releasing faith...

a little over a year ago, a writer whose work i've admired, gave me a 20 dollar bill. i put it in an envelope, which i labeled, "faith money"--a self promise that some day, like this writer, i too would be living my dreams. i also promised that i would not spend this money unless i had absolutely no other choice; thankfully since that time, i've had other choices.

and then, this morning: i thought about how within the last year, i have repeatedly placed my self belief at the mercy of others' judgment--often deciding that my failure/success depended upon their support. this afternoon, i spent the money. finally. but before handing it to the cashier, i wrote on its face: "all the faith you need is already within you." may this find the right person at the right time.


tekere, tekere!

this, "tekere", is my favorite song by the marvelous salif keita; i dance (sitting, standing, lying) whenever i hear it. and the women in the video make me proud that i am one of them. watch the one at the 4:26 and 4:55 marks--she knows she's got it. and it's so good to have it. the confidence of her body makes me smile...


keeping on

this, posted as an advisory above the bus windows:

please hold on. sudden stops are sometimes necessary.

today, i find this as true for life, as for the bus.

and as i type this, i spot on the back of a young woman's tee:

este es mi tiempo.

and so it is.


in/out the body...

about a year and a half ago, as i committed more seriously to the process of trusting myself, and what i know to be true, i began noticing my body's reaction to the people, things, and events in my world. my sense of knowing resides within my gut: when there is a lurch, a tightening, or a scattering, i know something is awry, even if i can't articulate the what, just then. i sometimes say to friends that i am less moved by what a person says or does, and more by what i feel about him/her, within my gut.

these days, my ongoing lesson is expression--speaking, doing, and being who i truly am, as opposed to what i imagine is more acceptable or pleasing to whomever or whatever i am facing. in turn, i am finding that the more i allow myself to be whomever i might be, the more room i have for others to be themselves. i grow and heal more when i discover who others really are, than when i hold them to the ideals i've imagined.

as i am more committed to saying what is true for me, and doing what feels right to my soul, my gut is settling, and even more love meets me on my path.


ai du

what he does with that thing, always makes me smile. and he sings:

"trust and faith in your fellow man has no equal.
if you have experienced trust, you know its strength.
you must know yourself to know others."

unwilling club dues

a recent conversation with my mum, who often uses yoruba proverbs to explain things, makes me think this:

dear misery,

i no longer love your company. so, please stop calling me, texting me, emailing me, asking me to join you--i don't want to.



butterfly is still emerging

on a day when each dream was too slow, or not at all, "butterfly is still emerging" was the front page headline of the san francisco newspaper that was in every driveway/lawn of the street on which i was jogging. and because i believe in signs, that sign is now taped to the back of my bedroom door so that when i beg, "when, dear god, when?", i might remember to look up, away from my angst, and see that it's all in process after all.

i am here: sorting it through, anticipating the what is next. and this summer: my short story, "unaddressed," appears in the special fiction issue of the antioch review.

i haven't had patience as a virtue, but now am ready to try.