Posted in Musings, Poetry

deja vu.

Quotes: Invited by GuyorBloke
Day One. I have been here before.

All change demands energy. To recharge, we need to step away and consider the future.

“Why this way?” i repeatedly asked out loud. Of course, as life has proven, no voice replies when needed the most. Alone in that empty room, I silently posed. I traced the cracks and read the signs. Do not cry. You lived. Now walk away. Rest assured, I move forward, knowing, the walls will never speak.

See the source image

i am not good at goodbyes
as i drag my feet
reluctantly wave the past behind

I may not be here, at Borderline Crossing, much longer. I have a new endeavor that requires more of my time and what time will be left over, I may find using to rest in an Adirondack chair, atop our hill, watching the sun set over Mount Wachusett. This, and a glass of wine, will suit me fine.

I have started a new blog. I am not revealing any thing other than that I am excited about this new chapter in my writing. I have yet to consider what to do with what I have blogged here.  A few ideas are floating in my mind… but I am disorganized and nothing may ever come of my efforts.

To those who have ridden this wave as long as I, it has been quite a journey.  For those new here, I may pop in on occasion, if my mind floats back toward the borderline. I have tried to say goodbye, countless times before and have always returned. It remains to be seen if I keep my word and truly move on. For now, i have taken advice to heart, to cut the ties that bind.

And so, I tarry on in dreams, with tears in my eyes. J

Wait! already i revert to my old ways. I have Day Two and Day Three quotes to fulfill for Rory at GuyorBloke. Not to mention a backlogged drafts folder. What do i do with all these crowded words and empty space? Can i save me, after all? Time tells. 😍😘❤️

Posted in Musings, Poetry

In all things may there be wellness.

The absence of sound is the beginning of wisdom.

Wondering about the rising bubbles and taking care not to pop them, my mind turns to the hidden breath that resides within, trapped in time.

The Innocence we begin as, is what we return to. A return to purposeful thought and discernment. Yet I recall nothing of the first light and the resounding answers in the dark.

The fear I felt as child may have been real but is lost to time and the fear remains, traveling toward the end.  Where is the end?  This birthday or the next?  Turning 50 is not as bad as the world reveals.  I feel I have just begun.  A new life.  Adventure awaits.  All the things I have not or could not do for various reasons, mostly at my own fault and reasoning.  I certainly fear the rising phoenix in the room.  Although this time I will rise to conquer myself.

Who brands me the quiet one when I feel the urge to speak?
They have real courage and I am left to find strength to overcome.
So speak.

And so the mind rambles through and over and never ends because once my feet have hardened on a particular road, another pair of feet are born. Another way to travel.

In fear and trembling, destiny’s road perishes.
With courage, horizons come to light.

I begin my Sundays with this thought and why I led them towards the end of today’s ramblings, well I begin a fresh note and leave last week’s musings alone, for awhile.  Pick them up, again, when the time seems right.

Have a great week. Happy writing, J 🙂

Posted in Opinion, Poetry

seeking and finding

It is wonderful some of us are happy.
The rest live in pain.

What we fail to realize, in order to feel well,
are the tragedies that continue in the name of peace.

What we hold onto, despite the horrors,
behaviors ingrained and never changed.

What if we found beauty in all things
even those we retreat from in shock?

There is no condemnation in circumstances. If we step back and criticize ourselves, learn something about our humanness, we would recognize, no matter our beliefs, we fail to measure up in love. Love of all. An opportunity exists to stop and pause, consider what it means to be alive. A moment to realize, it is us that needs to heal.

Those who walk in a path of wisdom,
Those who face themselves in the mirror,
Those who are willing to consider they are wrong,
They are the ones who win.

The story of the woman at the well is an inspirational tale. Everyone turned away from her ugliness and Jesus turned towards her with great compassion. He listened. Love wins hearts and hope spurns us on. How many people are lost in this world? Who will we choose to listen and hear? We are meant to share the good and the bad. We must never turn away in fear.

We often walk through darkness to realize what is light. The beauty of life is disguised. The moon shines, but what does it hide? The wow moments catch our breath. Blessings, time to refresh so we can face the absurdity. For me they are mountains and oceans and feeling the sun on my face. The dark moments highlight human compassion, show us people are real.

“Some stories have to be written because no one would believe the absurdity of it all.”

“Insanity is everyone expecting you not to fall apart when you find out everything you believed in was a lie.”
“The most introspective of souls are often those that have been hurt the most.”
–Sharon L. Adler
Then, after three days they found Jesus in the temple, sitting in the midst of the teachers, both listening to them and asking them questions. Luke 2:46
We all are afraid of something. Be well, J


Posted in Opinion, Poetry

A letter from her insight (So)


Not always should we speak up. Regardless how we feel, sitting and listening, expressing our understanding, knowing hearts walled from a continuum  of pain, we learn to practice silence. Comfort comes through our body, our sitting and listening. Our presence enough.


silence resides within her pen
delivers thoughts in prayer.
Carries the grief
and despair,
soaked spirit soars to unknown lands.

She learns to sit in sorrow.
Rest in the loss.
Not freefalling as it may seem. Learn to understand,
face the dark.

Dark fear walled in,
To cocoon in thoughts,
untangling knots,
she rises again and again.

peace, j

Posted in Poetry, Sermons


Sunday morning poetry. Church: words spoken to me, shared lovingly with you. My second chance to shape faith every Sunday for a year.

Graciously plated food for thought
laid upon paper, digested
by those who seek the hidden.

Listen, atop a mountain
a master teaches
to winsomely speak
and raise the downtrodden.
Seek His way
upon each valley
ready to give a reason for your hope.

Who resists feeding from
vulnerable hands
fortified with truth?

An unjustified fist
is wise to search
an open hand
reaching to bring peace.
Courage besets
the wisdom of haughty
blinded by flesh.

Be spirited,
believing love is the greatest.
Love is patient,
kind, understanding
full of peace
to forgive  wrongs.
protects day and night.

Dancing tendrils tied in beautiful bows.