December 8, 2012

first snow

hot black coffee
splashes on the linoleum floor.
we're all in a rush.

hats, gloves, and boots.
the swish of bundled bodies
shoving their way out the door.

the first snow blankets the ground.
enough to build forts
and soak through my shoes.

you pull up
in the smell of exhaust and cigarettes.
and cold air.

you're smiling
as you trudge up the sidewalk.
i'm hoping you're smiling at me.

and then the snow starts flying.
laughter echos in the stillness.
everyone is a kid today.



November 12, 2012

Pressure

I was having relationship trouble and I was talking to my mom about it. I will never forget what she said:

        "Remind him you're just like a horse; you move away from pressure."

I do not think at that point that I had ever considered that part of myself.  And definitely not in a way that I could explain to someone else.  But in that moment, and many moments since, it has continued to make perfect sense to me.  And in many ways it remains a core truth of my experience of myself.

The catch is that pressure seems to carry a lot of negativity.  We feel pressured to be perfect, do our best, make everyone happy, do the right thing, or pressure is what makes us crack or break.  Pressure implies that there is something internal or external that expects or wants something from us.  Too much pressure is unbearable but no pressure is considered comfortable - 'No pressure, whatever you want!'

Internal pressure is a feeling I am familiar with.  I have a drive to be perfect, never let anyone down, keep everyone around me happy, do everything just right, look good doing it, and the list goes on.  I will be the first to admit that it can be exhausting.  I am slowly learning to recognize when the pressure I place on myself about something is out of my control and when I need to let to let the 'right answer' go.  However, the internal pressure have is also one of my greatest strengths.  I am not someone who does anything half-heartedly.  The pressure I place on myself internally is what defines who I am in the world.  The pressure puts my passion to work and creates a drive to always be learning, growing, and changing.  Being able to recognize when the internal pressure serves me and when it is breaking me is important.

External pressure feels like a whole different game.  I don't own that pressure, I can just feel it.  It's harder to reframe, harder to understand, and harder to judge the intention of.   I have however, become more and more accustomed to what it feels like to be sensitive to the pressure around me and react accordingly.

The last time I was at the ranch, a young man in our group volunteered to be an example client in front of a very large group of observers.  When asked what he wanted to talk to the horses about he shared he had some questions about his current relationship.  I could feel the crowd creeping closer to catch every word both he said and to catch every detail of my grandmother's facilitation of the experience.  When I looked to the horse he was sharing the experience with-our lead mare Be, she began to walk away from the crowd and I felt her saying, 'Come on kid, let's go.'  For me, that moment felt private for Be and the client and the pressure of the listening ears felt rude.  So, I simply stayed back in the field and waited.  It is not a judgement of those who followed Be and the client, but simply the awareness that I did not need to.

In many ways I use pressure as information about any given situation.  It's the sensory device I use to determine safety and underlying experiences.  And that very well may be a skill I learned from Holly.  If you want to see pressure in action just watch someone who is focused and determined to meet Holly. Their pressure can feel predatory and Holly won't come near.  Just staring at her can be too much.  And when it is she leaves the situation.  Flight.  She moves away from the pressure.  I have in many ways adopted this defense mechanism as well.  However, I have come to learn that in human experiences escaping pressure can be more complicated.

When Holly escapes from pressure she moves into more space and the threat is gone.  It can only come from so many places or people or creatures.  Escaping pressure in the human world is more difficult.  It can come from multiple angles with many intentions and then there are social expectations that make just leaving the physical situation unacceptable or often ineffective.  And hiding from things - literally or physically, is not a habit that is good to depend on.  And you can trust me on this: I've tried many variations of escaping pressure both ways and rarely has it made me feel safe or in control.  (Here comes that fear again...) And because of these experiences, pressure has become something that I am almost terrified of and it will drive me to the very edge looking for an escape.

But I think I finally discovered my defense.  The answer is not finding a faster way out, or avoiding everything all together.  Instead, it is standing my ground.

TERRIFYING.

I stood my ground in the face of questionable intentions and a lot of pressure.  I had to stand my ground for days.  And it was uncomfortable, painful, and scary. And I was accused of being many other things.  But at the end of it I didn't feel afraid or ashamed or weak or afraid like I do constantly running or hiding.  I feel secure and confident. Safe.

