Thin Places

Spurred on by my readings in The Feminine Face of God, I decided to attend a Full Moon Circle this week. It's an all-women spirituality group that I've only been to a handful of times. This week's theme was about thin places; places that are personally sacred. We each went around the room and shared heartfelt stories about where we have felt close to the sacred. The locations spanned the whole world. Some of mine include the beach in Belize I've written about before as well as mountains in general, especially The Blue Ridge Parkway. After sharing about my own thin places and hearing about other people's, I became worried. All the thin places I could imagine were either in the past or not some place I could easily access. Several people spoke of thin places that were special and sacred to them now. I racked my brain and realized a surprising thin place for me: prayer. Not prayer by myself, which I admittedly don't practice very often, at least not in the traditional sense. Art, writing, and singing are my personal prayers. I'm talking about the prayers I say with other people, usually in my role as a Chaplain, worship leader, or with my family.

As a Chaplain, I pray with my patients and their families. In my current cultural location, my prayers often reflect the most common theological perspectives here. It's taken me a while to become comfortable doing so. Mostly, my language reflects a theology that is not part of my current beliefs and yet, strangely, has still felt authentic for me. My discomfort has mostly been present because I haven't been able to understand how I could believe differently and yet feel so authentic in prayer. Recently, in The Feminine Face of God, I came across a phrase from a woman who was once a Roman Catholic nun who left her order and has since pursued painting images of the goddess as a reflection of her spirituality. "My Catholic heritage and environment have been like a beautiful river flowing over my subterranean foundation in God the Mother," she writes in her introduction to The Mother's Songs, "The two movements are not in conflict, they simply water different layers in my soul." They simply water different layers in my soul. Yes, absolutely. This helped me find language for why I can feel personally different from the beliefs of my patients and yet can authentically and whole-heartedly pray with them and their families along our varied theological perspectives; because it waters my soul to do so and connects me with my foundational and initial belief system.

In worship settings, I typically am praying among other Unitarian Universalists and therefore the language I get to embrace reflects my current beliefs. It becomes a combination of prayer, meditation, and guided imagery. It feels comfortable and peaceful. It's almost as though I zone out. I seek the words that feel the most fitting and reflective of the mood, theme, and feeling of the service of which the prayer is a part. Sometimes, it takes me a moment to reemerge into the present moment. But typically I still remain connected to the sacred like the smoke of birthday candles that continue to waft through the air even after the flames have been blown out.

With my family, I'm usually asked to say a blessing before meals. One or both of my parents usually ask me to do this. I think they do it because of my vocation as a Chaplain. They used to try to ask my husband to do it, but Dan doesn't feel comfortable when being put on the spot like that. Over time, it has become my role and is seen as an honor. I embrace as one. Traditionally, in this cultural location, many families have a patriarch lead family prayers. I appreciate and value that my family challenges this tradition.

One last family prayer memory. I've written about it before, but it particularly stands out because it combined my role as a Chaplain and as a family member - as a granddaughter, daughter, niece, and wife. When my grandmother was dying last year, my mom asked me to pray for her. She asked me to do so because she sensed that my grandmother, her mother, needed a minister to provide care. And there I was, the Chaplain Granddaughter, present, willing and able. I accepted the challenge of my mom's request and sang several old hymns and ended them with a prayer. My grandmother died very shortly afterward. I like to think that my prayer comforted my grandmother and offered her peace, as well as provided love and compassion for my family present in the room.

Prayer with others is one of my thin places. It's a sacredness I have access to on a regular basis. I'm grateful for having this particular thin place and becoming aware of it. Thank you to all the women who were a part of this recent, personal discovery.

Blessed be.

Sacred Energy

The following exchange took place in the season finale of "Marvel: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D." It really spoke to me. I watched the episode twice and really paid attention to this scene both times. Spoiler alert if you haven't yet seen the episode!

Jemma Simmons: I like to think about the first law of thermodynamics, that no energy in the universe is created and...

Leo Fitz, Jemma Simmons: None is destroyed.

[Both smile]

Jemma Simmons: That means that every bit of energy inside us, every particle will go on to be a part of something else; maybe live as a dragonfish, a microbe, maybe burn in a supernova. And every part of us now was once a part of some other thing - a moon, a storm cloud, a mammoth.

Leo Fitz: A monkey.

Jemma Simmons: [Smiles] A monkey. Thousands and thousands of other beautiful things that were just as terrified to die as we are. We gave them new life; a good one, I hope.

