it’s Spring, ends and beginnings

Yesterday I heard about a 90 year old man who decided and planned to end his life yesterday. He has no family or friends left except his amazing neighbors for decades, who helped him through the process and witnessed him end this journey. I think it’s a very good thing he has that option. Yet, something about it lingers. If I were in his position, what if in the last minute I realize I’m going to miss this world? I went for a walk and saw some cherry blossoms. And it all conspired into me making this little video and the poem below. Anyway, even without the story, I think it’s beautiful and I think you’ll like it.

It’s Spring.🌸


Every time one of you fly by
I thought you were a butterfly.
I held a bunch of you like
a fluffy little chick.
But you won’t last, not like this.
So you hop on the breeze and fly
away. Beautiful in life,
Beautiful all the way,


Thank god for nice people

Each of us participate in creating the experience and perception of the world we each live in. Someone who has been met with more kindness will see the world as a kinder place. This past week I’ve been treated to a lot of gratitude from clients and it feels amazing. They could have been thankless, take advantage of me and I would still bend to their every wish (because I’m an ISFJ who must do things right and do things well). So those who take the time to write a short (or long in one case!) message that expresses their gratitude beyond the usual “Thank you”, I am glad and grateful for them in return. Not only have they given meaning to my job, they are making the world a better place for me. And I’m sure they value many others in their life too, which means they are doing the major work of making the world a kinder and friendlier place.

brave enough to cry


I’m so grateful for this Facebook Page, Calmer Choice, for sharing this image! See the full post and their discussion here!

I’ve definitely heard enough of “Don’t cry, it’s okay”, or “Don’t cry now you’re a big girl/boy, aren’t you?” in my life that sometimes it’s what comes up in my mind when dealing with my upset child. I hear those voices, they almost come out. 😢And I’ll hold on to another second of silence to think about how to be empathic. 💪🏻I deeply believe in emotional intelligence. The things I say and do when she’s upset now will become the things she says and do to herself as she grows up.🧐

to my little valentine

My dear little Valentine,

You are the greatest love of my life. I know I should give more credit to your dad, the first greatest love of my life, since he had a role in bringing you into the world. The experts warn us that it’s your spouse who will stay with you when you get old, not your child. But my daughter you are only two years old. What is a mom supposed to do but still be completely in love?

You showed me a love bigger than any love I’d imagined.

It is with you that I learned that love is neither feelings nor actions; that Love is a state of being between you and me. That is why you never care much for my repetitions of “I love you”, and you never say it back even though you can. And I finally come to realize how redundant and inadequate that three-word-phrase feels, at least at this stage. But I’ll keep at it of course, because all that love wants to be expressed. And in case one day we’ll both become shy at expressing it.

You teach me that fatigue, frustration, doubt and joy can coexist in any given moment, and that joy is the one that can override all the others when I didn’t think it was possible. You show me the full spectrum of experiences.

I love you no matter what — that is my job, and I hope to do it well. You love me no matter what — you are the gift and the miracle.



poem: let go & be like LEGO


Fear patched up the shell
too many times, for a deceptive
perfect appearance.
The broken parts inside rattle
for release, to spill,
to be messy, clueless, free,
useless, inconsistent, the opposite
of a coherent and purposeful existence, like
a pile of LEGO
full of potential.

Courage and Love resist
putting ourselves together
in the only boring way we know.
They dare us to lay fallow and still
with uncertainty and the unknown
like fertile soil.
Life, on its own,will show us
how we’ll blossom and die
for many more cycles.

poem: (untitled)

What if
I no longer try
to decide
I’ll end up
But only try
to keep my head up
and eyes on what’s good
and the things I desire
and my feet a servant
to my heart

It’s been such a while since I posted! Thank you for anyone who’s here and reading.

If you like the poem, leave me a comment to say hi! 🙂


poem: heart crafting

At the end of the why’s,
How could you’s, and
How did it’s, and
How did I’s

You know you’ve reached
the end because your heart is still
there on the floor
with your dream,
in a thousand pieces, and none
of the questions or answers
have put them
back together.

Finally it’s morning,
A foggy one, perfect
for some quiet crying
And crafting.
Scoop up all the pieces,
Dunk them into the beakers of
Tears you’ve cried over
The years. Watch the dust
Separate and sparkle against
The sun. Why not add some
Real glitter for fun,
Or pour it all into a bigger
Vessel, decorated with
Stickers and ribbons.

I could put it all back together
like a puzzle. But I might just
Let it live in a swirl.

poem: Out of nowhere I hummed a little lullaby

Out of nowhere I hummed a little lullaby
One tune among millions stored in my head
In infinite space that takes up no space
For you can cut my brain open
Yet not find a single song
To be played.

Just like one day you’ll leave your body
Whether it’s damaged or intact.
They say you’ll live in my heart.
But my arms would ache for your weight
My body an empty concave.
My heart cannot 3D print you
The way my mind can play your favorite tape.

So this is what our body is for
To feel our love, in ways better and more.
What a wonder it is we meet equipped
With our mind
And our body.

Now a different tune escapes my lips
I’m my own streaming device,
Speakers, a portable karaoke
As well as a happy audience
All in One.

POEM: A bath for your past


Bring your bleeding heart
and your tainted past
for a bath at the park.

Run it under the breeze
Sink into the quiet
whispers of the trees
Let the birdsong lather
up the crusted mind
Soak in the sunshine
to wash away
your fossilized tears.

See the purity in the eyes
Of the squirrel passing by?
are part of that reflection.


poem: Genie in a Bottle

For Moms

Grant me non-bleeding nipples
Grant me a well fed babe
Grant me Freedom
from the breast pump
Before I go insane.

We fear the imperfect
We mistake the Ideal
as Natural
We worry we fret we believe
In battle.

Baby formula!
You’re a genie in a bottle.
For if I can’t survive the now
There’s not going to be a tomorrow.