Kai

have you ever looked at a picture of someone

you knew you could never have

of someone you’ve spoken to once or twice

of someone who etched his memory inside you

of someone whose fingers maybe grazed your palm

that’s kai

he’s always knocking

but when you open the door

only the feathers of his wings

land in your hands

grab him when you can

November Diary

November 13, 2012

I feel like crying all the time. Everything is alive inside of me, and yet, everything on the outside is falling away like petals on a dying rose. If God is pruning, I hate the way it feels.

I wrote on Facebook that I have a purpose larger than life and that scares me. Why would I claim such a thing? My own life scares me because I think there are big things on the way. Hard things, challenges, breakdowns, breakthroughs, and changing the world. I'm scared to death.

My life isn't going to be like anything I ever imagined. I see myself as a young girl, head full of dreams, always saying, "I'm going to be a writer and I'll take care of you. I'll remember you." I want to hold her hand. And I see my teenage self, the dark clouds just beginning to form and the tears building up inside. I want to cry with her, but let her know everything's going to be okay. She is loved. So loved.

And now I cry when I hear God saying, "I love you, Cassandra, and I'm so proud of you." And I know he's at work in my life and there are all these invisible things coming together. He's weaving words that I'll have to write. I've been  needing to write these hard, vulnerable truths lately, how we're all missing the point, how we can't have everything, how we must give up everything to be something. There's nothing fancy free about the world and people are sleeping, but think they're awake.

I need to just cry and let the petals fall. I need to cry for everyone who is hurting and lost, sad and hungry.

When I look at the sky I see God. The whole universe exploding around me. It's all dying and being born constantly. 

It doesn't matter who we are in the darkness of space - God cradles us all. In the end, we're all just star stuff with souls.

(Almost) Spring Afternoon

It's a delicious day.

Weather like a warm, buttery biscuit.

Sky an ombre blue.

Birds chattering about the coming of spring.

Wind to balance the early heat.

I like to take breaks from writing to stand outside, get some vitamin D, stretch my limbs and spine. If I sit down, the dogs (all three) get on either side of me and try to crawl into my lap.

How is your day?

Sylvia

I wish I could've been there for her.

Sat at the kitchen table, chatted over mugs of coffee.

I would've said, "Take a vacation. I'll watch the baby."

And she would've taken the vacation and come back all refreshed and ready for a new chapter in her life.

She would've dumped ol' what's his name.

Maybe she wouldn't have written as much poetry because of the disappearing sadness, but maybe she would have.

We'll never know.

A poem I wrote for her in college:

You were a daring beauty
whose words ached
liked old bones.
No one could take the pain
so they dismissed you
with blank faces
and sticks and stones.
And you crawled into
the dark places
of your heart
where no one lived.
Nothing was said,
but silence was dead-
like you.

Dear Ophelia Blooming

I miss you.

I've abandoned you far too many times, but I always come back. You're like a favorite old book that gets tossed to the side. The one with all the beautiful pictures and concert stubs and life lessons.

I forget about you and the small things, the poetry, the bits and pieces of stories left untold.

I forget because I'm too busy thinking about business and tribes and what I'm supposed to be blogging about elsewhere.

I love that place, I do, but you are my first love. We go back like best friends. You came into my life before the sh*t hit the fan and life went all topsy turvy. It wasn't bad though.

So now I'm all grown up, but still walking in circles, it seems, trying to find that sweet spot in life. There are younger people than I doing some pretty cool stuff and I have to wonder where the eff I went wrong, but we're not supposed to compare, right?

I'm sorry if I abandon you again, but just know that you're on my mind from time to time. And I'll always come back.

xo,
Cassandra

Fairy Tea

Recommended for taking tea with fairies:

pretty teacups - they don't have to match

a delicious tea blend - this one's called Fairytale Tea by Mountain Rose Herbs

wings of course

poetry by Francesca Lia Block or music by Emilie Autumn (she has poetry too)

yummy desserts

xoxo

Dream Catcher

Now that I'm self-employed, I spend a lot of time in my art/zen room creating, writing, looking up at these flags. 

I watch the sun shift its light through the window; my dog sleeps on my lap while I look for freelance work; I take tea breaks and read Pink Smog by Francesca Lia Block and remember how utterly beautiful her writing is. 

These days are good, quiet, busy. These days are the ones I dreamed of many months ago, so it's only natural that I would start worrying about losing them. 

I try not to think about it though, and I do the best work I can do and relish each dreamy moment. 

Today I finished my second ebook, Keep Walking - A Journey Through the Deserts of Life. Throughout the whole writing process the words just flowed, so I know this book was meant to be. There are people out there who need this information. I needed it! I wrote it to help me figure out how to get through the transitional periods in life. I wrote it because I needed to be my own cheerleader, my own guide through what felt like a massive desert that I was never getting out of. 

If this sounds like something that might help you, pop on over to The Sacred Middle and get your free copy. 

Right now I'm listening to a beautiful song of chimes and flute called Dreamcatcher by Angels of Venice. There's something about the sound of chimes that brings peace. I think of light breezes and daydreaming by tiny waterfalls.