My journey through The Feminine Face of God continues. The chapter I'm currently reading is about the women's first encounters with the divine. There seem to be a few themes that remained constant throughout the interviews with all the women. The first is that most of the women described experiencing the sacred during their childhood, "whether it was felt in the body as an infusion of energy or light, or took the form of a dialogue with angels, the ability to see auras, or an experience in nature." Another theme is that these experiences rarely remained heightened throughout adolescence and adulthood. Often, the women's peers, parents, or inner self squelched the expression of the divine and they lost the ability to feel its presence, sometimes for decades.

My first experience with a sense of the divine occurred in my backyard during my childhood. Jumping on my trampoline was always a joyful experience. I miss the feeling of flipping around on the bouncy material; of the texture beneath my feet and hands, its smell on a hot day, the burn when I miscalculated a move and my skin slid across its surface... During summer days, I would set up the sprinkler and either jump over or right through the water arcs as they pulsed back and forth. But at night, I would experience a different deep sense of joy. I would lie on my back and watch the stars. I would see constellations, shooting stars, and planes. I remember the deep feeling of awe I experienced when I first really noticed that the world was moving. I had learned this fact in school, but it was another thing altogether to actually see it. It felt like an enormous privilege. As a child this felt miraculous. I felt like I was a part of something bigger than myself. I felt incredibly small but not at all insignificant. On the contrary, I felt enormously excited to be a part of it. To this day, looking at the stars on a dark, clear night is still one of my absolutely favorite things to do. In fact, one of my best memories took place on the shore of Monkey River Belize when the small town where I was staying turned off its generator at night and the world became dark for 50-100 miles around. I would walk alone on the shore of this tiny island, lie in the sand by the lapping waves, and look up at more stars than seemed possible to see. It took my breath away and caused many shed tears simply because of the vastness of what I was seeing. Sometimes it breaks my heart to remember because the memory has faded and become more surreal over the years. But whenever I need to mentally travel away from a difficult or stressful situation, that is most definitely my happy place. 

As I read the various personal stories presented in The Feminine Face of God, I thought about the scene from S.H.I.E.L.D. shared above. It spoke to my inner truth. The stories also made me think about the overall "amount" of spirituality/soul/sacred energy able to be shared. If I accept the first law of thermodynamics - that no energy in the universe is created and none is destroyed - as true, and furthermore if I accept that this means that all energy within all living creatures comes from something else, then my mind goes wild with scenarios. These thoughts are all very raw and little developed, but I still wanted to share and process them. So here goes.

I imagine the universe to be so much larger than I can possibly imagine. However, if no energy is created, that means the amount of energy available is ultimately finite and has therefore been a part of something else before it becomes a part of our lives as walking, breathing, living people. This makes me think of the concept of reincarnation as well as Ralph Waldo Emerson's "The Over-Soul." I wish I was better versed in each of these concepts, but here is my rudimentary summary of each as I understand them.

Reincarnation is the belief that when one dies, one's life force, spirit, or soul becomes a part of a new living being. And my favorite description of Emerson's Over-Soul came from a guest speaker in my UU church. She described it as a large pitcher of "soul" or "spirit." She went on to say that as each person is born, a portion of this Over-Soul is used to fill the person. It becomes a part of them. Then, as one dies, it returns to the source to be used to fill another being. Both of these concepts seem to echo the first law of thermodynamics. They feel like deep truth to me. They also makes me think of those people who are described as "old souls." Are these people who are more aware of or in touch with their soul? And therefore more in touch with their past sacred selves? All this makes me wonder if my spiritual energy was once a part of a star and if that's why I'm so drawn to them.

It seems like there is a downshift in spirituality with each new generation of people. Is it possible to consider that with each new generation there is less sacred energy at the core of people because there's only so much to go around? As though the overall amount of spirituality is diluted as the earth becomes overloaded with people? But on the other hand, that's presuming quite a lot about the earth and its inhabitants which are, after all, only a very small speck in the grand scheme of the universe. Perhaps it's not about dilution as much as disconnection; disconnection from one's own sacred self. I do think that it's fair to say that people as a whole are spending less time in tune with nature, and therefore less time pondering and wondering about the sacred. I make this comparison because nature and sacredness are so intertwined to me.

