I’m a wife and stay-at-home-momma to two boys. I live in St. Louis with my family and our miniature schnauzer.

Words are wonderful and terrible. Words can build us up and tear us down. They can assist, and  they can confuse. Words are powerful, and words are inadequate. I am learning just how powerful they can be, and am working to use them wisely. But also know, that I think words are fallible. They are an imperfect human label for something bigger.

“Sharing is the foundation, the source. Share whatsoever inner beauty arises in you, whatsoever inner glow arises in you. Share your truth. Share your meditation. Share your love. Share your inner flame and never be a miser, ad you will become richer and richer and there will be no end to that richness.” -Osho

“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.” -Oscar Wilde

“I would like to say to the diligent reader of my writings, and to others who are interested in them, that I am not at all concerned with appearing to be consistent… What I am concerned with is my readiness to obey the call of truth, my God, from moment to moment, and therefore, when anybody finds any inconsistency between any two writings of mine, if he has still faith in my sanity, he would do well to choose the latter of the two on the same subject.” -Mahatma Gandhi

“The light blue flickering rhythm
Of the neighbor’s big console T.V.
Is basking on the ceiling
Of another insomniac spree
And outside sleep’s open window
Between the drops of rain
History is writing a recipe book
For every earthly pain

Oh to clean up the clutter of echoes
Coming in and out of focus
Words spoken
Like locusts
Sing and sing
In my head

And thing is
They often seem
In my memory’s long dream
To be superfluous to
The true story of what was

‘Cause, Real is real regardless
Of what you try to say
Or say away
Real is real relentless
While words distract and dismay
Words that change their tune
Though the story remains the same
Words that fill me quickly
And then are slow to drain
Dialogues that dither down reminiscent
Of the way it likes to rain
Every screen
A smoke screen
Oh to dream
Just for a moment
The picture
Outside the frame

Then in a flash
The light blue horizon
Spanning a sudden black
Is sucked into the vanishing point
And quiet rushes back
To search for the downbeat
In a tabla symphony
To search in the darkness
For someone who looks like me

(Though I’m not really who I said I was
Or who I thought I’d be)

Just a collection of recollections
Conversations consisting
Of the kind of marks we make
When we’re trying to get a pen to work again

A lifetime of them

I say to me
Now here listening
I say to the locusts
That sing and sing to me sitting
Now here on the front porch swing of my eyes
I hereby amend
Whatever I’ve ever said
With this sigh” -Ani DiFranco