To Everything there is a Season

… and a time to every purpose, under Heaven.

Today, I went for a walk. And, there was a very specific purpose for that walk. I walked to a place that is sacred to me, a place where I have, in the past, been able to reflect and find peace during times in my life when I was in inner turmoil. This time was no different. But instead of just sitting there to think and, perhaps, to journal, I needed to bury something; to physically, symbolically cut ties with a certain person who has appeared on this blog numerous times.

Without going into too much detail, I created a little ceremony for myself in order to sever a connection with “Milo” (whom I’ve written of in the past). I took heart-shaped pieces of paper and, on each one, wrote our names and the names of those I feel he and I have been in shared past lives. I tore each piece in two so that the two names would no longer be connected then burned the pile of torn paper while giving thanks to God/dess for the lessons, the love and the connection we have shared and praying for more beneficial relationships in the future that will also lead me to more lessons, love and connection. It was the ashes of the paper I needed to bury to complete my “ceremony.”

As I walked over the footbridge that crossed the lake on my hike in order to get to my sacred place, I remembered the last time I’d walked that path with Milo in mind. At the time, the lake was full, teeming with fish. And, as I looked over it, I saw the ripples in the water and composed a poem:


What effect has my one pebble
when compared to the ripples made by the wind?

Is God’s hand not greater than mine,
large enough to diminish my careless toss?

waves abound,
made by the stirrings of many

So why does my hand hesitate
to cast my stone far and wide?

Why not make my fleeting mark
upon the vastness of this little lake?

(Frances Marie Reilly – 5.21.10)

Four years later, and I finally felt the change I needed within me. And, as I walked, a heron flew towards me, then stopped at a rock and seemed to point, with its beak, the direction of my path. (Why do I mention this? Google “animal spirits meaning heron”.)

At my special spot, I sat on a rock, closed my eyes and felt the wind, listened to the birds and creek while I prayed for completion, for closure and openness. I gave gratitude for the love, the patience of the Universe (as I felt I’ve lived through this cycle and have had to learn these lessons repeatedly, over eons), and the God-given strength I knew to exist within me. I meditated, listened and felt the energy of the Earth, of the Sky and the Wind, then drank Water to cleanse. Nobody’s ritual but my own, I knew, in my core, this was all necessary. Lastly, I dug a hole near some daisy-like flowers (so fitting, because I have always associated that flower with Milo), and as I filled it, again gave gratitude and put into it the intention of closure, change and growth.

As I walked back from whence I came, I reflected on the lightness I felt in my core. I realized that I was doing something I LOVE. I love to hike. This was a significant realization for me because it was the very thing I have been agonizing over for at least two years. In trying to decide on a career path, the question of “what do you love to do?” often arises, and, to my dismay, I have thought “I don’t really love to do anything.” I have been in a dark place of sadness thinking that I truly felt I had no passions in my life and that, somehow, that made me a lesser person. And, because of this, I would never “make my fleeting mark upon the vastness of this little lake.” But, here I was… just having completed a symbolic act, and at that moment, the sense of lack, of lowered self-worth lifted in some strange way. All because I realized that I love love love walking in nature.

Almost to my car, I stopped to watch a hummingbird, which seemed to stop to watch me. Google “hummingbird spirit animal,” and you’ll find “The hummingbird spirit animal symbolizes the enjoyment of life and lightness of being.” I also love that “this fascinating bird is capable of the most amazing feats despite its small size…” because I’m 4’10”!!

Can you feel my joy through this post?! In one short walk, I managed to let go a Love that no longer served me (a very difficult thing to do indeed), to reclaim that part of my heart so that, with a whole heart, I am open to new Love, to new experiences and lessons. I remembered my powerful Self – that through intention and ceremony (and maybe a bit of magic), I reclaimed, or just recognized, my inner strength and felt my Light and knew Passion.

It is so hard, in one blog post, to really convey everything I took away from my hike. The symbolism of the two animal totems – the heron and the hummingbird – are even more significant if I could tell you my whole story, my life in the present and the truly difficult, but necessary, situation I deal with daily. But, really, we all have those challenges in our lives. We all have the times we can’t figure out who we are, where we need to be, what we need to do. We all have things we need to let go, whether it’s stuff or, with more difficulty, people. And all these things wear us down, day after day, and its challenging to keep the darkness at bay (some times, we don’t even know it’s there) and remain positive through it all.

