#wordsrushround

[willowdeer-blog1]

•happy things•

socks! plants. growth. tea. VW vans. roadtripping. being warm under blankets in a cold room. that first bite of food when you’re really hungry. food in general, actually. change. coins in an old jar. jackets that have stories. getting your hands dirty and being productive. when someone is comfortable enough around you to cry. sushi!! hugs. snuggles. massages. getting a new notebook. finishing a notebook. having a cat fall asleep on you. discovering new music. henna tattoos. when little kids remember you and walk up and talk to you (MY HEART.) old people wearing tweed suits. bagels fresh from the bakery. honey crisp apples. prayer. psalms. dancing by yourself outside in the dark. jumping out a window. writing something and liking it from the start. getting to know people. hugs from little kids. giving people encouragement and watching their face light up. languages.

[willowdeer-blog1]

moments II

moody jazz

sings a heart song

soft lighting

cold weights

gravel rough bold voice

deltoid lines.

concentration

keeping alignment

feeling my body

s t r e t c h

and compact.

the lightness

when you realize you

just easily did something

that used to be difficult

rocks removed

flow like water

pose to pose.

light off bare skin

muscles have contours

I marvel at them at my job

on myself

on others.

each human body

is different,

and each is art.

fatigue muscle shaking

quiver like sadness

but full of elation

endorphins flow and go and grow

make me wanna dance

but I’m too sore so

I flop on the floor and think.

my mind is a bundle of notebooks and a ball of

wire

things noticed and filed away, constantly being

written, rewritten, reread, and added to.

wire as everything connects to the big picture,

connect the dots with metal string.

I have big hands.

useful hands.

strong hands.

gentle sensitive hands

they’ll never be small and delicate.

I have peaches and cream pale skin.

I have a long Grecian nose, just like my great

grandma.

things I used to not like but now have accepted

as God’s art of me

to dislike them would be to tell God I think

He did a bad job.

I can’t do that, won’t do that, so I accept them

and now love that He gave me these useful

distinctive characteristics.

I have my grandpa’s and my mother’s hair,

thickness and volume.

I have my uncle’s eyes.

my brother has my grandpa’s face.

almost my entire family carries shades of the

sky and water in their eyes, except for the ones

with luscious cinnamon coffee eyes.

crazy to think how much history and lineage we

carry in these shells,

and these are just the people we know of that

we can compare to.

how many other ancestors have features that

they shared with my family?

maybe

I’m too self obsessed

self absorbed

which is why I write about myself so much

maybe that is wrong and I should stop

oftentimes I want to record the moment,

thoughts, smells, touches,

so I can relive the feelings I had in that

moment later on,

track and visually see how my brain is going

if I can still make sense of the ramblings it has.

I should balance it all out.