In The Feminine Face of God, there is this paragraph:

"When we are children everything in our environment vibrates with aliveness. Plants and trees, insects and animals, pebbles and rocks, sky and sea have something to say to us, and we are not self-conscious about talking to them in return. In some elemental way we seem to know that to connect is to respond, and as children we respond to everything. Whether we are walking barefoot on cool grass, smelling the earth's fragrance as we lie on our belly tracking an insect, or catching raindrops on our tongue during a summer shower, we know that we are intimately related to the natural world and that there is a mystery at the heart of this intimacy."

I think we lose our sense of wonder and awe in the race to adulthood. Once there, perhaps we don't take the time to be still, look, smell, taste, and experience all that the natural world has to offer. Enough with this "we" talk. I'm going to speak for myself. I don't do these things. I don't stop as often I would like to amazed by what's around me. I do make an effort to appreciate the beauty of photos. But anyone who has ever visited the Grand Canyon will tell you, a photo will NEVER show the magnitude and incredibleness of the actual experience. There's nothing like engaging more than one sense at a time to really feel connected to the natural world!

Tomorrow I plan to make an effort toward this end. I'm going to spend the morning with a sister friend and her two young children - 5 and 3 years old. We're going to a park so I can capture photos of her children at a new age swinging on a swing set. This has become a tradition of ours over the last few years. Each year, we take swinging photos to show how her children have changed doing the same activity. But I also plan on trying to see the park through their childlike eyes; to notice things I might otherwise overlook and be happy and joyful in the moment. 

As I continue to read The Feminine Face of God, I feel as though something sacred is stretching out and making much needed room within me. It's as though my spirit self is filling me more fully, rolling her eyes good-naturedly that it took me this long, and yet feeling proud of my attempts nonetheless. The women in this book have not only described these childhood experiences and their suppression of them, they have also expressed a reconnection to their spirituality. This gives me hope. My spiritual muscles are weak. I spend so much time reaching out to my patients and families, trying to connect them with their definitions of the sacred that my own experiences have been quite vicarious for a while now. However, this book is changing that for me. It's on par with when I worked through Julia Cameron's The Artist Way several years ago. And for any of you who know me, you know that that is quite high praise!

A question I'm going to try to ponder and live out more often: What can I do today to nourish my spiritual self and sacred energy? Today it was spend time with family, read more of my book and write this post. Tomorrow, it will be deeply enjoying the park with my sister and her children and taking photos. The next day, who knows?!

Representing One's Religion and Faith

I was having a conversation with a dear friend the other night. She too is Unitarian Universalist. When she had just begun attending the local UU church here, it was at a time when she worked at a very mono-religious place. She didn't fit the primary religious culture there, but the topic of religion and faith came up often. She was put into the position of explaining and representing her faith. This was all as a very recent UU who was early on in her own personal faith within this religion! She was questioned about her faith, and not just on a personal level. She was asked to explain the entirety of the religion. That is a tough task for anyone! However, I think it's even more difficult to ask someone to play this role when they are not a part of the dominant faith culture.

Most UUs I know are expected to have an "elevator speech" prepared that describes our faith because it's not a part of common understanding. This is true even among UUs because our faith is so personalized. Our faith does not require absolutes and answers. It's more about a searching and seeking for what is authentic for oneself. It does not mean "everything goes." It means finding ways to promote love, understanding, and personal responsibility. I think it's a difficult enough task to try to find an authentic way to live out one's faith without feeling the need to explain and, in some cases, defend it. There seems to be a precarious balance between a personal journey and representing it. One is an internal and the other external.

I still have a difficult time identifying my faith and what drives me at times. And I'm still really not comfortable saying "I'm not a Christian" because there are so many ramifications regarding my life as a Chaplain. But my truth is that I do believe that Jesus, among other leaders, was a guru and sage. I think he was a wise man who challenged conventional wisdom, did not fit the norm or expected, and promoted love and acceptance. But I cannot find truth or a need to believe in the story of the resurrection. His life is enough for me. I find encouragement and hope in his story as well as in the stories of other religious, political, social and scientific leaders throughout the ages.

My husband made an interesting point one day that has stuck with me. He said he thinks he is "culturally, but not religiously, Christian." We, as a part of the US culture, partake in Christmas and, to a lesser extent, Easter because we were raised within that culture. Does it speak to us religiously? No. But do we still find meaning in some of the rituals, especially those that gather our families together? Yes. I compare it to a person who identifies as Jewish because it is a part of their cultural makeup, but not necessarily a part of their daily or weekly life.

