On thanksgiving I stayed under the covers
Blue shroud
I walked into the mansion
and I was unexpected

Blue shroud
I stood before them
and was remembered with a smile
as Thanksgiving came beneath the covers

The night before Hunter had asked
when was the last time
I had pulled hooks from my flesh
and I remembered with a smile

I walked into the mansion
walked past the map
Blue shroud
and walked out of the mansion to the waves

Mermen and dolphins dive deep
I remembered with a smile
pulled hooks from my flesh
under a Blue shroud


Today T Thorn Coyle summed it up well in her note to herself…

Do not believe until you have swallowed the truth whole, digested it, and let it seep through your pores. Do not believe until the truth affects the way you walk, talk, sit, laugh, and dance. Do not believe until the truth has shattered and rebuilt your heart and resurfaced the landscape of your mind and soul.

I have a long way to go.

I have paths of personal practice that hone me, shine me. They walk with me and talk with me. I dance in them and scream as they tear me apart and fill me with bliss.

And I don’t do them enough.
I run from them with these things called busy.
Gods love finds me anyway.

Boddisatva of 3am ramblings.
Truths of Dogma replayed.
Peace reflected in turkey and Black Snake Moan.
Breathe… asthma inhaler and truth.

29 huh?
I am blessed and baffled.
Still in my 20s? The world speaks in modernity of fearing 30 but I am baffled by not being there yet. But it gives me more time to learn.
And more than that- more time to incorporate, to absorb into my pores.

I woke up today, when I truly woke not the 5am waking screaming that I knew and warned would come with 4 hours of sleep to the smile of Nina H. Flashbacks to cabin laughter and long tales. I breathe in and am loved.

Some days its easier, and the word “ordeal path” slap me like a fish in the face. Its not always easy Lee, remember- its called PRACTICE for a reason.

Love. Love sheep, sheep of love, the laughter echoes.


People ask me what I did for my birthday:
I took photos in the sun.
I laughed.
I became a babboon, a badger, and a bra-headed boy.
Jokes erupted from my lips.
I yelled at a good woman.
Miscommunications were had.
I looked at not knowing
I drank uneventful Shiraz.
I watched some very funny TV shows (Big Bang Theory rocks, as does How I Met Your Mother)
I bled.
I felt joy.
Walking alone brought bliss to my face.
I curled up and smiled.
I visited an amazing home with concrete cassueries and winged seahorses
Small dogs were my friends.
Pigs conquered the earth.
I cried.
I took calls.
I thanked mi madre for giving birth to me.
I was challenged.
I stretched.
I tried to grow.


I close my eyes again.
I know what practice is.
And yet.
And yet.