things my mama told me.

sailing over hills & diving into valleys brought my ears stories that my 6 year old self forgot to tell me. all of them were what mama used to say.

when my left torn hiking boot dragged up to its tromper sister at summit, i started to remember some of those things mama used to say. you know? i think that's what fall always does to us. it sits us down & shuts us up, & tells us all that we've forgot.

like staring down on the aspen gangs flashing their colors and making us stay. mama always used to say when leaves make aspen gold & everything slows that i'll need my flannel coat. she used to say that when the leaves let go and the branches do too that we need to decide what we hope is letting go of us too. she used to say a lot of things, but i've always loved the way she spoke of those trees.

& when that hawk spiraled & linked talon with branch i remembered why mama always used to say the view's always sweetest from the top. she always used to say that it'd make us remember how small we really are, and that thinking you're too big might crumble all the rest. she used to say that the view from the top doesn't mean you deserve anything more, just that you understand most things better than the creatures who choose to stay below.

i remembered a lot of things mama used to say while i scoped magic spires and wanderlust peaks. the most important thing i think had to of been what mama always used to say fall meant. she used to always say fall means we should let our lungs grieve and let ourselves be naked; she always used to say autumn's telling us to shed the bad and love our losses. i think fall reminded me today of what mama used to say, and today's the day i really feel it.

the opposite of meaning.

lately i learned that seeking rather than creating means boxing rather than making. and i think i used to let boxing make most of my decisions.

this era, i've turned myself on my head with targets set at life with less meaning. i live a life steeped in repetition, drowned in circle dating, (circle dating's when you don't want to find love and you dream none of the other). in my creation, i've written that which i hope to never see/do/say when the sun sets on my days and my last chapter's sealed.

i think today i decided my head got lost in the summer bake and now the fall's bringing my heart back into my throat. now i want to start speaking my truth and letting my love bleed. i want the messiness of being lovesick and feet over head. now, i think i may have found i'm ready to create something that makes my mouth still and my chest ache again. who was i kidding with that meaningless bullshit? i'm addicted to love.

family.

the blood that i course proudly came from irish flight & god-only-knows-where links me to humans that made me into the woman i find in the mirror each morning.

this family always has meant celebrating with costume just because, & catching me when the world crashes into me and i'm near crashing into dirt. after three months of separation from the arms that have always been refuge, i found myself wondering how i ever manage to leave them. be it the arms growing daily of my beloved first grader or those attached to the womb that wrought my body with life, they will ever be my home...despite what my mailing address may be, & how many times those numbers & streets & avenues change each year.

i've also been blessed with families i've created, beyond those lines of lineage & ancestry. one of the most sacred had always been my family that called boulder home. we're made of many (giant & mini, tribe & mountain), and we have shared life in beautiful ways since the days our hearts met. but upon my return, my family greeted me with crossed arms & loathing, & my heart broke more deeply than i'd imagined.

family, i'd always believed, was unconditional. family i thought ignored zip codes & loved beyond separating highways; family i thought would love me despite when my road led afar. but here my newest lesson is painfully full of darkness; maybe this family isn't unconditional. may be their words of love were empty because they were silenced when my feet needed to stray to find their next stage. they say that i won't let them be characters, but they wouldn't allow me just the briefest guest appearance; instead, they chose hatred of my choices & my tears once met with embrace were left to crash in my hollow ears..

i guess i'm learning more about the different kinds of families we can make. & this time, i don't really like what i'm finding.

learning to love ghosts (oh my).

a lot of times being haunted has a tone that makes me shiver. but i'd rather give my ghosts credit for being reminders that keep me standing tall.

everyday the sun gives me has built upon those it rose upon before, stacking towers wrought of lessons (some more haunting than others). should i shy from those ghosts i'd be spun, forever twirling in flat tires & wretched lines & water logged days. my ghosts make appearances to remind me of the moments that have made me progress, be them poltergeists or angels.

my history lies in my ghosts' chests, and i pray to be haunted til my soul soars with theirs. i will keep them as master, and i as their forgetful servant...at least when i remember that i am nothing but a composite of quartz that shines with my victories and ash that grays my stumbles.

to my ghosts: your spirits keep my feet light...haunt on.

overflow.

i read once "be like the fountain that overflows, not like the cistern that merely contains."

i think these days i'm beginning to flood, and i'm spending days lost in laughter & contentedness, mostly at the hands of humans i adore & their words & their stories & their light.

just now that hand rolled cigarette & the clouded night sky & my after-thirteen-hours-of-work-porch-lounging made me see i've learned to overflow. i overflow after whiskey nights when my mornings are robbed by unexplained laughter & river plunges knocking some hangover death off my haggered corpse. i overflow when i try to take naps in salted sunlight, & sleep can't catch me & i dream up sweet faces. i overflow when i wander through the so many i've come to adore, despite differing coordinates & rusted friendships & months spent astray.

my life is drenched in memories that make me gush. it might be beachside lightening dances followed by raindrop filled flor de caña & juice. & it might be a drive nearly four-times-too-long & remembering that the road less traveled usually means good things. or any of the other absurd things that make my heart rise and my blissed mouth curl.

i overflow for those that have made my belly ache and my soul swell, be it in acting as my breadmaking master or newest mortal combat rival. i'm falling in love with the people the world has brought me daily, both in durango present & old dream past. today i am a fountain, & i'm predicting more fountain days to come.