.
It reminds me of 9 years stuffed full of all the words I want to say directly to you, and not just to the air around me.
I will continue to talk to you, I will continue to look for signs that you are still with me because missing you, has been the easiest part of life without you.

Suffocating the Light- Ignite the Blaze

Sometimes I feel suffocated by my own sense of responsibility. This once free spirit who would fly off any weekend, anywhere has had her wings clipped by the unforgiving shears of adulthood.

But I thought I was an adult then. Making my own money, seeing music live that nourished my entire soul, driving off into the sunset with great friends and big dreams...

Here I sit today, staring into a gray sky which has been gray for weeks never-ending.
Like the kind of gray that slowly creeps into your subconscious and reminds you of everything you've sacrificed; reminds you of those sunny days outside with, quite literally, not a worry or care in the world, beer in hand...
...where did that life go? Where did that girl go, because thinking about running off for a weekend with a small bag and CD case gives me major anxiety.
That money could go into savings, for a house, for kids, for college for kids we don't have that we're not sure we even really want(ok maybe we do but still)...
These are the things that plague my mind in my spare, or anytime really especially when they sky is a constant shade of light and dark gray, sun up to sun down.


Gray Sky. Gray Soul. Omnipresent suffocation, up on the mountain of responsibility. My how thin the air is....

Seriously though, how do I change this?

I have made some purposeful steps in manifesting what I want out of life. Weaving together the delicate silver strands of hope, talent, desire, bliss, freedom, creativity.

....God, I miss feeling wildly creative.

I've taken to reading a lot. Thinking that these stories plucked from someone's mind's eye, will ignite the flame of my creative soul, waking her up, to stay...not to spark and sputter and then eventually suffocate in my perfectionist's need of holding myself to unbelievable standards.
I get that from my mother.
We can never live up to our own expectations... shit how can anyone else?

When I was wild and free, and life started to catch up with me, I thought that to truly be happy I just needed to be completely, and financially responsible.
Bills paid.
Apartment clean and organized.
Healthy home cooking.
Sturdy Monday through Friday job, with benefits- 401K for extra points.
Very little debt.

Here I am.
My bills are paid, my apartment is normally in perfectly organized working order, I am housewife extraordinaire in the kitchen, and my job has been very good to me in so many ways-  oh and by 2017 we should be out of debt.

but I'm not feeling it....
not feeling the bliss, the excitement of adventure.... not feeling this life that I've created, no matter how great it really is.

I want a creative position. I am so appreciative of my job, but I am a writer, a creative being full of technicolor dreams bursting out of me at my best.
This is dulling my my shine. All of it. My suffocating responsibility is snuffing out my light, so how do I turn it into an ignition of my blazing fire?

I'm not done... I can't be done. I have A LOT more to say. Fuck you if you think you've peaked, self, you surely have not.

I wanted to make a difference.
Whenever they asked me in school what I wanted from my life, I always said "I want to make a difference in this world"- even then, I was a little PositivePolly kinda gal.
I've carried Polly with me through all of the amazing sunrises, and sunsets that would melt your heart with beauty, and she's probably the one who takes my hand and helps me cross through the gray skies...

I refuse to think that the death my mother, 8 years ago, snuffed out my light- her death has changed so much in my life and changed so much about me....but, I didn't die with her, I live in celebration of her. I am all of the good things that she had to give to the world, without all of her regrets...

Get out of your own way... isn't that usually the reason we plateau after a great crescendo?