Perched precariously on the fence


This is a lofty spot,

this place where I find myself.

I am currently balanced for fear of falling,

but this is a spot I find hauntingly familiar.

There is no right or wrong,

only what is best for me.

And whatever side I choose,

wherever I decide to plant my feet,

that is the direction I was meant to follow.

I can only believe in my truth,

that I cannot make any progress in my life

without making the decision to pick a side.

And once that decision is made,

that fence will no longer seem like an obstacle,

but merely an arrow.

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When the sun shines on June


I have written many posts about my mom since she passed a little over two years ago.  Some of those stories have been light-hearted and as joyful as she was and some have been wrapped tightly in the veil of loss.

During the past two years, my mother has made it extremely clear that she has been doing her best to keep in touch.  While others may dismiss my belief in her presence, I know in my heart it is not fantasy.  It is not simply an extension of my overactive imagination.  It is not some arc angel named Jingobar trying to earn his wings.  It is my mother – I knew her well enough to know how she operates.

If I ever had any doubt, even one moment’s hesitation that she was working her magic from another realm, she made it perfectly clear last Wednesday night.  Without going into intricate detail, a great deal of my past culminated into a very emotional evening and, where I felt I had failed in the past, I encountered an overwhelming rush of emotion by feeling like I had finally made a difference.

After sharing a very touching conversation with a dear friend and wiping the remaining tears from my face, I walked back in to my living room.  The early evening sun was still streaming through my window as I sat down on my couch.  To my left, my grandfather’s writing desk was cast in half-shadow and half-sun.  When I took a moment to absorb the tableau in front of me, the tears returned.


The candle on my desk, the one with my mother’s picture, was one of the few things bathed in the sunlight and that light, perhaps my mother’s light, projected a halo onto the wall behind it.  In the two years that her candle has sat innocently atop my desk, this anomaly has never occurred.  A brief twenty seconds later the image, and the sunlight, were gone.

My mom, June as we came to call after this story (click on the link), sent her message in her way and I got that message loud and clear.  There will never be a doubt that she is always with me when the sun shines on June.


Make a wish



The pyramid that represents my desires is simple.  Each wish is placed with careful consideration.  Each moment of hope is used as mortar in the cracks.  And at the pinnacle of that prism is the cherished knowledge that I dared to dream.

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The good, the bad and the truth


How quickly we lose our tenuous grasp on the things that used to seem so simple.  How fleetly we relinquish our grip.  How easily we let go of the reins only to watch those reins get wrapped up in the wheels of the coach we struggle to maintain control of as we steer ourselves into our future.

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In those rare moments in our lives, in the moments when we think we can marginally and genuinely separate the good from the bad, the truth will always do its best to expedite that process.  We are fools to think that we can fool ourselves.  And although good and bad are formidable opponents, the truth will always come out the victor.

Knowing our truth may sometimes feel like nothing more than a burden.  We may carry it with us, hidden under a shroud of secrecy, hoping that it remains hidden.  But eventually that truth becomes transparent, if not to others at least, to ourselves.  And in that moment, in that split second when we realize we can no longer pull the wool over our own eyes, the pressure of that burden no longer holds any weight.

Suddenly the reins are back in our hands.  That feeling of losing control is replaced by a new calm and the knowledge that everything that seemed to be bad can be good again.  The truth did, indeed, give us a sense of freedom and the moment we began believing in that truth, our change was inevitable.

Dealing with the good and the bad in ourselves is human nature.  That concept evolved long before we began our journey through this lifetime.  But being able to recognize the truth, to embrace the strength and the weakness that brought us to our truth, is the genuine definition of our character.

True strength is not measured by physical endurance alone.  True strength does sweat, it does bleed.  But it also cries, accepts, forgives and heals.  True strength inspires us to be better and, somewhere along that rugged path, our truth can inspire others as well.  #mjs










I didn’t want to exhale


I missed you a lot yesterday.

Some days are so much worse.

Lots of funny little memories

flooded back and overwhelmed me.

I thought I could smell your perfume,

Lily of the Valley,

and though it was faint,

even in the earliest days of spring,

with no blossoms to be seen anywhere,

I knew it was you,

and I didn’t want to exhale.


And when the smell of Spearmint gum

overwhelmed my senses,

sometime later in the afternoon,

it was like sneaking into your purse again,

to get a piece of that very gum,

and I didn’t want to exhale.

Those smells keep us connected,

like two worlds coming together

if only for a brief moment.

And no matter how far away you may seem,

those lingering scents make me know that you are here,

standing close to me,

always here when I need you,

and I don’t ever want to exhale.

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