This past Sunday, my church's minister said something I appreciated and agree with: the world is changing. The religious landscape of our country is also changing. And many religions are going to have a difficult time because they are based on ideas that are more or less fixed. But Unitarian Universalism was and is built on a foundation able to shift and change much like the buildings of California able to move safely during earthquakes. It's current and willing to shift. My hope is that it will continue to have foundations of love, hope, and peace.

The subjects in this blog are so difficult for me to share in such an open forum, especially the part about not being a Christian, that I don't plan on sharing in on Facebook as I have with my last couple of blog posts. But I'm grateful that I was open and honest in this post and am still hopeful that someone might read it and value it.

Womanhood and Moving Forward

As I was continuing my reading of The Feminine Face of God last night, I was struck by a couple passages I wanted to share here.

The first: "We had to ask, What is the face of God that can be revealed through women? We proposed to look for the answers to this question by studying the life stories of thirty women across North America who were recognized in their communities as sources of spiritual inspiration."

The question at the center of the authors' research is very interesting. What IS the face of God that can be revealed through women? I'm so curious about the results they found because they've alluded to similarities among the responses. I hope to connect with some of the feelings and thoughts that were shared. Their intention was to interview 30 women, but in the end they interviewed more than 100.

As for myself, my first thoughts are that my own spirituality and femininity is tied up with nature. I wonder if this has something to do with our menstrual cycles naturally lining up with the moon cycle? Very clearly, there is a connection and physical pull tied in with the rhythm of nature.

When reading that they were planning to interview women who were "recognized in their communities as sources of spiritual inspiration" I was brought up short. I work as a hospice and hospital chaplain everyday. But would I be considered a source of "spiritual inspiration" within the community? I just don't know. It made me realize that I would like to continue the steps within the Unitarian Universalist Association to be "fellowshipped," which is the process by which ministers in the UU Church are endorsed by the larger association. It's what ordination is in many other church organizations.

To have this support and endorsement would make me feel like a larger part of the faith tradition of which I've chosen to belong. It's the difference between being a Chaplain who is Unitarian Universalist and being a Unitarian Universalist Chaplain. The problem is, I have a difficult time trying to navigate the process that I'm coming at sideways. I wish I could have an advisor and guide as one does in college to help sort through the requirements of particular degree programs. But if I don't take any steps, I'll never get anywhere. So I've reached out to a couple of people regarding writing me letters to help me sidestep a part of the process which I'm hoping will be deemed unnecessary considering how many years I've been in ministry as a Chaplain.

The last set of thoughts I want to get out for this blog post is about my need to connect with feminism and my own personal womanhood. I'm pretty sure it has to do with my desire to become a mom and my uncertainty whether or not my life path will include that role. Do I believe that women can be wholly feminine without being a mother? Of course! But I find that this is an expression of womanhood of which I hope to be a part. In the meantime, I want to connect with what it means to be a woman without being a mother. I was born into this group and want to more fully embrace what that could mean. Moreover, I want to more intentionally become a part of the spirituality of womanhood. Which brings me to the other concept brought forth by The Feminine Face of God.

The authors explain that at the beginning of their time together trying to map out their research for the book, they "walked outside and sat down opposite each other under the protective branches of a large oak tree. And there we did something we were to do almost every day for the next several years of our collaboration. We closed our eyes, sat in silence, and waited." I don't always feel connected to myself and my spirituality in silence, but I do think it's worth making time to settle into to deep thinking, listening, and feeling of the sacred. And the idea of doing this with someone else seems worthy of the vulnerability and openness that would inevitably be required.

More thoughts to come!

Love and Connecting with Other Women

I belong to the Unitarian Universalist Church of Wilmington. Today in our church service, the Alto and Soprano voices of the choir offered "The Rose" as sung by Bette Midler. This is my parents' song and it was played during their wedding ceremony many years ago. Upon first listening to or reading the lyrics, it may not sound like something traditionally in the "our song" genre. It begins, "Some say love, it is a river that drowns the tender reed. Some say love, it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed. Some say love it is a hunger, an endless aching need. I say love, it is a flower and you it's only seed." My parents are each in their second marriage. Both had a very emotional and heart-wrenching break ups in their first marriages. But this September they will celebrate 32 years together. They snip at each other, they get frustrated at times, but ultimately they love one another and have stood by each other with love, faithfulness, and hope.

