The Last Day of Summer

The most beautiful thing I saw today Was the sun streaming down from the clouds There was a mountainous dark cloud Obscuring the entire sun in the sky All around the edges of the cloud One could see the sun's rays descending The darkness was surrounded And bathed in light I stood there and soaked in the sight It beamed in through my eyes And went directly to my soul I felt a space inside me open In order to accept the gift It is the darkness that surrounds us That gives form and meaning to our shine

I want to write one poem To prove I still can A single poem to show That I can still create Rather than just process information A poem to tell my brain injury And accompanying anxiety To suck it I'm still capable I'm still beautiful And I will be okay Despite the negative thoughts Despite the insecurity that creeps up While I'm doing whatever it is Thinking, eating, playing, talking Trying to sleep "You're not good enough anymore You'll never be as good as you were" Yes I will I will be even better

I have been thinking about The Art of Living Center a lot lately and contemplating going to volunteer for a week or so.  Let me tell you about my previous experiences there. I've been there three times thus far. The first time I went was for a meditation course. The second time was to see Sri Sri Ravi Shankar as a lovely addition to my 200 hr yoga training at Om West . Lastly, I did the Happiness Program there. The courses were great, but for me, they were not even the best part. The best part of this place is the physical location. It is absolutely beautiful. The air is fresh, the water is amazing to boat and swim in, and each season brings something special. In fall, it's the colors of the leaves of course, and in winter, I hear it's the silence. I haven't been brave enough yet to go in winter. In summer, it's the best! That, of course, is subjective, but I love being on a lake in summer. It's super great for meditation as well. This place gets me...

This feels good. I have been writing more, and now, I've started a podcast. I really like to reflect and express my thoughts. I don't know why I fell out of the habit for a couple of years. I think I pour a lot of myself into my job, and then maybe there isn't much creative energy left over to do my own personal projects. I would somehow like to balance that out a little better. It feels so nice to sit here at the table in my living room looking out onto the water occasionally as I type. I could get used to this.

I got my first concussion on June 16, 2018, two weeks before my wedding. It put a bit of a damper on things, but was also a little helpful because I couldn't be stressed if I was unconscious. I had a pretty serious biking accident. We think my foot got stuck in the front wheel somehow. I flipped in the air from back to front and landed on my head and then continued skidding for a bit. I don't remember a thing. When my then fiance, Jordan, got to me, he thought I was dead. I lost consciousness multiple times. I have no recollection of the period before or the rest of the day after the accident. I was taken by ambulance to the E.R. at The Hospital of Sherbrooke, given a CT scan, and barfed bright purple cold pressed beet juice all over the floor, exorcist style. (I'm happy I don't remember that) I got stuck in a loop of asking Jordan the same four questions over and over for hours. (Poor him) Actually not poor him because he started to tell me all kinds of crazy stuff bec...

I went to New Orleans for New Year's 2019. It was fantastic, with a vibrant night life and extremely fatty foods. The beignets were my favourite. The company was also lovely; I went with Jordan, his cousin(my cousin-in-law), and her boyfriend. They are really fun, and we always have a great time with them. We went on a ghost tour which was fascinating as well as thoroughly disturbing. It was so strange to look at home where murders, suicides, and torture took place. Yuck! I was intrigued by the voodoo scene, and so I went to see a fortune teller at a voodoo place. The fortune teller told me that I am a writer. She said that I should be writing, and that I would be able to support my children that way. Apparently I am going to have 2 or 3 children, she couldn't be sure. I am going to live to the ripe old age of 89 or 90. I used to write a lot. I wrote blogs, poetry, journal entries, and assignments for school. It is true that I do not write so much anymore. I still write ...