Today, after a long fought battle with cancer my mother passed. I am beyond devastated that she is gone. She has molded and formed the person I am. She has always encouraged my creativity. I remember her pushing me as a child to read a poem I wrote at Christmas church service. It was one of the first things I remember sharing with anyone I ever wrote. Years later I went through illness and had begun keeping journals again. I remember showing them to her one night, filled with fear that the thoughts in my head woukd never translate, only to have her truly understand and encourage me to write more. This spring I wrote a rough draft of a novel, and even in her sickness, and unfocused thinking due to chemo, took the time to read it and again gave me nothing but encouragement and told me how proud she was of me. I wouldn’t have been half the person I am without her in my life thus far. So I guess it’s fitting, when today I got an email, reminding me it was 4 years ago today that I started this blog as part of a way to put my thoughts and works out into the world in a small capacity. I will never forget my mother or all the things she has taught me. Nor the unhindered encouragement she always gave eagerly.


This is…

It starts as a tickle

An old familiar feeling

That creeps up my spine

Across my tongue

And in through my eyes.

It settles in my mind

Like a restless sea.

Thrashing about

Tossing this ship

Against the rocky shores.

Ripped to jagged boards

I can’t breathe.

With these

Waterlogged lungs.




I spin and swim

Only to return at start again.

Over and over again.

Weight of the water

Crushes me.

I try to cry

But the salty tears

Bleed into the ocean

Only building this feeling

Of inescapable death.

Or sleep.

Or something my mind

Cannot fully comprehend.

Because it’s no longer here.

There is only this primal brain

Raging on

Consuming everything I am.

And if I could just feel your hand

Or hear your voice

Maybe I could be okay,

But I am not.

Not even close.

I am swallowed up


I am lost at sea.

Unable to drown

Yet unable to live.

No rhyme

Nor rhythm

Nor reason

Nor purpose.

This is anxiety.


I Believe

I just want to be creative.

To bring the joy and wonderment in my mind to life.

I want to live like every breath is meaningful.

Even the shuddering gasps through teary eyes.

They will mean something,

Because they are proof that I can still feel.

That even though the world around me is crumbling and burning,

Somehow I can still believe.

What do I believe, I don’t think it counts as a religion.

I believe in hope.

I have faith that given the right momentum the world can change.

The world can tip towards the light and out of the darkness.

If enough people not only wish it so,

But make it happen.

I believe in the power of nature.

I believe in the power of the quiet and silent moments.

The moments of reflection.

Without the busy chaos of this so-called”normal” life.

I believe in the moments where you can hear your own breath.

Hear your own heart beating and remember you are alive.

I believe on imagination.

I believe in goodness and kindness.

I believe there is good in all of us.

If we just take the time to look.



Independence of oneself is not something that takes years of training, but rather a choice. A choice that you are strong enough. You are good enough. You are not afraid to be whatever you want to be. Independence of oneself starts in the soul, and works its way to the fingertips. It is a movement within yourself, deciding to forget the Earthly societal norms and discover true individuality. To be comfortable in your own skin. And to refused to be judged for anything less than your own merit of self.

Caucasian mid-adult man standing alone on beach looking at ocean at sunrise.