Permission to create: Behind the scenes of this blog

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I’ve been lightly looking into Vedic astrology these days, and I have come to see that both Venus and the Moon have a strong influence on my life. Venus is the mother of creativity, she is the force that sends sparks of inspiration to me. That’s how inspiration feels to me – little sparkles that I try to capture and write down into a long list of ideas that I want to bring to life one day. Some days these sparks seldom come, other days it feels like I am on fire. I’ve noticed a true and deep connection between my inspiration and my spiritual practice. The more consistently I maintain my spiritual practice, the more my day is filled with fireworks. I write in my blog much more when I am connected to my practices, when I am living my truest, most authentic life.

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My little bird that flew away

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Life has been floating by. I stopped writing and I stopped taking photographs. I just couldn’t find it in me. I think there was too much to feel and be a part of lately.

After Mia’s due date passed, I couldn’t quite come back from it.  The day itself was as difficult as I had anticipated, but there was a heaviness in the weeks to follow that made life slow and tired.  I feel forever changed, touched by death.

I spent a short time with my parents in BC. One afternoon I said to my mother “I am to you what Mia is to me. You must love me so much.”

My mom just smiled.

Slowly, I find myself coming back to my words.

And I wrote something about my daughter. It was too big to be a poem, and too small to be a story. So here it is, rough, but loved – a little piece of writing from my heart.


I waited for you, for a very long time, since the beginning of the winter, since the beginning of time. You promised you would come one summer, and that one day we would meet, one day we would fly together, and my heart would be complete.

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Mother’s Day

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Mia,

in your 6 months of life you changed everything

you made a girl into a mother

a man into a father,

you turned two into three,

you showed me life,

you showed me death,

you are as close to me as you are far

with only one infuriating inch of space that separates us

and even though I am a mother who has to understand 

that your journey in this life was a short one,

I can’t help but wish that you were in my life

instead of all around it. 

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Born still, but still born

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My baby was born still,

in a quiet room,

with her big eyes closed.

But she was still born,

just sleeping soft,

held 6 months in my womb.

My baby was so small,

that she fit right in

to her father’s hand

My baby was

still born, but she was still held

My  baby’s heart did not beat,

but mine was broken,

cracked in two

and yet all the while, 

bursting in ecstacy for her 

because my baby was 

still born, but she was still loved.

My baby was born in quiet room,

and she did not cry,

but the roar of her presence 

was so loud 

because my baby was

still born, but she was still heard.

The next day

my baby was taken away,

to another room and another world

that we could not go,

but she lives on within us

because my baby was

still born, but she is still ours

My baby was set free,

in a soft stream

of cool flowing water,

my baby was born still,

but she was still born

and still my daughter.

A messy poem I have written for our girl. It isn’t perfect, and nothing seems to flow, but it is the truest reflection of what is in my heart.

Well, I always said I wanted to make my blog more personal – to write about my experiences and about life as I’m living it, rather than it being a textbook of instructions. And now it can’t be anything but intimate. I can’t write anything other than my truth, and what is at the center of it. And right now, the center of it is a blend of deep grief and gladness.

I like to write. Writing is soothing and healing for me. And so I will write.

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Touched by life

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Today, I spoke to all with
the warm familiarity of old friendship,

I looked at everything with the
adoring gaze of soulmates,

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The Joy of Nothing

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Today I wanted to write about the joy of nothing. I wanted to write a post the way I usually do, to explain this concept, but a poem came through instead.

Some of the most beautiful things that have happened to me are best expressed as poetry. This is a semi-formed poem. It didn’t become the poem I intended it to be, it became something else.

It was born out of a meditation and a certain knowingness I have come to understand in my life that, maybe there is nothing standing in the way of me and my soul. Maybe it takes absolutely nothing to be joyful.

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My favourite Rumi poetry

My favourite

I really needed to take a break from studying for my exam on Thursday. My brain feels like a ball of fuzz.

The other evening, I was in the living room with Sean, my roommate. And in my sleepy-brain-fuzzy-haze, I put the lights out in the room and then casually sat down to eat dinner (in the dark). Sean got up and put the light back on. I felt like something weird had just happened, I asked “Did I just….put the lights off?!” It was so funny! We laughed about that for a while. The strangest thing is that I did it AGAIN later that night! Haha.

So, given my history of doing weird things when tired, I think it is best I do take a break from studying.

Instead, I want to share with you some of my most loved quotes and poems by the Sufi poet/mystic Rumi.

This collection moves me and speaks to parts of me that are unspoken. That is poetry. It is interesting to me that while I love to write and document my life through prose and journalling, some of the most beautiful or haunting things that have happened to me are best expressed as poetry. I wonder why that is.

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Poetry Friday: They

“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.”

Maya angelou

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Poetry Friday: We will find our place

“I love her and that is the beginning and end of everything”

F. Scott Fitzgerald

This poem is about a promise I am going to make.

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