After processing this experience I realized I was not giving Holly enough credit.  She is a zebra, after all.  A fierce and confident zebra who could, if given the chance, could break a lion's jaw with a kick from her hind feet.  I felt lion-like pressure and I responded with all my zebra strength.  And it worked! That is a empowering feeling.  Suddenly, external pressure doesn't feel like an impossible challenge.  I can feel it in my gut, gauge my response, and if it feels negative or predatory I have more then flight as an option.  And I have more strength then I thought.

Even though this discovery happened far away from Holly, I would be foolish to ignore her role in it.  I know that soon I can share space with my zebra sister and I will tell her all about that time I ran into a lion and lived to tell the tale.  But I can close my eyes right now and picture her with of her tail and stomp of her foot whispering to me, 'Well, of course you did!  You're a zebra.'

November 11, 2012

it's snowing

'it's snowing.'
you whisper.
i jump from beneath the blankets
to see the white floating down,
silently. magically.
the air is cold.
i giggle.
crawl back in
and kiss your shoulder.
slide my leg through yours.
'it's my favorite day of the year.'
i whisper back.

'it's snowing.'
the text message says.
your first words to me in months.
no whisper.
no touch.
far away from you,
it is just bitter cold and windy.
no magic.
'not here.'
i say back.

i wonder if you're remembering too.
how much i love the first snow.
and how much i loved you.

October 27, 2012

Broken Girl

you thought i was pretty.
and i needed your smile
and gentleness.

i've watched you love me
unconditionally.
desperately wanting to do the same.

i'm not sure i  can let you go.
but you can't hold me forever.
it's better this way.

your arms held me together,
and your hands held back my hair.
that's what you get for loving a broken girl.

what did you expect?
baby,
that's just what you get for loving a broken girl.

October 22, 2012

Boston



i learned the truth in Boston.
that january day
we wandered the streets
until my feet were numb.
stopping only when we reached the edge.

gusting off the salty water
the wind was freezing.
cold and sharp,
like ice in the vodka
we'd drank the night before.

the liquor made you mean.
nasty.
snide remarks aimed at me.
a part of you i'd never seen.
but by morning you were quiet.

snow swirled.
my jaw clenched
to stop the shivering.
i pleaded silently with bleary eyes
for you to look at me.

but you just stared at the ocean
as we stood at the edge of the harbor.
all alone.
the two of us,
braving the bitter weather.

i realized then
you had changed with the seasons.
growing icy like the wind.
freezing out the warmth
that had been our summer.

i heard the truth that cold day.
in your silence,
the ocean's crash
and the howl of the wind.
i hate Boston in the winter.

October 11, 2012

A Love Story

a zebra fell in love with a lion.
her flight was suspended
by his charge.

'are we that different?'
she flutters her dark eyelashes.
'i can be fierce.'
she stomps her hoof and swishes her tail.

the lion admires her stripes.
and laughs at her declaration.
'i could teach you to be brave.'
his confidence is brimming.

'the fear you incite,
might protect me.'
she considers.
'sometimes I tire of always running.'

'i'll keep you safe.'
he whispers.
'i'll always have your back.'

and so for a time,
they wander side by side.
and the zebra lies down with the lion.

she pulls out his gentleness,
a little at a time.
he pushes her to attack
and demand respect for her tenacity.

but this love can't last forever.
she is breaking under the pressure,
returning to her flight.
he can't bear the newfound pain
of watching her slip away.

'Go.'
he retreats toward his solitude.
she feels her instinct returning
as she watches him slink away.

'you said you'd always have my back.'
she calls,
watching the space grow between them.
her body is trembling,
'run, run, run' is all she can hear.

'i will.'
he thinks.
'but if i can't be a lion,
and you can't be a zebra,
what will we ever be together?'

'i always told you i was a zebra!'
she defends.
'and i only asked you to be a lion.
but i will always be a zebra,
how could i ever believe i'd be safe with you.'

anniversary.

the machine beeps rhythmically.
i can hear voices bouncing off the linoleum floor.
my head pounds and my vision blurs.
they wrap a bracelet around my wrist,
admitted: December 6th.

you push me against the door.
your lips pull at my heart,
your hands tear at my edges.
i'm too far gone to reach.
i'm in too deep to pull away.

my heart is racing.
i open my eyes to more needles.
she smooths back my hair and asks how i'm feeling.
i can't speak
and i turn away.

but i didn't turn away from him.
he pulls me down.
the room is spinning and i'm breathing fast.
i can see the pain in your face,
but i tell myself it's too late to stop this now.

my mind can forget.
I can pretend it never happened.
but my body reminds me,
of the pain in this anniversary.


