LOVE


love rock pink

I’ve been swimming in love’s Caribbean blue. Diving down to explore. I’ve found a huge living breathing love reef. I explore the complexity, what clings to my coral, grows on it, decorates it, burrows into it. Yes, that’s me teeming with love fauna. Every piece of my soft underbelly that might break off with time skitters and pulses with love, with life.

The deeper I dive into my truth, my love and my self, the easier it is to swim.  I don’t need to come up for air as much. I frolic. I’m like the Whales that have been playing and eating in the ocean off of Redondo.

I dove a little deeper on Friday.

I dove and drove way out of my comfort zone to UCLA. (Have you been down Wilshire Blvd. in Westwood lately? Yikes!) I took a deep breath and swam through the sculpture garden and came up for air in Public Policy.

I was invited to guest lecture. I spoke to 70 + students who majored in Business or Econ.

The class was engaged and asked a lot of questions.

The professor invited me back.

Someone from the humanities department took me to lunch.

She asked if I’d come speak to Humanities, English; if I’d participate in a panel.

YES

YES

YES

Ahhhhhhhh

As I left North Campus, making that familiar right turn onto Hilgard, I felt a wave of emotion move through me.

I had stepped into a greater appreciation for myself. I realize that for fear of bragging, I’ve diminished some of my accomplishments. I didn’t want to sound like so many people I meet. “And then I did this and then I did that and me me me me me!”

I know that harsh tinny blinding glare–the sharp, pointed light of someone trying to prove something. I read it in newsletters every day. They’re trying to sell me something. They’re me-ing me.

I used to have this friend. She would analyze me. She’d come to my house, step into my office wearing a tool belt complete with hammer, nails, a yellow highlighter and a Freudian textbook. She was ready to analyze, diagnose and repair. Once she told me that I was holding onto extra weight because I was insecure, that I was afraid of intimacy. She was incorrect. I was holding onto extra weight because I had just had a miscarriage.

Here’s the irony, that’s her issue, not mine. Projection.

Interesting. I see her posts on Facebook. We are still “friends” there. I’ve read some of her newsletters. I watch as she bobs on the  surface of herself.

My wish for her would be to dive deep. I know that diving deep isn’t all colorful fish and blue waters. Sometimes it’s dark and scary. I’ve gone down and I’ve wondered if there was any life force down there at all. Our strange creatures, anglerfish, and giant squid live deep, their tentacles reaching. Evolution has shaded their eyes

Dive down, come back, open your eyes, see and feel.

I own it. My mistakes. My faults. My history. I take responsibility. If you’ve read my poetry, you know some of it ain’t so pretty.

I think if that old friend were to analyze me today, I’d have a different response. Or I might not respond at all, because sometimes people can’t listen to what might be true. It’s too hard and so they reflect and deflect and project. It doesn’t matter what she’d say or do now or then, that’s the beauty.

All that matters is love. Love of self so you can Love others.

Ego=fear

Light=Shine=LOVE.

Valentine’s Day Wish

May you turn on your light,

May you dive into your glow

May you shine

May you shine

Baby SHINE!

From the inside out…

From you heart, not from your head.

 

Love yourself

Love love love

Wrap your arms around yourself and LOVE!

Wishing you a LOVEly Valentine’s Day,

Happy LOVE LOVE LOVE!

 

Write on,

 

carolyn first only sig

Be The Field

 

drop

thirsty for a drop of
movement
a splash
onto my white
primer
a brush stroke
a swirl
a splat
a drop even

paint mesunset depth
like sky
with orange and blue and pink and green and purple and
violet and…
perspective and light and black and cloud and
depth

the sea rages on
churned red brown ocean
foams sepia
hurls herself at the sand
seaweed pulled piles
gasp and bubble

today in Texas
the hale was the size of grapefruit
ruby red splatters
fed
cracked hungry earth

Deepak Chopra says
“you are a field of all possibilities”

sea rages onfly with the birds
ride with the waves
dive with the dolphins
slurp up the brine
left on shore
let it spill over
drip down my chin
make a mess
of perfection

 

 

as I breathe in
I am the field
as I breathe out
of all possibilities

Moments

 

I saw the color of the earth reflecting off treeshugemoon

and sky and night.

The moon called out to me.

Sun was gone.

Day slept.

I sat wide-eyed.

My heart stopped singing.

Life is still.

It fills itself like a lung or balloon

with air or grief or joy or emptiness.

My self knew this

until the silence rose

like mist

from my chest.

I knew then

each moment mattered

until now.

 

 

 From my upcoming book, to be published soon.

The First of The First

It seems significant

Somehow

Not in the dramatic, back of my hand to my forehead, eyes rolling up to the clouds

A breathless, “ohhhhh, I can’t” escaping through my parted lips

Somehow

but not that

not that drama

not that floating above the earth

 

Significant somehow

In the grounding

the grounding of my heart

the grounding of my feet in the hot summer sand

the grounding of the rush of Pacific salt water that cools my purple painted toes

the grounding of my not as tight as it used to be belly

the soft curve of my hips draped in my Egyptian Blue cotton pareo, the one I bought on our honeymoon in Fiji

my strong well used calves

my dark tinted grey hairs glistening under the semi-permanent color, they catch the light of the sun in the breeze

the lines in my face when I smile, the stories sketched on my skin

the grounding, the accepting, the moment is significant

 

walking from one side to another

Stepping over a line, imaginary and considerable

into a window, a door, a passage way

a feeling in my heart that is 20 or 30 or 18 or 40

a contemplation

a knowing–it is all relative

To my neighbor who is 65 and her husband who is 73

I am young

We are young

We leave their house after a nice dinner on a warm Saturday night

we walk across the street, barefoot, arm in arm

we are laughing

food and wine, history and stories fill our bellies

They watch us go, they turn to each other and smile,

“They are so fun, but they are so YOUNG” they laugh

 

To my neighbor three doors down starting a life with a new born and another on the way

With no children

With a husband, two cats, a working sailboat, an open calendar, a career, my writing, creativity, the freedom to come and go and a blue sky and experience, I am what…

Who am I as I turn this corner?

 

That is my question to answer, to understand and explore, as I,

with pen in hand

turn this corner

start down this slice

of road