My bowls, the source of every problem in my body, had decided to pack up (literally) and go on a holiday for two weeks, leaving me in pain and praying to the gods of poo for a little release! I tried laxatives, drinking lots of water, coffee, prune juice. I massaged between my thumb joint and the rest of my hand. I tried relaxing my bum muscles. Sitting on the toilet for hours reading. I even tried meditating, envisioning the act. Nothing.

So my last bid effort was a yoga class. I was hoping the relaxation would release something.
I don’t go regularly, although I’ve vowed that I will now, so I’m never quite sure what to expect.

No one really speaks to each other, and everyone else seemed a little more alternative than this blonde bimbo with pink nail polish and a towel to match. I smiled at the other members of the class, and we pretended to be busy warming up to avoid the stifling silence.

Enter Yoga Instructor. A lean man with a shaved head, and protruding bum. He ‘centered’ himself on the floor and began our class, opening with meditation. Many of the moves, he mentioned were good for the bowels. I had come to the right class!

Have you ever been dancing, or running, and you felt a small sound slip out. (Otherwise known as a fart). Imagine having them built up, holding your bum muscles so they don’t pop out, and doing exercises that are meant to release your gluteousmaximus. Not good. At all. There was one move that involved grabbing our feet with our hands, so we were spread eagle, then rolling on our spin, so our feet could touch the floor behind our heads. Oh gosh, I thought, I’m going to explode and have to run out, quite the gym and move house. Luckily, I remained silent! Thank GOD!

To finish off, we umm-ed and ah-ed with our eyes closed and hands placed in our laps, palm up. Suddenly, the sound of a wooden flute fills the room and I sneak an eye open. Yoga Instructor is in some crazy position, playing the recorder with his eyes closed, meditating. I looked around and noticed everyone else was as into it as he was, and I quickly shut mine and tried not to laugh to loudly.

The bowel result? It was simply PMS. Apparently my body holds it all in and then right when the lovely red bird arrives, so does everything else. God of poo has a bizarre sense of humour.

heat

after a summer storm, the water rises in slow streams of steam.
the sun reappears and claims its mantle in the sky
as dark clouds make a fast retreat.

memories are like the summer rain.
they pour down in sudden torrents,
leave the mind remembered,
and quickly leave, almost but not completely invisible.

the longing has been gone for a long time.
the memories i had shut up, shackled deep in the dark places.
i shut out your smell, destroyed the pictures, hid the letter.

but the song could not be forgotten.
it lingers, in cd's. on the radio. in my voice.

these are the scars of the massacresof heart break.

two times the mistake

once upon a long time ago, I was falling in love.

and now, he is no longer in my life.

we don't speak. he doesn't look at me. his wife (yes, wife) glares at me.

it feels like a decade ago, but it was only three years.

and now, perhaps you will call it stupidity, playing with fire, or simply naivety
i am talking with his brother. as in, messaging continually throughout the day.
and i like it.

there i said it.

his younger brother,
who i used to make chocolate chip cookies with
and watched a lot like love with
and flirted with when we first broke up in a bid to make him jealous.

oh let my conscience lead the way
let my common sense be stronger than my stupid-sense.

and let me not walk out with 3rd degree burns to my heart. again.

Butterfly Freedom

She couldn't wipe the smile that was beginning to spread across her face, like a sun swiftly fanning its rays across the desserts' sand.

Today would be different.

Today she would be She.

Nothing left of what was before, she stepped into the on coming light, and felt the evaporation of fear.

Nothing left of what she had forgotten.

Inside the distant memories, was an illusion no one would believe.

Freedom is attained when you stop fighting.

Mistaken Affections

A few months ago, there was a Potential. We'll call him Mr. Suite.

He was everything I could imagine myself with. Tall, had a very good job, was hard working, cared about the same things as me, wanted a Trophy Wife. (That last one, is not to be taken to literally, more in the sense of stay-at-home-mum with the kids).

And apparently I was his 'ideal' girl. Blonde, bubbly, and of course, we care about the same things.

He's only 5 years older than me, but for some reason this was a problem for him. So every time our group hung out, I had to become more mature. Or look like I was having lots of fun. I was always on show for him. And I knew this was stupid.

Have you ever sort-of-dated someone? You both know you're checking each other out, and spending a lot of unnecessary time talking, but never acknowledge why you are. This went on for almost a year. And I fell hard for him.

I would cry if he didn't speak to me when we were out. I couldn't have a normal conversation with people when I knew he was near by. Every beat of my heart, flushed bright red blood through my veins when he as so much walked into the room.

Needless to say, it was pathetic of me.

A long story short, he liked my best friend, who didn't reciprocate, and is dating his friend. And in the process of it all, he found out I liked him.

Now he doesn't want to know me. Conversations that used to last for hours, have been abandoned and I don't even get a hello.

I saw him last night, and tried to make conversation. He looks right through me, embarrassed to be speaking to someone not nearly good enough for his impossibly standards.

Now I understand how it feels to be on American Idol. And be one of the idiots who cant sing. And have everyone tell you, you're not good enough.

And deep in my heart, I know I'm better than that.

So why does this feel so painful!

T.I.M. (This is me)

this year, it feels the same.

and yet lonely.

it feels so far weightless.

yet tied down with thoughts.

i want to fly.

to become & be & own

who i am.how i feel.

all i was meant to be.

i want to

feed the homeless.

hold the sick in my arms.

carry the wounded.

finance the broken.

i want to travel to the

exotic.

glamourous.

unseen.

dangerous.

i want to shine.

on screen.

in magazines.

and stain peoples minds.

i want my words and actions

to be heard

felt

echoed.

to nations

& generations.

just so others feel the pulse of God.

i want to live bigger.

see wider.

achieve longer.

dream into infinity.

i know i can do it.

i know my face and words

are marked for influence.

i know any fame i aquire

will be for justice

& my justice will be for

the grace and love of God.

i eat.

breath.

live.

speak.

justice.