October 9, 2012

Never Offer Your Heart to Someone Who Eats Hearts


Never offer your heart
to someone who eats hearts
who finds heartmeat
delicious
but not rare
who sucks the juices
drop by drop
and bloody-chinned
grins
like a God.

Never offer your heart
to a heart gravy lover.
Your stewed, overseasoned
heart consumed
he will sop up your grief
with bread
and send it shuttling
from side to side
in his mouth
like bubblegum.

If you find yourself
in love
with a person
who eats hearts
these things
you must do.

Freeze your heart
immediately.
Let him—next time
he examines your chest—
find your heart cold
flinty and unappetizing.

Refrain from kissing
lest he in revenge
dampen the spark
in your soul.

Now,
sail away to Africa
where holy women
await you
on the shore—
long having practiced the art
of replacing hearts
with God and Song.

-Alice Walker


October 8, 2012

Sleeping Easy

Loving you was easy.
Hiding from the truth was harder to do.
I only stopped believing,
When you showed up at my door with her in tow.

While I'm learning to live on my own,
She's holding you.
While I'm dreaming alone,
She's holding you.

But I wouldn't switch places with her anymore.

Because I still know you,
Always with one foot out the door.
I know what she's afraid to say.
And I know she can't be sleeping easy.

It's only a matter of time,
Before the truth becomes clear for her too.
She will know you don't stay.
And she won't be sleeping easy.

So while she's holding you,
For now.
I'm the one that got away.
And in this freedom I sure am sleeping easy.



October 6, 2012

afterward.

afterward you're warm and soft.
flexible in the places you hold strength.
you're slow to move and slow to speak.

afterward i'm hollow,
like everything in me has drained out.
my body aches with tension.

afterward i climb into your arms,
against the wall of your chest,
hoping i can break all the way through and disappear.

maybe i can fill up my hollow places if i pull you close enough.
can all the good in you push out all the bad in me?
and afterward i'll feel warm and soft too.

Comfort

Holly has been my greatest teacher. The lessons I learn and the moments we share are precious. And I rarely go a day without thinking of her.

When I have been away for a long time, I sometimes forget the comfort I feel in the presence of my zebra. The simplicity of being together is a welcome refuge.

Holly's loyal grandfather passed away recently. A wise white gelding who was absolute comfort. He served as Holly's guide and her protector. Without him, she has in many ways lost her comfort. When she needed to rest, she knew that Thunderheart would watch over her as she lay down to sleep. Without him, she feels she must be alert all the time. My grandfather told me that she has barely been sleeping and finally she gets so tired she just collapses.

I cannot ever really 'turn off'. Everywhere I go and in every situation, the energy, that most people can't feel, makes it difficult for me to settle. My constant awareness would serve me better as a zebra than it does as a human. But when I'm with Holly, I can share some of the responsibility of being alert. We can support each other. Sharing space means we have less to watch out for on our own. And when we need a little support we can look for each other. Often, in large groups Holly will seek me out and move close to watch things unfold. It doesn't even take words or touch to make the connection, I can just be near.

Why is that comfort so hard to find anywhere else? What does it say about me that am most at peace in the presence of a wild animal? Holly is different, and our relationship is special. But she's far away and I can't simply walk out into her pasture and kneel down in the grass and tell Holly I'm tired and I need to rest.

But how I wish I could.

I seek that comfort in so many other places and people. And it's never quite the same. And sometimes, it's not safe. There are always lions looking for a tired zebra on her own.

But how lucky am I that I know just where to find my cure. I need to remember I can lean on memories of moments of comfort shared with Holly. And I know that I am never completely alone - I know a zebra who sometimes asks the same question.

October 3, 2012

The Final Nail

The final nail,
You snarled.
Iron though wood,
You say I've sealed my fate.

This box may have been built for me,
And I know you meant to lay me down,
Never to escape.
But you have laid here with me for too long.

Warm and cold we've lost ourselves.
Your stone has melted around me.
The old words are blurring and disappearing,
Even you cannot recall what old truths they proclaimed.

You may hate me for bringing you out of the dark and cold.
And feel betrayed that I leapt from the box as it tipped over the edge.
Now that empty box lies splintered in the dust.
Only that last nail holding fast.

And I never want to be held,
By the truths in that final nail.