If I Should Have a Daughter

This is an amazing watch… let yourself be inspired.

Have a great weekend!!! Happy Easter!

If I Should Have a Daughter.


A Poem to Set you Free

The Bird Nest by Linda Apple

This poem by Mary Oliver has been near and dear to my heart since I first came upon it in the book : Ten Poems to Set You Free.  Before I was finally able to find the courage to speak up about what I wanted in my life and assert my own needs I would go to the bookstore ( B&N) which is something I’ve been known to do all my life.  Somehow walking through the shelves of books, touching the bindings, or reading the back jacket made me feel safe and comforted.

One of these many afternoons I found myself in the poetry section and this little blue book with a nest on the cover seemed to beckon me to open it.  I opened it directly to this page.  I remember my heart beating more quickly as i finished it, and a flood of emotion welling from me and I read it again and again as I just sat there on the carpeted floor in the safe haven of this poem that said it all, and I wept for joy…. it really did help set me free – nothing else could have explained what I was facing so eloquently… my family had no hope of surviving if I continued to remain a ghost.  This poem gave me the courage to do what I needed to do, and I hope it speaks to someone else out there today.  XO

The Journey

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice —

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

“Mend my life!”

each voice cried.

But you didn’t stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do —

determined to save

the only life you could save.

~ Mary Oliver ~

The Power of Words

Words:  They have the power to heal, and the power to hurt.

My brother came to visit for the last couple of days…. you know- my brother the poet.

He recently graduated from his job as Kick Ass Sales and Personal Awesomeness Development Coach (that’s my own job title for him) of those he trained to do the turn around job with him…. he did  amazing work. He did such a good job in  fact, that after two years of working his tushie off (sleepless nights, anxiety, long hours, travel) with the awesome team he built –  investors magically came to the table to buy the company.

So he graduated Magna Cum Laude.

Truly- imagine if we treated people with the




for their contribution to our company, project, or dream that were created during their time with us?

instead of having a quiet little chat just after 5:00 pm placing “the letter” on the desk and offering a cardboard box for the collection of his “things.”


I prefer the word GRADUATION: it has so much more to offer and says something completely different- even allows the recipient to hold their head up high in honor and feel proud of the work they’ve done.

So Lar,

in recognition of your amazing contribution to a company I know desperately needed you at the time you were hired and had the amazing good fortune of working with you and benefiting from your experience, wisdom, and willingness I want to THANK YOU and let you know how AMAZING you truly are and to say EVERYTHING happens for a reason….

Your work was done…and they did not need you anymore and that- is something to be proud of. You helped them become self sufficient and wildly successful.  Time to move on.

Now… get writing- I can’t wait to read more poetry that truly expresses you and will be far more reaching, and a whole lot more satisfying.

I love you.


Expelled from Comfort: A Poem for Japan


This morning I donated a measly $10 to the Red Cross by texting 909-99 on my phone. It feels insignificant, really (they just add it to my cell phone bill).

My eldest brother was born in Japan in 1949.  Our dad brought back some paintings ( similar to the one above but much more beautiful- pen and ink) and these images hung on the walls of our staircase and I went up and down, up and down, never really having to much relationship to them other than copying one for art class when I was in high school. I found the image beautiful.

This same brother of mine is a Poet, and I wonder how he must be feeling about all this.  I myself feel particularly lame and unhelpful.  Similar to the way I feel when any disaster strikes somewhere in the world where I am not and all I can do is, with deep gratitude, pull my children close and take a moment and think of the only thing I can to try and relate.  In order to do that I realize everyone in Japan has a child or is a child…therefore, we all have someone we care for. They are just like me.

Our father passed away when I was twenty, and because my brother was quite a bit older than I, he became the most noble of volunteers to coach a girl (because I was, still, just a girl) who felt lost, without a compass.

He stepped bravely into shoes still barely worn… the soles and treads still shiny and new to continue the walk of parenthood by my side, even though he himself had never really had one (long story), or been one himself. When things in my life, or in the world  just don’t make any sense, he’s the reliable place I cling to – my buoy.

He’s at a trade show this week on the west coast, but I’m thinking about him and wishing he could write a Poem that can explain the inexplicable that is the disaster in Japan.

In his absence I found this one:

A Poem for Japan

The earthquake came and the water rushed in and the world was turned upside down,

Time circled once again and life seemed to end but in the shadows of death I see a flicker that time will come again, but

How shall it come and whence cometh it and who shall know of its coming,

As these old eyes grow dim slowly like an autumn leaf floating down an Aspen hill and my memory is dragged along however unwillingly by the force of such an awesome falling,

I wonder how shall the flash of recognition occur, how shall the veil be lifted, when shall the silence be rent asunder by a shout so loud that the cosmos itself quakes,

Ah in waiting shall we have the answer but in the meantime we are expelled from our comfort like a birth not sought but realized

~Bishop Andrew Gentry

My Brother: The Poet


He tells me it just “comes out” and it’s true- I’ve seen it happen.  I wonder though how his mind can work this way.  Five minutes ago I sent him an email letting him know that my house is officially on the market.  Five mintes later he sent me this… a poem- for us, me. him. you. those & they.  It’s a poem for me, yet I think so many can relate.  Can they?

He’s written like this for as long as I’ve been his sister. Forty years. Sometimes I am just in awe because he can capture what I can’t say…no matter how many words I write.

First Seeing
When we first saw the place
We knew
We were so certain
All our dreams would be fulfilled
We would all be there
For generations to come
Especially the new one
We had brought along that was tugging on our sleeves
Wanting to climb up into the branches of our arms.
We knew ahead of time
All the laughter that would float in the air
Like bubbles from those silly toys that every child gets sooner or later
Spinning, spinning as they made them
Their eyes focused on every one
While you and eye failed to see
Eye to eye
As conversations descended into
Eye for an eye.
Soon enough
All we could see was a future
Far away from the big elm tree
In the center of our little circular drive
You drove away first, or I made you
I would follow later
Going the other direction
Leaving only
The dreams and the big elm tree
For the Realtor to show
The next generation of couples.

-Jim Grady