Some people experience a perversion of love. Something that drains them and tears them down rather than encourages and bolsters. I sincerely hope that all people, at some time or other, will be able to feel what it means to be loved deeply, authentically and wholly. And though this songs addresses the trenches of life, it also shows that love, in its most persistent nature, can withstand bitterness, anger, and cold. "...the seed, with the sun's love, in the Spring becomes the rose."

But what made this singing experience even more special was that it was sung by all women, myself among them. It began in unison and I think our voices blended together so well; it was light and ethereal. Then with each verse, harmony grew until three notes were weaving around one another. I personally was in the group singing the descant notes and I had a sense of floating above the melody. But even more than all this, our phrasing was beautifully together. Holding notes for the same length of time, gathering volume on crescendos, and breathing together as one. And it all felt so natural. I wonder if any of the other singers were as touched by our offering, because I felt so connected to each of them. It was a lovely and beautifying moment. I was so grateful to have been a part of it. And it helped me feel further connected with my womanhood, a theme of mine recently. I began The Feminine Face of God by Sherry Ruth Anderson and Patricia Hopkins this week. The overall intent of the book, as I understand at this time, is connecting with the feminine nature of spirituality as well as the feminine aspect of god. What about our spirituality is unique to us as woman and how can we grow and help one another have a deeper, more authentic relationship with our faith, spirituality, and life? I'm very interested in it and am even more encouraged to read it because one of my sister friends is reading it again for the second time. 

These experiences from this week and today made me want to process further in the way I only seem able to via blogging. So here I am, after yet another multiple month absence. We'll see what becomes of this, but hopefully I'll continue the book and will feel empowered to write and uncover more of my thoughts in this forum. 

What has been soul-nurturing for you this week?

Reminiscing on a Loss

The one year anniversary of my grandmother's death is approaching. I didn't realize it at first, but I think that explains the unexpected moments of weepiness I've been having this week. A year ago at this time, I was spending evenings and many days at a local nursing home, eating a lot of fast food dinners, crying and remembering with family and feeling the sadness of impending loss. I began 2013 with my grandma's death on the horizon. It was a difficult way to begin a year.

And yet, the year became one of hope, positive change, and possibilities. I'm hoping for a continuation of what's begun as 2014 rolls around.

But for tonight, I'd like to take a much needed moment and share some of my thoughts from a year ago at this time. I'm glad that I shared many of them on Facebook so I can look over them again now. So here are my previous and current thoughts.

"Some things worth mentioning: my grandma's health is failing quite dramatically. It's likely not long that she'll be with us. I'm having a difficult time processing the new year (newness, hope, openness, possibilities) with the inevitable loss of a loved one. I am still finding hope in my ever-present search for gratitude. I feel blessed being surrounded by family, sharing my life with my loving husband, when joining in laughter with friends, and receiving a kind and meaningful gift from a coworker. So far, a pensive 2013." Although this year clearly started out with difficulty, I'm thankful that I still made time for uncovering gratitude. I wish I had written down what the thoughtful gift was because I truly can't remember it. But I do remember feeling like care and compassion was coming at my family from all sides.

"Thank you all for your love and support. My grandma died peacefully earlier tonight. We feel very loved and cared for." I remember sharing this very soon after she died. I also remember that though I needed to share it with my friends, that it was too soon for some of my family to have everyone know. I became more conscious of sharing statuses that affected so many others.

"Wow. So many visitors and so much food at my mom's house. Wonderful to have so many loving and caring people in our world. Thank you!!" It was overwhelming. I'm a caregiver by career and my mom one by nature. We both had to step aside and allow ourselves to be loved, supported, and held up when we're used to doing that for others. Our helpless vulnerability became an opportunity to be recipients of love.

"On the night my grandma died, I sang old hymns to her. Then later my mom asked if I could say a prayer for her. She realized that a pastor had been out to visit with the family, but hadn't actually said a prayer with grandma. It was an emotional and touching moment to be able to pray for my grandma with my mom, my aunt, and my husband. She died less than an hour later. I will hold this as a treasured memory and I wanted to share it with my Facebook family." Of all my memories from a year ago, this is one of the most difficult for me to remember. It was so sacred; so beyond the mundane. It moves me to tears even now because it was a rare moment when all my "selves" combined. My Chaplain-self and my granddaughter/daughter/wife/niece-self joined to provide a spiritual need. I don't know if my grandma heard me singing to her. But my family did. And we held hands and cried together and felt deep feelings together. This is the moment I have been needing to remember, but it's also the one I've been dreading because of the depth of emotion stirred by remembering.

