Bench/Bitch-Marks & Soap Bubbles

Seeing the bench marking your ass

from sitting down and getting


goals done –

for someone else,

it wore, but didn’t hurt.


Don’t stress about those bench, or bitch-marks,

because that won’t help your dreams hitch.


Pitch your dream to God, the Universe,

it’ll get tossed back to you.

Maybe not how you imagined,

but bigger than that.

A rolling shimmery ball,

like those iridescent soap bubbles you blew with the wind

way back when.


it’s so big and radiant,

You can’t put your arms around it,

or break it.


It’s yours –

to transform,

to follow,

to share.


Attention, My Pet

Focused seemingly with a laser point stare,

Attention seems fixated, aware.

Then you sparkle and shine with a smile.

Attention’s thoughts chase your words,

scampering, bounding,


Suddenly, Attention sees a flicker nearby.

What is it?!

A new idea, endeavor, creation to nudge,

knead and trounce.


Yes, Attention has moved on for now,

But as she pads away swiftly, do know

she’ll be back to purr you to her side.

Dust storm style. In case you live in the desert southwest.

It’s still Haboob, a.k.a. dust shaboob _dustorm styletorm season in Arizona. While it’s accepted as the norm in the desert southwest till late September, sometimes people still want to look  pulled together  after being caught in one.
This is a weekend look for women, with styling and accessory tips for everyone living in  such conditions:
-Hair pulled away/up (captures less dust).
-Sunglasses, even if it’s not sunny. It prevents you from being blinded by debris/particles if outside.
-Bright or multi- colored top so your friends/loved ones can find you when you are in a group and walking/running for shelter.
-Vegan leather/vinyl skirt is easy to wipe dust from.
– Shoes that are easy to move quickly in (vs. the flip flop commonly seen during summer months).
-Reflective backpack can also act like a flare and shines well in the glare of headlights to alert people if you are stranded  on the roadside, while storing handy snacks.

Fashion and style have a purpose when you know how to apply it well. I wish you a stylish, safe and less dusty summer.

Erasing the Finish Lines

Those aren’t finish lines on our body and face.crosswalk-377613_1280

Our soul’s race,

never-ending, so many infinite

miles into the heavens.

Some of us can’t even begin to see, perceive.

Our earthly race,

is only with ourselves.

Let’s set our own pace.

Never crossing the finish line,

but erasing, redrawing, and

erasing them over and over again.

Continuously resetting and


Winners in love,




and grace.








Are the Hot Fires of Your Work/Creative Passion Fueling You or Burning You Out?

Growing up and until about a five years ago, I thought being passionate about my work and or, creative interests won out over everything.  I thought being passionate gave me the motivation and drive to continue pursuing my goals, and or dreams. It does, to a point. However, it made me realize it is also why I have a hard time seeing some long-term projects to completion. I’ve burned myself out on my passionate feelings in different phases of an idea, project, etc.  You may give so much energy to one part of a goal, that by the time other details are necessary, especially with long turn-around projects, your brain is toasted and fried and you want a vacation.

A side effect of too much passion?

In this instance and others, I’m finding that passion, for me anyway, wears me out quicker – emotionally, spiritually and physically. I think it’s because I have multiple interests and pursuits as a small business owner. Maybe it’s different for those who are dedicated to one specific career path, hobby or endeavor.

According to Harvard Business Review, there’s different types of passion. There is obsessive passion and harmonious passion. The former, by name alone, is the healthier version. I know I’m committed to it and  being aware about which type I’m operating from.

A medium to high level of interest can make me happy for a greater length of time as long as passion is present. It can make its appearances, but it doesn’t need to be the headliner.  With it, I find that I’m more emotionally attached. This can serve its purpose(s), but it can also be a hindrance to cutting my losses when an idea or project doesn’t work. I also have found that with a high level of passion for something comes greater expectations -Expectations of people, outcomes, etc. If you’re even a somewhat sensitive person, this can make moving forward a challenge sometimes when expectations aren’t met.

Passion is not practical all the time. I’m doing my best to apply it in moderation. I’m liking my interests with an hour or two of passion sprinkled into my life regularly. What is your experience? Share by clicking the comments link to the left.

Those Rarer Times when Awkward Discomfort Leads to Creativity. (Cabin) Pressure Creates a Little Gem.

creativityCreativity – what conditions are best for it? In a recent conversation with a dear friend, we agreed that most of our good creative ideas come when we are doing one of the following – washing our hair, staring out the window, driving, or meditating. We are typically, physically at ease and relaxed. Even when I worked in busy, noisy office spaces, I was able to shut my door or put headphones and be productive. However, about three months ago, a strange thing happened to me. I was able to be creative under very different and unusual circumstances.

I was on a plane trip where I was pretty uncomfortable. The woman next to me had space in her seat to leave me one arm rest for at least part of the flight. She overtook the arm rest between us and randomly leaned a bit into my seat space. Additionally, she was coughing and sniffling into crumpled tissue. There was another seat on the other side of her, in which she could’ve sat. I asked her why she didn’t want the window seat. She told me that in case nature calls, she’d like to be closer to the aisle, so she was fine with the middle seat. I told her I understood and for the same reason, prefer my aisle seat. I added to this with a hopeful smile– “I’m sure we’re both good at sharing an arm rest.” She proved me wrong.

About 4o minutes into the flight, I asked a crew member if there were other empty seats on the plane, and of course, there was not. Not that it seemed to matter much, the majority of passengers sounded sick. So, besides feeling physically cramped, I was having a mild to moderate case of germ-phobia. I decided to make the best of it. I asked the flight attendant for some orange juice. I applied hand sanitizer generously. For a moment, I considered lathering up with up it – smearing it on my face, neck and arms to see if it would disturb my seat neighbor enough to move over. But, I didn’t have much left and wanted it to last the flight. So, I put on my ear buds and started reading a book I got for Christmas – Yes Please, by Amy Poehler, her funny, inspiring, and down-to-earth, nearly mid-life memoir. In it, she described her challenge in writing it –

“ Everyone lies about writing. They lie about how easy it is or hard it was . . . writing is some beautiful experience that takes place in an architectural room with leather novels and chai tea . . . what a load of shit. It has been like hacking away at a freezer with a screwdriver.”

Creativity and inspiration soon spark. A poem started forming in reply to her writing challenges. I wrote about my struggle with writing a fiction book:

Scribing Story or Sticky Sludge?

The pen is my balancing cane,
as I sludge
through molasses in
purple goulashes.
Hoping I don’t land on
my ass or in a pile of ashes –
the ashes of books burned
which never saw their finish.
Should I stick not to the molasses,
but the telling of a story to the end?
But what end? Who decides the end?
Is it I, they, or it – the molasses of gray
matter that is my mind of late?
Is it the moles, the curious on-looker of critics,
do-gooding book-readers who poke out their heads
and opinions? Or is it the asses,
the naysayers, and whybothers?
I continue on.
My pen is my support and ally as
I slip and slide down the street of molasses that seems to not end, 
doing my best to shake distracting moles and asses along the way.

 So, feeling the pressure of being confined to a small, uncomfortable space seemed to force me to intensely focus on other thoughts and ideas – and get some results. Have you had similar moments of creativity? Share your physically, awkwardly, uncomfortable, but creative moments with me in the comments below.