Elephant Journal

Planting Seeds & Weathering the Storm


December 19, 2015
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Planting Seeds and Weathering The Storm

There is a seed of new romance sprouting.

I will nurture it, giving it the attention it requires. I will sprinkle it with excitement. The sun will shine right in there, and I will let it. In fact, I’ll cultivate it. I know the importance of doing it with well-intentioned admiration.

And so I will let it sprout in a way that allows my soul to face the sunshine, and any shadows to fall behind me. I will see it for the beautiful thing that it is. And in turn, I will let it show me how beautiful I am. I will appreciate it as part of nature. I will acknowledge its inevitability, but be in awe of its arising; unexpecting of its expectedness.

I promise to appreciate the realness of it. This growth has the ability to show me how to love myself a little bit more, and I’ll let that happen foremost. Just like this new sprout, my roots aren’t fully embedded yet. I have to remember that; I have my own growing to do, too. This will be a reminder to ground myself a little deeper into my own soil, to take care of myself, first. I promise that I won’t forget where my roots are.

I will let it cleanse the air my lungs breathe for a moment, but I’ll know that it’s not the only oxygen I need. I will appreciate my ability to show gratitude toward it. Appreciate my ability to not get too attached, to let it grow just as it needs. I will be mindful of my ability to recognize if it’s receiving too much water, if there are thorns that are pricking me, or if it’s time to step back and let nature take its course.

I will understand that—just like me—it is a part of nature. It is another flower within the garden that I am part of. We are growing together, yet independently. Simultaneously. I will let it do just that. I will let it be what it is going to be, let it go where it is going to go. I will let it respect me in the same way. I will let it be its own entity, just as I will stay my own. What I won’t do, is let it hinder my own growth, my own beauty. After all, a flower doesn’t grow by comparing itself to the rest.

Without the chance of some sunshine there is no chance of thriving, and so I will let it be vulnerable to the elements. I will let myself be vulnerable, too. Without the risk of the harsh forces that may break it (me) down, there’s no opportunity for the nurturing forces that will let it (me) flourish. The wind won’t be a bother if the roots are deep, it won’t distress me if my roots are deep.

In fact, the lightening might just be exactly what I need—a forest fire to help me build back up, to encourage the wildflowers to bloom. Maybe the bed of ashes is just the platform I need to ground my new roots into, the new foundation that is needed to build upon. Or perhaps this is the growth that was enabled by the last thing of nature that went up in flames.

The rain will fall, and I will see what will grow. I will embrace the elements, and see what they replenish.

I will let it grow, let it blossom, let it bloom.




Irradiating the Little Things {Poem}


May 19, 2016
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author's photo: Paige Berling-MacKenzie (not for re-use)

I like that you kiss me
with your morning breath—

that you kiss the sides of my mouth
and the tip of my nose.

I like that you tell me that you tried
to keep the light out of my face
as I dozed in the morning sun.

I like that you can’t
keep your hands off my body
and that you tell me like
the silhouette of it.

I like that, despite all of that,
there’s so much more of me
that you’re interested in.

I like that you wanted
to sleep with me,
but not sleep with me.

I like that you tell me I’m pretty,
and that you tell me to
make sure I look in the mirror
and see that for myself.

I like that you say this even though
my makeup is smeared,
my hair is messy,
and my eyes are still heavy with sleep.

I like when you start to
squint as the sun starts to rise
and that the new light makes the
kaleidoscopic blues of your eyes
look ocean deep,
with mountains that are
sky high.

I like the way you look at me
with them.

I like how much you like
when I’m sitting on the counter
or when I’m wearing your shirt.

I like that it is so hard to
get out from under the covers
when the duties of the day
call louder than our
desires to stay cooped up
together.

I like that you leave
the toilet seat up,
or perhaps just the fact
that you’re around
to do so.

I like that we have
fallen together,
no sooner or later
than we should have,
and that we simply just fit so
perfectly.

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