Oh, bittersweet season,
leaving me twisting and turning,
as I ride the holiday emotional roller coaster.
The 4 AM awakenings, wrapped in darkness,
with the tears ready to spill.
Longing to drift back to sleep,
but not wanting to dream of those I miss.
Waking with a heavy heart as Christmas
creeps ever closer, filled with memories
of family traditions and celebrations,
gone, not to be repeated.
Yet, there are moments in the day
when I find respite from the heartache.
I step into my improv space,
where I can leave this world behind
and be someone else for a little while.
Delight replaces sorrow as I watch
my wonderful community creating
fun characters, the sound of their laughter
is a soothing balm to my soul.
Or picking up my paintbrush,
losing myself as I transform a blank page
into something that never existed before.
I’ve learned to navigate the two worlds
of loss and life, carrying those who’ve
gone before me in my heart
as I discover a new path on my own.
Category: Creativity
-
Bittersweet Season
-
Life’s Unscripted Journey
I thought life was a play,
with the script composed
for the role I was to inhabit.
Designated stage directions
were set for me to follow
for my life to work out seamlessly.
All that was required was for me to
hit my assigned marks:
education, career, marriage, children,
for the production to be a success.
But others refused to
perform their parts,
changing the scene,
or departing before the play was finished,
leaving me floundering
on the boards, alone.
It took time for me to realize
that life had always been improv:
unscripted, hard turns, unpredictable.
I never had control of the narrative,
which caused needless suffering
in the light of the pain that is a part of existing.
Until I let go of demanding that my life
followed a script was I truly free
to find joy in the unknowing.
It taught me that every moment
was saying “yes, and” to whatever entered my life. -
The Power of Tiny Little Joys
Inspired by Mary Catherine McDonald, PhD
The trials of this world
and the grief that it leaves in its wake
often blots out the beauty that still exists.
But joy can still be found in the simple moments of the day.
A bunny hopping across the backyard in search of food.
The hummingbird as it flutters from flower to flower.
Cumulus clouds painted pink at the close of the day.
The voice of a friend who lives far away,
but feels like she is just around the corner as you talk on the phone.
Walking into a meeting and feeling loved
by those who are on the same journey that you are on.
Finding a good book at the library,
and then curling up in bed to read it.
The sweet taste of your favorite
homemade ice cream, refreshing on a hot summer day.
Listening to a podcast that makes you laugh.
Discovering that you can be a part of an improv group,
where you can play and be a part of a community.
These moments might seem minor
in the face of the atrocities that are taking place in the world,
but they give us the resilience to continue on life’s path. -
Embracing Imperfection
“Perfect is the enemy of good,” attributed to Voltaire
How did that sneaky voice slip into my head,
telling me that perfection was attainable?
Was it years of hearing, “practice makes perfect”
that stopped me in my tracks when I longed to
break out of the expected,
keeping me caged in conformity?
Could it have been apprehension
of what other people might think or say?
It was a slow journey,
fighting against self-doubt and feelings of not enough.
I walked with discomfort as I forged ahead
on this uncharted path.
Sometimes the vines of uncertainty
would wrap around me, wanting me to stay put.
Soon, they held no sway over me,
and fell to the wayside.
When I began to let go
of the noise in my head that sought to contain me,
I found a fearless voice waiting to sing,
the shining me that had been there all along. -
Memories of Mom’s Red Lipstick
When I look in the mirror, and uncap the lipstick,
carefully applying the bright red to my lips,
I picture my mother looking back at me.
She was not one to fuss with makeup,
but always applied her lipstick with care.
Even as she faded with age, her lips blazed.
And I, who always wore muted colored gloss if anything,
now boldly wear true red in honor of my mother,
shining my light for the world to see.
Beautiful Bittersweet Life Poems 