why am I here being human?

long ago I did not know how precious it is to be so sensitive, so wise, so gentle. I found this world a most trying place to be in. many days still, including today, I wonder...

why am I here being human?

I love to write and—

it’s never been my primary goal: to be a writer

it is one of the activities I find myself most naturally gifted at

and as I’ve grown, I’ve decided that rules are for breaking. i still pause,

ending and beginning sentences with prepositions…and then I do it anyhow.

punctuation here, not there, words that form themselves from the ethers

oh, careful with that! my schoolteacher Grannie said, in reading my unruly poetry.

i find it most natural, to allow the flow of my intuitive channel to pour through my hands

to let the words tumble like water off a cliff edge

enjoying the way they catch the light, I pause, exhaling sighs of wonder

whenever i get caught up in rules, in others ways of being, i find myself wandering astray

lost from my true mode of being

when I find myself coming from the mind, wondering how this connects to that,

what have I just said? does it relate?

I take a deep breath, hand on my heart and collect myself

out of mind, into body. out of thinking, into stillness.

since a young age, i’ve translated my imaginings into short stories,

always loving seeing them come to life, never caring much how many eyes read them

but I did—when I was nine—write to a big publishing house,

a true ink on paper letter, inquiring “how does a nine year old become a published author?”

I realize now, after many years and iterations, of examining self and desire

of coming so deeply into the core of me that I realize my soul’s true mission

to be a living light of wonder, to share wisdom from the deep,

on the subtle art of being spirit in human form

I have a heart of melted gold

oozing, glittering as galaxies of stars in the dark northwoods sky

warm, glowing like soft embers in the circle of still-warm rocks

after the fire.

long ago I did not know

how precious it is to be so sensitive, so wise, so gentle

I found this world a most trying place to be in

many days still, including today, I wonder whyyyy

why am I here being human?

and I remember: I chose this.

maybe I did not like my decision, maybe I tried to rescind

but I chose this

a child of god, a daughter of earth

a soul on mission thru this woman that I am

sharing purity, grace—and wild irreverence

for the way things have been.

I am here to weave a new way

glistening tapestries of love and desire

of witnessing the beauty of creation that we are

so joyfully embodied to receive.

I realize now, after this journey of years

that my curiosity as a nine year old, wondering how to become published

was not how can I be a published author

rather, how does publishing work? andcan I do it?

[i’ve learned that I can do nearly anything I set myself to]

I was never satisfied with the answer I received,

and felt honored all the same that the publisher did indeed write me back.

I am simply so curious about the way…

the destination is beautiful always, each with its own special charm

but the journey—this is what I’m here for

the journey, of being human, of being soul,

of being spirit invested in form

the journey of being

I am here for this.

and I am I here for you too,

to open to your expressive expansive self

to allow life and love to pour thru.

together, we are weaving a new way

one never before seen on earth

and when we pour from clear open hearts

the way is true.

I am here for this—are you?

June 2024