Happy Valentine's Day

Is it ok to be a sap and gush a little about my Valentine's date? Just because this year is the first I've officially had a Valentine's day date? Still no? Then go away, cause I feel like gushing over how sweet my weekend with my man was!

Friday night I had a family commitment, so my romantic weekend didn't start until Saturday. I waited all morning for the dance class I would see my boyfriend at, then flirted with him across the room as leads and follows were lined up on opposite sides of the room to learn their respective parts. When the leads and follows came together again we rotated partners, so every time I got to my man I gave him hugs and kisses before we fell into practicing the moves we were learning.

The dance lessons went great (we'll see how much we remember next week...), but after four hours we were both ready for a break. I walked with him to his car to see what the surprise he told me he had was - raspberry jelly filled chocolates (either he pays attention well, or I just yum over anything with raspberry and/or chocolate that much that it's obvious). Then we went out for dinner at a cool little burrito shop, before heading back to his place and calling it an early night.

Sunday I got lots of snuggles from my man, we went to Panera for lunch, ran a few errands, and watched a movie before supper. He was brave enough to let me try cooking something new, so I made us chicken marsala, which turned out amazingly well if I do say so myself. I think he was slightly scared by my cooking method - apparently not everyone automatically needs two recipes, and doesn't follow either, to make something new!

I stayed over until Monday/Valentine's Day, and he bought me breakfast at this awesome little cafe. It wasn't the kinda place you'd think of being romantic, but it was fun and really sweet. The food was good, and you could tell they knew all the regulars. I liked the feel of the place, and I liked that it wasn't like a cliche Valentine's date spot.

The only bad part of the weekend? We both had to work Monday afternoon, so we couldn't spend the rest of Valentine's day together.

How much do you love me?

How much do you love me?

Do you love me enough,

to hug away my tears,

to hold me when I cry,

to put me on my feet,

when everything feels wrong?

Do you love me enough,

to know who I am,

and still be there,

even when I cry,

for no reason at all?

Do you love me enough,

to stay by my side,

when I've lost track,

of who I am

and what I want?

Do you love me enough,

to catch me when I fall,

stop the out of control,

downward spiral

of my crashing mood?

Do you love me enough,

to be worthy of my trust,

to keep me safe

and not break my heart,

if I let you touch it?

True Friend

wrapping me with love

drying tears of pain and hurt

tight hugs holding me

prompt: write a haiku about someone important to you.

The Moon's Smile

Look,
it's the moon,
like the shadow of,
a Cheshire Cat,
she comes to watch,
on perfect days,
a warm day in winter,
or cool summer day,
with clear blue sky,
and soft sun shine,
she comes and smiles,
she's happy to see us,
happy to be,
part of a beautiful day,
and I wonder,
why she hides,
when the day could use a smile.


Prompt from A Writer's Book of Days: Write about a day moon.


P.S. I didn't miss yesterday's prompt; I just haven't decided whether I'm posting any of it. The prompt was: "A year after your death,..." (after Czeslaw Milosz)

"A Writer's Book" Day Two

The prompt:
Write about something sacred.

The random rambling:
The earth is sacred, the ground we walk the stars above, the pen in my hand, writing itself. Life is sacred. I could write about anything and it would be sacred, but what does sacred mean. To me it means valued, loved by God, necessary for wholeness. Anything life giving is sacred, but so are the things that take life, because without those things we couldn't see the value of the things that give life. Love is sacred. Loving is living in the sacred way of God. The sacred is both invincible and as fragile as a glass ornament. The stuff of life is sacred. Life is sacred. Books and words and feelings. Relationships. Touching the soul of another. Perhaps that touching is the most sacred of all things. When you touch somebody so deeply their very soul moves inside them. Connections are sacred. We live in a web, tied to the earth and the sky, each other, all creatures and all creation by invisible threads, and everyone of those threads is sacred. Ubuntu.


The poetry:
Sacred Threads

I
am
not
alone.

I'm tied to you,
to creation,
to the earth,
to the sky.

Connected,
bound up,
by God's love,
the sacred threads.

The ties of love,
the give and take,
the push and pull,
the stuff of life,
that makes us whole.

The sacred is knowing,
I am because you are.
Ubuntu.