But, look at what I remembered. We are, each of us, so very strong inside. We were born that way, born with the strength to accept and live through the challenges and lesson Life gives us, and made even stronger by meeting those challenges which, with lessons learned, increase the Light within.

This time that is upon us now is a good time, a good season. I, for one, am looking forward to the new challenges ahead and finding my passions and my strength, my light. For, it is my time, my season, as it is … yours.

A time to build up,a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together

To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)
There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing

To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)
There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time for love, a time for hate
A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late

i am the girl of a hundred lists

The other night, when I was hanging out with my gal pals, one of them mentioned that she was just now coming out of the hole she’d dug. She is finally settling down into her new home, built after the old one was lost in a wildfire two years ago. She meant that she is now ready to see people, entertain and stop being reclusive. And… that her hole was a self-made one.

Her words were visually appealing to me, especially since I realized only very recently myself that I’ve been in a hole (for nearly a year) and am finally pulling myself out of the darkness and into the blessed fresh air and light. When you’re in a hole, every days things can get.. forgotten. Things pile up, and you can imagine why and how.

This past weekend, I was in the light long enough to realize that I want — I need — order in my life. I’ve read time management books in the past, have tried different methods, to be more organized so that I’m not mired in a pit of endless things weighing in the back of my mind. I think was able to accomplish that this week.

My fall back time management device is the Franklin Planner System. I started using it long before it was acquired by Covey, and it’s based on Benjamin Franklin’s notebooks.

The system is simple.
Write a daily task list of all the things that need to be done.
Prioritize them by marking each task with “A”s, “B”s and “C”s — the A’s being most important.
Then, prioritize those in order of what needs to be done — 1, 2, 3, etc.
Simply do the tasks in order.

As you complete a task, cross the item off. If a task needs to be done later, because of follow-up or what-have-you, “forward” that task the to correct future date (tomorrow, next week, next month, you get the idea).

My challenge is to make sense of the multiple roles I play: as property manager, as mom, as artist and as my own woman. Franklin Covey has awesome tabs you can get for your planner and which you can mark for your separate roles. But since I work from home and can be flexible with how I use my time, it’s helpful for me to have everything written on one page, split into the different “categories.”

I started this on Monday, with a bit of pre-planning on Sunday. I got everything on my task lists crossed off or forwarded … before noon!

It is unbelievable how free I felt. My mind had no clutter, no worries (since everything I was thinking about had already been written down into one date or another as a task)… just …
well, let’s just say that not only did I have a feeling of accomplishment, I also had enough time to work a bit on my art, try out some new ideas, and just sit on the couch with the puppy (an excellent form of meditation).

It’s too soon to be a habit, and yeah, tasks lists are endless (like dishes…ugh). But, if I can remember that feeling of freedom and appreciate the “found” time, then I know I’ll be super-focused as I make these lists and complete these tasks. Because then, there’ll be time and space to dream, and create, and play and…. the possibilities are endless.

Lost Time by Rabindranath Tagore
On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time.
But it is never lost, my lord.
Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands.

Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts,
buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness.

I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed
and imagined all work had ceased.
In the morning I woke up
and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.

slightly panicked

I’m slightly panicked.. very anxious.. I’ve had to make some tough decisions in the past day and a half, and well… any decision is a gamble, right? It could be right, or wrong. 50 -50 and, frankly, I’m not a gambling gal.

So, I wrote this the other day, on the 10th… not exactly a poem, just thoughts:


my heart is beating really fast.
I’m waiting
just waiting
for him to call
to text
to …
drop another shoe.

Each new piece of information
feeding my obsession
does little to comfort me.

I feel my heart
stuck in my throat
pounding in my chest
sinking in my stomach.
It’s beating so fast
and I’m waiting
just waiting
for it to stop
to end
to …
turn to dust.

So now, the other shoe dropped. Yesterday he told me he met the gal in NYC. He doesn’t wanna “boink” her even though she’s cute, etc., but they are now better friends than ever.

So, I made a decision.
I decided I respect and love myself too much to allow myself to be with a man who must have his “friends” because, honestly, this is an emotional affair, whatever he wants to call it. If he’s gonna spend his energy getting to know some other woman better, even though he’d never met her before (and so what if she’s a “fan”) rather than try to work things out with me….
and if he’s gonna go ahead and develop that friendship despite the fact I told him how I felt about it, that it was giving me an anxiety attack to think about it and how I don’t like it…
then, he made his choice, and it wasn’t me.

