simple truths

I remember my Grandmama, explaining to my 7 year old self,       "Every seven years your body changes." As an adult, this has proved to be true. Even science backs up Grandmama on this one, nearly every cell in our body including the ones which make up our bones are in fact replaced over time (although its a lot more complex than that...). Think back to seven years old. Parents- think of your child at 7 years old!! The age of reason, and I will add the age of individual opinion, lol. Fast forward to fourteen years! Ok, enough said on that age....now 21..... These are defining years for most people, when not just our physical body changes, but our persona and status too. Interestingly, seven years comes up as the final number of many cycles. Debts are cancelled after 7 years. Bad luck from broken mirrors thankfully disappear. The famous "seven year itch," in marriages. I have noticed in my personal life, many events, people and places have come back

Walking Along Walking along the edge. Gazing at possibilities. Slowly taking these steps, I sway to find my footing. Indefinite, but with stride, and seeking affirmation, I am altogether captured by the reverent form unfolding. Resisting an impressive urge, to plunge into what feels true, I have fallen before, and as they say, That, is not what kills. So, here I remain. Myself. Steady and balanced on this ledge. On the horizon, moments envisaged,  waiting to become… When the timing is right, with respect to that uncertain state, disquietude shall cease, and a new harmony will compose… Where- I can jump, or rather fall, and immerse absolutely, in amity and contentment. Fulfillment of our course. What an extraordinary endeavor we have set out to travel. The words which brim upon my lips, simply do not avail, or impart to you, what I believe, this journey may reveal. For now… These words will hold their place and we will walk on still. -Rochell

I play with my words like you play with gum, pulling each vowel through my lips, feeling the crack of a consonant on my tongue, and biting down to hold each in their proper place. I play with words like babies play with bubbles, creating them to shine then pop with possibilities, my wand is my pen, dipped deep into the frothy brine, to conjure up form from subconscious mystery. Where grammar gives way to art. punctuated. by the rhythms and the _silence between the notes. Where language dances with intimate perception, staring back at the reader, the writer, casting shadows of depth no picture could perceive, it's thousand words so intricately weaved. These words are toys, not like blocks stacked in math, but like play-doh and finger paint, the impressions made of the author in press are the dips in the clay and the prints in the paint. Where best of all I am never alone, my reader must play _and so far, we get along.

       "The world is waiting," she told me. "You're a trailblazer. You don't walk the path, or find the path, you bludgeon through the thick and create it. God has obliged you. He keeps creating the thick for you to devour!" Occasionally, I am reminded of my significance and capabilities. It has been nearly one year since my "awakening," when all the pieces came together and my perspective on life got turned on its ass. And if you can imagine your brain getting emptied out and rearranged without you participation- it leaves one a bit disoriented on their path in life. All of the humbling, heartbreaking, shocking experiences over the last two years have left me peaceful. Not numb, or angry...As I swallow one painfully toxic dose of life after another I am gradually removed from the necessity to suffer from loss and failure. Kahlil Gibran said,  "The deeper that  sorrow  carves into your being the more  joy  you can contain...  Your  joy  

Too late Horrific things happen in the smoothest of ways- creeping in unannounced and spreading before it can be caught, like the blood seeping from an open wound, it pours it's dark and permanent stain beyond the grasp of our control- There is no break from reality to experience these things--they are part of our normal life as much as the water we drink; ....no alarms will sound, no rush of empathy and support will crowd to ease the blow, you just take it! Only in the aftermath do we feel the hot tears well up, feel the guilt, loss, pain and shock...too late for apologies and too soon for forgiveness

Just to the North of where I live, lies an abundant land, where truly all things are possible, and there is an answer for every question. I call this place, "The Idea Factory," you may have something similar North of where you live, called an imagination. Some people there wander off into a warm sea, golden beach, paradise. Others live out lives of fame and fortune in this place. I, create solutions. Sometimes to a problem you didn't even know was a problem yet.... EXAMPLE: Replacing the age old Clothes Hanger system with a rotating, self-folding wheel- keeping clothes wrinkle free and eliminating the need for drawers as well!               * Yes, I am aware this idea will never catch on and may be slightly retarded. BUT! Could someone, somewhere make a buck selling that, sure! People buy rocks, as pets, so why the hell not.... There are many solutions, to problems big and small, which I have concocted; EXAMPLE II: (better idea) Instead of eliminating the pe

Feeling underappreciated and saddened at how it is possible to pour your heart out, give your time and all you have to give to another person and have them spit in your face. I had the epiphany that this is how God must feel when his children sin. He pours his unending love out for us, he gives of all he is For Us and we spit in the face of the almighty and go about doing contradictory and counterproductive things- and he keeps loving us all the same.  I will continue to feel unappreciated and taken from, as long as I continue to take for granted the blessings in my life. Once I learn to give back to God in appreciation and gratitude, the same way I would give back to anyone who would go out of their way for me- then I will know what being loved is meant to feel like.

    If this question seems ridiculous to you, then you're probably not AM challenged like me. You probably wake up to greet the magnificent sun and the glorious new day with plans in mind and set your feet to the cool floor with purpose and ambition. I, however, sit in a sleep-drunken stupor, staring at my freezing cold floor with questions like, "What is going on?", and "Why am I awake again?" In my morning delirium I am a math whiz apparently- quickly calculating how many times I can hit snooze before my alarm clock just gives up- or how many minutes it really  takes  myself and three children to get ready. I have turned down jobs which required arriving before 9am and I even dropped out of the race for Class President once, when I heard they met early, before school hours- I simply walked out of the meeting and tore up my flyers. I DO NOT exist before 7am- and then you'd only be meeting my stunt double (we'll call her "Vicky)- she makes me

We've made this trip so many times around, it makes me dizzy.This beautiful, tragic, spinning kaleidoscope I've seen. Through your eyes, deep, in ancient times until the new, It was always you. Through the black holes of the windows to my soul. Something has started, you must be feeling this too! The tune has changed, we danced so long but now we sing. All the songs on the radio are beginning to sound the same. The people I talk to and the signs I see are making a strong impression on me. Larger than I could have ever believed. I could argue and convince, we are as we used to be. But my soul knows different, and the rest of the world is with me. You say you want to climb every mountain, visit every creek ... because one day this earth will perish and be inherited unto the meek. This all moves along at the speed of sound, such a powerful force. It's all you and me, and everyone with us. Should we jump up in praise, Or fall to our knees? Bringing to rest the su

As I raise three children on my own, my daily vocabulary consists of "No," "Bring that here," "Put that down," and "What do you say?" No one inquires how I am feeling, or what my plans are. No one offers to assist with the daily chores. No one discusses the world events or local news. My lips stay sealed, my stare remains distant.  The occasional friendly call seems to always close with a sigh- I just have nothing to talk about. People ask, "What you been up to?" I wish I had something to share. Something to bubble up into friendly chatter. But my new refrigerator just doesn't carry any conversational weight, nor does the pile of laundry waiting to be folded. My future plans and ambitions don't glitter against this backdrop. They seem like the fairy tales I read, cute and fantastical. Ridiculous because what is a goal for tomorrow when I can't even complete the tasks for today, the simple ones. And if I did, WHO CARES? N