"Working on the draft for my grandma's service. Another way being a Hospice Chaplain has helped me. My brother and cousin are working on the words they want to read. I'm going to try to sing and read the letter to my grandma I wrote in my last blog. It'll be hard for all of us, but hopefully cathartic too." It was not my original intention to draft the service. But the process turned out to be very healing for me. And I did make it through both singing and speaking. I remember being much more nervous about the singing, because so many of my family members didn't even know I could sing. But in the end, speaking my own words was the much more trying task than singing those written by someone else. I remember having to take a moment, breathe through the knot in my throat, and continue on. After the service, I overheard one of my cousins talking on the phone to someone. He said the service was so sad! By his tone, however, he meant it as a compliment because he, and many others, thought that three of the grandchildren participating was very special. I think we would have made my grandma proud.

"We made it through my grandma's funeral service. It was beautiful and personal. So many family and friends gathered from all over the place! Thank you so much to everyone who came. You surrounded us all in love. Now we're spending time with family and enjoying great memories and yummy food." The same week as my grandma's service, I attended the funeral of a Roman Catholic patient of mine. My patient's service was almost entirely scripted from a Roman Catholic worship book. I think it was meaningful for the family, but the five minutes or so spent actually talking about the patient didn't feel like enough for me. I'm proud of the approach and time given to my grandma's service. It was certainly what we needed it to be.

"Thank you everyone for all the love and support. And especially thank you to Kody Kinsley, Kt Cassady, Robin Buzzeo, and Tracy Hawkins for the texts and calls. It's been wonderful to feel so loved." And I certainly did feel loved every day. I have some of the most wonderful friends ever. It's a gift to have them and another gift to be so aware of how deeply blessed I am. It's also wonderful that these friends are enduring souls in my life. They, along with Dan, have been sources of inspiration, laughter, support, silliness, and hope.

"I find that 'firsts' after someone dies are significant and sad. Even though it's been several weeks, I'm still seeing some people for the first time since my grandma died. They ask about her, I share, then I have to shed some tears to recover from another 'first.'" This post was brought on by someone at my work. We work for the same company, but not very closely. We ran into each other in the office and she very kindly asked, "How's your grandma?" It was at a time when I finally thought everyone knew she had died, so the question knocked the wind out of me and brought me up short for a moment. I had to go back to my desk and cry for a bit until I was able to temper my emotions.

"Making my grandma's soup tonight. Turns out my mom had the same idea and she made it tonight too!" We were surprised when we did this! I felt connected to my mom that we both thought to honor her mom the same night in the same way.

Here are some other ways my grandma was honored and remembered:

Right after Christmas, and right before grandma died, I printed a copy of the group photo of our family on my grandma's 87th birthday. I didn't know at the time quite how soon she was going to die, so these photos became extra special and well-timed.

My mom and I shared a special day together celebrating Mother's Day - her first since her mom died. We got dressed up and went to the Wilmington Tea Room. Without planning ahead, we wore our matching dogwood necklaces. Hers belonged to her mom. I found mine in the NC mountains very likely made by the same designer. Now, when we get together for mother-daughter dates, we often wear them.

Most recently, I made special ornaments for Christmas for my mom and aunt. Below are photos of my mom and aunt opening their gift and then a closer photo of the ornaments themselves.

We've made it through many firsts this year. I'm hopeful about 2014. And I'm grateful for all the love I have in my life. If you've made it to the end of my blog, thank you so much for sticking with me. Please feel free to leave me comments and thoughts.

With love,

Kelley

Haikus

Outside of an assignment once or twice in school, I've never written many haikus. But recently, I decided to attempt this form of creative outlet. Here were the results.

"Training"
What am I doing here?
None of this pertains to me.
What a waste of time.

"Fall"
Fall leaves swimming 'round.
Swirling, wooshing, floating down.
Autumn ecstasy.

"Kitties"
Whiskers brush my cheek.
Cuddly, purring ball of fluff.
Warm, feline snuggles.

"Motherhood"
Pervasive envy.
Aching maternal longing.
Morose pit of pain.

I realize the last poem is rather dark and sad. But it felt healing and cathartic to get the feelings out.

Peace,
Kelley