Cold

Cold and hollow,
left untied,
falling,
apart.
Am I,
really,
all alone,
stuck inside,
this hollow empty,
broken space?
My heart,
forgets,
how to,
be loved,
Wanting to,
remember how,
to love myself
broken and,
fragile as
I am.
Blindly,
reaching,
for escape,
from self-made,
traps and walls,
confining
weights,
hold,
my,
heart.

I love you

little words,
said with simple,
sincerity,
every pint-sized hug,
proclaiming,
the truth of words,
not heard enough.

What language are your tears?*

If a picture's worth,
a thousand words,
a tear drop must be,
worth a thousand feelings,
a thousand stories,
of pain and joy.

If a tear drop tells,
a thousand stories,
it must be in,
the language of love,
love for the broken,
love for the living,
love for the hurting,
love for the celebrating,
love for the one,
who forgets that they're loved,
and love for the one,
who's wrapped tight in love.


*Title and inspiration came from the song "Is Love Enough?" by Michael Franti

One Year Later: Claiming a Rainbow Umbrella

Nearly a year ago I wrote this blog post about attending the local Pridefest. It was the first Pridefest in my town and the first Pride event I attended. The festival itself wasn't all that different from any other festival, but, watching the scene at the gate, I was both appalled by the need for, and fascinated by the work of the Silent Witnesses, who were providing a human barrier against the verbal attacks being made by protesters. Listening to the festival goers, and Silent Witnesses, being verbally attacked, I promised myself that next year I would be there holding a rainbow umbrella (one of the identifying marks of a Silent Witness).

As I wrote about that day, I promised my readers I would work as a Silent Witness this year. Friends and strangers alike expressed encouragement and gratitude on my post, and told me how much they appreciated what I wrote. I had been afraid I would get negative feedback when I posted it, but the overwhelming positive response made me all the more determined to follow through with my promise.

After waiting all year to be a Silent Witness for the local Pridefest, I attended their training session. During the training their nonviolent, non confrontational, philosophy of peacekeeping was explained. They talked about what roles they need people to fill during events, and the importance of NOT visibly reacting to the protesters. Though any form of communication with the protesters is strictly off limits, the trainers explained that it's ok, and even encouraged, to talk to anyone else. I remembered many of the things they talked about from watching the Silent Witnesses at last years event.

Since the training I attended was only a few days before the local Pridefest, it included some discussion of what to expect at this specific event. When they showed a map of the park it was in, they pointed out the main gate and the secondary gate, explaining that the protesters didn't discover the back gate until late afternoon last year, but now that they knew about it they would likely be there earlier this year. As they pointed out the back gate I felt year-old negative emotions boiling up in me. I remembered walking to the back gate with the first Silent Witness assigned there after the protesters found it last year, and wondered if I could really do this.

The morning of the Pridefest I listened to my favorite politically minded music, and tried to prepare myself for the work I was about to do. Listening to the Michael Franti lyrics “They say you got to choose your side and when it's done, nobody right, nobody wrong.... ...tryin' to make a point or have the last word, but most the time people just tryin' to be heard....” I thought about the fact that as Silent Witnesses we're NOT to try to stop or silence the protesters. It's not our job to keep them quiet, it's our job to keep the peace, and protect everyone's rights, including the rights of the protesters, as distasteful as we might find the way they choose to use their right to free speech.

Though I was slightly nervous, I was mostly pumped up and excited to help. When I arrived at the check in station I proudly claimed my rainbow umbrella, and put on the bright orange safety vest with Silent Witness logos that would be my uniform as I worked. The rain in the morning had done more to scare away the protesters than it did to scare away the vendors, so things were quiet at the gate when I first went on duty. The Silent Witnesses stationed themselves around the gate, welcoming everyone with their colorful umbrellas and friendly greetings. When protesters began showing up we continued our job as welcomer, carefully positioning ourselves between the protesters and the path to the festival gates.

Before I knew it, I had been on duty for an hour and a half. I took a break to explore the festival, and when I returned there were a few protesters preaching to anyone in ear shot, and even more Silent Witnesses stationed around the entrance. I took up my umbrella and found a corner without as many Silent Witnesses to stand at. Word was casually being passed around that the rain would strike in about fifteen minutes, but we were already prepared with our umbrellas. For the next couple of hours I stood, umbrella in hand, with the other Silent Witnesses. We chuckled to ourselves over the illogical arguments made by the protesters, and grinned as the sudden downpours drowned out the protesters words, and made us glad to have our umbrellas.

