My Journal
Writing is an important way for me to process my feelings, questions, confusions, and experiences.
If writing is helpful for you too, I can design writing specific writing exercises to support your growth through my yoga therapy practice.
CW: some journal entries are about traumatic experiences
my casual mid-life crisis
what’s the trajectory of a mid-life crisis?
does it crash and burn,
like the Harley Davidson i bought with borrowed money?
does it elevate me,
like my new shaved/bleached hairdo?
does it stay and linger,
like the heaviness in my gut?
this isn’t a crisis so much as a subtle unnamed unrest
maybe my trip to Jamaica will fix it
Escarpment
She’s telling me something
about myself
about danger
about hutzpah
about power.
She’s telling me a secret
I can’t put into words
because her language is too slow
for my millisecond of a life.
Older? Wiser?
I used to crave being next to the ocean,
waves crashing so loud i couldn’t hear myself think.
These days,
I long for the whisper of a stream in the woods.
Am i older? Wiser?
Or just tired.
Uncatchable Muse
Maybe 3:22am is the time to write about you
Maybe 3:22am is the time to write about you,
because the rest of my day is diaper-filled.
At 3:22am, I can lean into our kiss slowly
and wait until my head finds just the right tilt
to make you happy.
You like it when I tilt to the right, right?
what i’ve known
Sometimes at night
my wife reaches out to me in bed
Sometimes at night
my wife reaches out to me in bed
and I notice how soft her hand is;
I hold it or kiss it, or give it our special squeeze.
Sometimes at night
my wife reaches out to me in bed
and my whole body jumps, heart screaming,
terrified of what’s coming.
Then I remember
what I’ve known.
8.5 cm
When I was in labor at 8 centimeters dilated, the process got stuck.
When I was in labor at 8 centimeters dilated, the process got stuck. I stayed there for hours, at 8 centimeters, breathing and screaming and moaning through each contraction, desperate during the breaks between.
At 8.5 centimeters - with the gentle urging of my doctor, doula, and wife - I got an epidural and it was just the medicine I needed. I took a deep, long, sleep and woke up two hours later to push my beautiful daughter earthside.
A few weeks ago, my wife told me that while I was sleeping in the hospital bed, she looked over at me and saw me curled up, sucking my thumb.
Imagine that – a grown woman, about to give birth, sleeping like a baby and sucking her own thumb.
We are all mothers, daughters, and grandmas. We are all here and beyond. We are all life and the darkness of death. And everything in between.