a story about fitting in

a young girl, 
only twelve or thirteen, 
she wanted friends, dance, ballet
a teacher, old, tired, bullied, terrorized 
she didn’t like him either
I needed her for him
there, then and she did stand up strong,
a warrior of light, 
feeling that she didn’t fit in 
the years went by,
she left her home, racism, anti-semitism and
settled in the land of her dreams, 
her foremothers and -fathers 
what now? what here? 
I showed her.
her parents at breaking point
“me?” she asked,
“you want me to help you?”
she thought it was up to her, 
but it was ME, 
I needed her, 
never fitting in 
marriage, abuse, divorce
home that never was, 
never will be, 
never was meant to be
leaving it all behind for the big, 
new promised land of contradictions, 
of disputes, 
mc donald’s, gap and blues
she never liked it much and yet, 
she stayed, never fitting in 
kansas city, racism, again
standing up was not fitting in, 
calling it out was not fitting in,
but I needed her innocence, 
her girlish rebel from across the sea, 
then, there and it worked, never fitting in
fifteen years 
ge, paris, france, 
bangalore, delhi, hydrabad, mumbai, 
tokyo, beijing, hangzhou, 
london, sweden, germany, russia
then a spark: 
“you should pursue coaching as a career!"
she was intrigued, liked education, higher education 
because finally she might fit in
but that’s not what i needed her to do
speak the truth, serve, help, 
get comfortable in the muck, 
love the muck, the tension and bring lightness, 
joy and stillness within
that is what I needed her to do, 
never fitting in 
peacemaker foundation 
it was called
the place she built from all she had, 
always wanted to do 
and now it was coming true
she could shine, so she thought
but I needed her to come down, 
to expand, to understand 
in her inner most secret place,
that it was never her, 
it was always ME and 
that all this time 
she fit in like hand in glove, 
like socks and shoes, 
like a horse and a carriage, 
all along she was perfect where she was
years go by
what do they mean? 
a journey travelled
“be!” “be!” “be!” I tell you.
“be! that’s all I need of you right now, 
right here, be with ME!” 
and so you are, finally fitting in.

Washed up

on sand,
countless grains,
millions of them,
carrying, covering, filing, smoothing
hard rock,
solid wood, 
big and small

washed up on the shore

find it, 
rolling in, then out again
neither here, nor there
just going with the flow,
low and high,
tumbling

washed up just like that

like sorrows, worries,
past and future,
even in the here and now
coming in, going out again

washed up by our consciousness 

let it go, let it go!
I hear them say, them waves,
crashing in my mind
moving, smoothing edges of those rocks
from long ago

washed up once again

maybe some day 
I'll pick them up
and put them in a jar
memories from beach days
once upon a summer
on lake Michigan

washed up 
love, tears, longing
for a breeze, some shade and sunshine
all year round

perspective

What if,
You knew 
with absolute certainty, 
that this life you live right now, 
the work, the worry, the pressure, 
the activities, 
endless as they seem and undone, 
always, 
are nothing of what you’re here for?

What if,
they only serve
to get you where you need to be,
with whom you need to be,
when you need to be there,
with him or her or them?
Continue reading “perspective”

Choice

My body!
Of course, it's mine!
I'm woman,
I choose,
I'm pregnant.

My body, still.
I choose, still.
It's my right!

What right?
To choose what?
Who gave it, 
designed it, 
created it, 
looked at it and said:
"Beautiful!"

Life within me forming, growing, evolving fast
Who gives it that power?
Who is doing this?
Still my body?

No! I don't think so.

Entrusted, on loan of sorts,
For another human to come forth,
Another soul to come down,
Destined to do good,
In a way, only it can,
To make this world a bit more whole.

Choice!

Who's is it?
What do I owe this other being inside of me?
What do I owe its creator, 
Its' original life source?
What is Her/His plan for me, for her, him, in me?

We should pray for our governments,
The "Ethics of our fathers" teach.
Because without them, 
"Neighbors would eat each other alive."

Should they choose then?
How?
Like China, Iceland, Sweden, and Germany at some point?
Choosing the conditions 
For a human life's right to exist or not?
Where does that stop?
If every human has a unique purpose,
Every moment even,
Then to choose to end it,
Is cutting off blessings, revealed and hidden,
For those around,
The village, the city, the country, the world.

Not enough food, China said.
The individual's right above all, the US claims.
A stronger, healthier population, others say.

What if,
We, deemed "normal" people,
Have simply not been granted the sense, the gift,
To see, to understand and receive,
The blessings from another world,
Through people sent to us with extraordinary skills,
Some call "special needs".

From our point of view it is a need,
Different from ours.
What about a different point of view?
Treasures locked up for discovery,
Through nurturing, to be set free,
With what humanity so yearns for,
Truth from deep within,
Love, unconditional,
Light from another world into our own,
To see, what's been here all along.

What if governments' role 
Instead of deciding 
What women can and cannot do, 
Provide structures for communities,
To support, value and nurture life?
To celebrate, to educate each in their own way, 
With permission to contribute, 
To fail and learn, and thrive.

What about criminals?! You cry.
They too are human, 
With a purpose in every moment. 

Without the inherent opposite of good
True choice could not exist. 
Without darkness,
Nobody knew the value of light.
As the Lubavitcher Rebbe taught; 
Darkness is not an evil power, 
It simply is the absence of light.

The obligation to choose light is the very meaning of life.
May you choose well.

Independence Day

“What comes to mind?”

“Alone.”

“Again? Really?”

“Yes, it does, for me, but now in a good way.”

“Ah… yes”

“There’s freedom, too. From thought, from orienting myself on someone else, his and her expectations of me, perceptions and ideas maybe, rather than be independent for him- and herself and more of that every day.

1st August 1291 | 4th July 1776 | 14 Juillet 1789 | May 14th, 1948

Continue reading “Independence Day”

Race

“you mean with cars? or dogs? or so?”

“No. But let’s play with that thought, too! I meant like black, white, and all the other colors in between.”

“Hm, what about it? …don’t really want to talk about that now.”

“Ok. Never mind.”

Continue reading “Race”