As I stood there I felt hurt for the people being insulted by the protesters, but even more so I felt sad for the protesters. I believe God and Love are two forces that cannot be limited, and yet the protesters were trying to limit both, and truly believed what they were saying. Hearing the protesters ranting I couldn't help but wonder what version of the bible they read that says it's ok to judge, but the more frustrating thing was wishing I could convince them of how much bigger than their narrow definition God's love is, and knowing they wouldn't, perhaps couldn't even, believe it if I told them.


This entry is also posted on my political/social justice blog.

Witnessing Love

Fingering the purple band,
wound around my wrist,
I think of yesterdays events,
holding a rainbow,
in the pouring rain,
an umbrella of hope,
in the storm of hate,
love abused.

I'm sad for the insulted,
sadder for the insulter,
who's forgotten the music,
the tune of God's love.

This poem was inspired by my experience working as a Silent Witness at a local Pridefest.

Falling in Love

I wrote this recently for a challenge in a poetry group I'm in.


Falling in Love

Sitting alone in the pouring rain,
a simple hi is all it takes,
to call my attention to,
a man who shares my quiet,
I feel myself slide,
falling in love,
wanting you,
romance,
mine

Alone

Please don't leave me,
all alone,
to think,
and be,
left to my own devises,
alone in the night,
with my own thoughts,
wishing to be loved,
wanting to be held,
lacking the company,
of sweet romance,
all the more lonely,
for knowing you've gone,
to hold another,
in the kind of love,
I only wish for.

Pray to the Ends of the Earth

God of all people,
Let me live your love,
to the ends of the earth.
Shine your light,
in the darkest corners of despair.
Touch your most broken people,
with your healing love.
Shine your light through me.
Fill every heart with compassion,
from here to the ends of the earth.
Touch each being you've created,
with desire to live,
not just for themselves,
but for for all the Earth,
that they may live in you,
and you in them.

Writing to God

Earlier I asked my frequently annoying cousin to guess what I wrote yesterday, and one of the things she guessed was a love letter. Somewhat take back I told her I didn't have anyone to write a love letter to. She said I should still write a love letter "just to experiment" and than she challenged me to write a love letter to God. Even as I told her I didn't think I could I knew I would try it, just because I can't resist a challenge....

So I'm not really sure if it's a love letter, perhaps psalm would be a better word for it, but here is what I wrote:

Letter to God

Dear God,
My words are too small,
for your magnificence.

I am but a child,
young,
naive,
unworthy of you,
and yet your love is greater,
than my bravest dreams.

The touch of your breath in my hair,
sends shivers down my spine,
I delight in your power.

You send the sun to shine upon me,
my whole being comes alive,
at the touch of your warmth.

You walk with me in the woods,
I inhale your scent.

I dance childishly in your presence,
yet you sing to my soul,
begging my spirit to commune,
with the world you created

You come to me in the darkness of night,
whispering to me,
awakening my inner most desires,
calming my fears,
with quiet assurances,
of your love.

You pierce my heart with desire,
to care for you in the smallest,
most broken around me,
even as I feel too small,
too broken myself,
to offer my own hand.

When my heart aches to be understood,
you are but an invitation away,
waiting for the chance to touch me again.

Be with me,
I want to feel your presence,
be wrapped in your arms,
touched with your love,
undeserving as I am,
I want to be yours,
always.

Vday Rant

It's Valentine's Day - A day of love and relationships. A celebration of intimacy, friendship, romance, and caring for others.

Or not.

In the past few days I've talked with a couple of different people about Valentine's Day, the commercialization of romance, and the inadequacy of candy hearts and roses in expressing true love. Instead of being about real love (in all it's forms), Valentine's Day has become another excuse to sell crap, tell people they need to be sexy, and devalue anyone who isn't in a romantic relationship.

Quite frankly I'm sick of all the mushy lets-be-romantic-because-it's-the day-of-love crap. If you want to be romantic you shouldn't need a special day for it, and, as a new friend reminded me earlier, romantic love isn't the only kind of love. Love is a good thing, but telling people they need a special day to love someone or that buying over priced candy, flowers, and jewelry is synonymous with love isn't a good thing.


"So if you love somebody better tell them so, coz you never ever ever no when they gonna go, if they love you back, just give thanks, can't keep love like money in the bank"
-Michael Franti, Life in the City