How Do You Love?

Do you love in the light?
Do you love in the dark?

Do you wait until someone needs it most?
Do you give it recklessly unto anyone on your path?

Do you hide it?
Does it scare you?
Does it embarrass you?

Do you flaunt it?
Does it make you proud?

Do you love loud?
Do you love silently?

Do you love in crowds?
Do you love in solitude?

Do you love on a boat?
Do you love in a city?
Do you love in the country?

Do you love in the every day?
Do you love only on special occasions?

Love is love. 
Love is love in the light and in the dark.
Love is love, given carefully and given recklessly.
Love is love, in hiding and in plain sight.
Love is love, scary and bashful. 
Love is love, even when boasted about.
Love is love, loud and silent.
Love is love, in a crowded room and all alone.
Love is love, on a boat, in a city, and down a country road.
Love is love, every day and on all special occasions. 

So, you see, love is love in all sorts of ways.
It doesn't matter how you love, as long as you do. 
Love is love and it's here to stay. 



For years I've been lugging you around,
Brown and weathered around your corners,
No rollers for convenience, no fancy decorations that make you easy on the eyes
Yet, everywhere I go, I carry you with me.

You're heavy
And I'm tired.
I'm tired of replaying the distasteful scenes.
I'm tired of reliving the moments of complete embarrassment. 
Mostly, I'm tired of the questioning.
Questioning myself, my worth, and my sanity.

I'm unpacking you.
I'm unpacking the hurtful words,
Unpacking the drinks,
Unpacking the bored, blank stares,
Unpacking the neglect,
Unpacking the worthlessness,
I'm unpacking it all.
it all.

All I'm left standing with is an empty suitcase and lessons learned.

I'll be more careful the next time I pack you up.

I'll take my time,
I'll pack the most vibrant colors, the sturdiest denim, and the warmest wools,
I'll pack the softest satins and the kindest patterns.

I'll pack things that compliment me,
I'll pack things that want to be wrapped around me,
I'll pack it all with my lessons learned and head to the train station.

Where I'll stand, with a distinguished smile and deeper roots of understanding.
I'll take a deep breath and step across that platform.

Though, the shell of the suitcase is with me, onboard the train,
The baggage of you and me, that filled it, has been abandoned and turned powerless, as my feet hit the train floor.   

Everything's lighter now, nothing too tight.
Just as my baggage, my body and my soul;
We have a new beginning. 

I'll find my seat and confidently gaze out the window,
Headed in my new direction, with my new suit case, full of possibility, and lessons learned.

Our Pain

All sorts of eyes hold it,
Green, blue, and brown.
Even people, who wear actual crowns.
Even people, on the nice side of town.

The stay-at-home mom, sipping her coffee, up before the sun
The traveller, visiting new places on the run
The teacher, sketching out lesson plans
The business people, trying to keep up with all of their demands
The photographer, shooting at every angle
The police officer, trying to do well and not get tangled
The bartender, pouring the drinks to numb the bodies that he meets
The baker, cooking up tasty treats
The painter, adding color to everything she touches
The nurse, helping the man walk out on crutches

All these people ever so free,
All these people just like you and just like me.
All these people carry a pain.
All these people, keep it deep, like a heart-stain.

You don't have to be dubbed depressed, OCD, or alcoholic
We all have pain and that's what we can call it.

Worldly pain, from being alive.
Worldly pain, from watching humans not thrive.

We all have pain and it doesn't matter who you are, where you are, or what you know
When we can see we're all in pain, that's when we can grow.

When we can acknowledge everybody hurts the same.
That's when we can switch up how to play this game. 

That's when we can offer a lending hand.
That's when we can find our bravery to take a stand.
That's when we can make our Earth, a flourishing land.

Pain is carried in all nooks and crannies of the world,
Don't hold onto it alone, but rather unfurl
Shake out your pain and speak it out loud
And I bet, you won't be standing alone, you'll be in a crowd.

Pain has no power in a sea of hope.
So, speak it out loud and let's cope.

Your pain is here for a reason.
Not sharing and utilizing your pain, should be considered treason.

Treason to you and treason to us.
Acknowledging our pain, we must.

There's not a human you can walk by, who doesn't hurt.
Let's grab hands and stay alert.
Let's see one another and soften the blows of life.
Let's dim down the brightness of all the strife.

Your pain, is my pain, is our pain.
Let's start with that.

Look of Regret

I saw it. In a crowded room. The look of regret shuddered quickly over his eyes. All those years later and in just one glimpse, I saw it. He looked at her and it was like everything clicked and he saw where he could have done better and what his life could have been.

That's the funny thing about could-have-beens, they all boil down to very small moments, where very small decisions were made. And these very small moments and decisions pile together to make monumental life-altering reactions. 

But in that glimpse, he saw it. He saw the apology that was never delivered. He saw the flowers that failed to show up. He saw a lot of late nights, where she was left lonely in the name of "fun." He saw all the time dedicated to a lot of other people, but not her. He saw vices that he had turned into her guilt. And for the first time, he saw how tender she was. He saw how he had transformed her into the tough shell she had become and that all along, her tender-heart was waiting. Waiting for his trust and stability. This woman's heart had waited years for him. The gravity of that finally sank in and he blinked his eyes. The glance ended and they were both on their way. 

They both went on to lead pretty great lives. But yet, there, in that moment, was the look of regret. The look of little moments caught up to someone. The look of, "I should have tried harder," and, "What would it be like now?"

I saw it there. It was only a moment. It was only a glimpse. It was that look of regret. 

Everyday Magic

I recently deleted my Instagram. My account is still on there and I intend on revisiting Instagram, when my soul is ready for it. For now, every time I was on it, I just felt a deep pull to delete it. I felt it was consuming my brain with other people's dreams and lives, instead of my OWN. 

Remember the days when your favorite artist was a mystery? You would wonder what special, certain someone a song was about or what kind of pain they were feeling in the moment those lyrics were scribbled onto the paper. You would wonder how they were so cool and how they could do what they did so well. You would wonder what their everyday life looked like and if you were sitting in school at that very moment; where were they?  I feel like the mystery of artists has vanished. Almost anyone you can admire these days has an Instagram page, where you can see into the intimate parts of their life. It's AWESOME. But also, takes away from the art, in my humble opinion. 

I've always been a sucker for photography and the pictures that rock me to the bones are the ones of the artists, just simply doing their craft. They were in the moment, just making music, painting a picture, designing, etc. They weren't on Instagram trying to promote themselves. Art is the promotion! Raw art with no agenda, but to simply be. And that's the space I want to create from. I don't want to feel like my writing is a failure, because I only have a couple hundred Instagram followers. (What is that!)  I want to focus on my life and my art and the gift of being on this planet. So here's to creating from sacred spaces that Instagram can't touch! 

With all that said,

I'm starting a little "blog series," on here, that I'm going to call "Everyday Magic." They'll just be simple moments that I've found lately that have brought me to my knees with gratitude. My hope is, if you stumble across this series, you too, will notice there is magic in every day. Yes, every day, in YOUR life. Look for it and it is there.


Lately, I have found magic in...

Wide- open fields to run in.

$3 Thrift store finds.

Puppy snuggles.

Grocery store runs in our pajamas and unnecessary balloons.

Shooting photographs in bushes. 

Sticky, wind-blown, night drives, under the Texas sky.

Here's to finding your everyday magic, friends!