So, now I’ve made the decision I think he was hoping I’d make, because he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

And now I’ve gotta run to take my son to the doctor. Life goes on.

poem 3

I mentioned before that I had the BF write me poems, and for each one, I had a response. Well, here’s one that was my “response poem” to his “poem 3.” He only sent me three total.

Anyway, I’m posting this poem tonight because, earlier today, I had a mild anxiety attack. His affair had many repercussions; among them, my self-image is totally wrecked.

I think my self-esteem wasn’t great to begin with, but I never had a problem with how I look. Anyway, so I was trying on clothes today. And, nothing looked good, nothing fit, and I didn’t look good, and …
well, all sorts of thoughts were going through my head.
And, I realized I was having an anxiety attack. I was able to see it and stop myself, but… it’s just sucky that now I have to deal weird anxiety on top of everything else. So, here it is.

poem 3

i’ve wandered the forest
mostly alone
but catching glimpses
of you
between the trees

the knowledge of a fellow traveler
comforts me
your unseen presence
protects me
from the shadows

i see we walk
on separate paths
divergent now
but with the hope
they meet up ahead

sunlight breaks through
the forest trees
some times warming me
some times warming you

i become afraid
as i hear the wolves stalk me
i think i see
the convergence ahead

and with joy i run
to meet you
for we can fight
this battle together

and with horror i come
to the fork in the road
to see your path
has been deserted

no sunshine i find
only shadows creep closer
the forest is still
i’m alone
and i scream

liar, liar, pants on fire

There can be no doubt that all trust is gone from this relationship.  (Ironically, he trusts me even less than I trust him.)  Still, one must start with a little bit of trust if there is any hope of rebuilding.

I am highly emotional tonight as I write this (he says I only operate on emotion. I say he’s an asshole for saying that) because there is always something “new” to find out.  Of course, all these books on affairs will tell you I’m obsessing… oh well, so tonight’s not such a good night.

I go through my mind and wonder what, in the past four years, has been the truth and what a lie.  Has there been, in the past month, complete honesty since the truth was revealed?  What new promises were kept; which were already broken?

It is almost too much to ask a person to live with this uncertainty. How does one live thinking that, perhaps, the entire world is false?  It is too much.

I wrote this tonight ‘cuz I can’t sleep, though I’m utterly exhausted from nearly five weeks of little sleep and a virus that’s attacking my lungs.  The virus is nothing compared to the sadness.


I see the words from your mouth
like smoke
barely there
no substance
perhaps not real at all

i hear the sounds of your voice
that flow
over me
but they are silent

you speak with reason
sane in your words
and in your thoughts
but truth has no place
in the content
of what you say

i believe with faith
stupid in my trust
and in my confidence
for truth has no place
in the spirit
of what you say

I guess it’s not done yet, but I am so very tired.. in body and spirit. I guess that means it’s time to sleep.

The Power of Words

So in those first few days of rage and hurt, I asked the bf “what about her was so appealing to you?” (apparently, this is a common question from the “Betrayed”)
There were a lot of things, I was told, but one thing was the “words,” the flirtation they engaged upon. And, since she is also a singer-songwriter, he “admired” her use of words.
Well, that pissed me the hell off! For more reasons than I’ll get into right now.

Being the vindictive, or just, person I am (it can be seen either way, I think), I demanded that he write me a poem everyday. because, really.. if he was gonna write Her those lovely emails (yes, I demanded to see those, too), then he would need to give me as many beautiful words.

Kinda backfired on me.
He wrote me a few poems all right, but not about me or our love or anything having to do with us.
He wrote about himself and his situation. Well, screw it!

That’s ok, ‘cuz I may not be a singer-songwriter musician goddess like She, but I’m not bad with words either.
In fact, I think (and told him so) that her lyrics are trite (ok.. that’s not totally true. maybe two songs are rather clever. I am fair, after all). And, my words can be equally appealing.
So, I wrote poetry back. One response for each one he wrote me.

And, actually, it’s become rather cathartic. He only wrote a few, but I’m continuing to write more, as the mood strikes me.

Here’s one I wrote early on, about a week after I found out about the affair.
I know everyone’s got their own understanding of what’s good poetry. whatever. It is what it is..

I Wait

i sit
at the edge
of a cold abyss

i wait
dangling my toes

i breathe
stale air
to stay alive

i sit
at the edge
of a deep, dark pool

i wait
dangling my toes

i touch
cold water
to stay aware

i sit
at the edge
of a mountain top

i wait
dangling my toes

i smell
burnt trees
to remember

i stand
at the edge
and jump

i wait
no longer

i free
of everything