Author Archives: ridingmysoul

Give Me a Bit


I can not save the world today. I can not save you. I may not be able save me. I can not be all I am, because I am too determined to deny parts of me. Therefore you will not be tolerated. Can not be tolerated. Your cute little quirks will wander around under my skin, digging painful little caves that no amount of scratching or digging at can erase, because my own are still eating away at my flesh from the inside out. I can not provide you with perfect love, cloaking you in the warmth of my deep affection for you. I can not because I have prepared for myself a steel wool head wrap and covered my body in barbed wire fencing. So you will not be well served to approach my door with hope and a smile. You will likely be burned by the anger you find on the door knob. If you are so brave as to enter, you will be greeted with impatience instead of acceptance, annoyance instead of compassion. For this I apologize. It is not you. It is me I am angry with. So if I retreat into my own world, trust I am not there to dig into my sorrows but to try to love them. I am not trying to push you away but to push into myself deeper. There is room for everyone at my home deep within, so I will be headed there right away. Give me a bit to arrive and get comfortable and set a place for you. There, you will be welcome to join me, to show up as you are. I will have no expectations for you, no anger with you, no fear of what you may do to me. I will love you in your entirety. Here is not the place for coffee and conversation. Here is dirty and the air is too thick for comfortable breathing. So give me just a bit to prepare. To be still. To go home. And I will call you when I am ready to receive you. When I am prepared to give of myself the way you deserve for me to show up for you. As I am. In love with me. In love with you.

Confessions of a Dreaming Control Freak…


A dreamer.  Childlike, wondrous, pretending in my head to be whatever suits my fancy kind of dreamer.  Outright scary, juicy dreams kind of dreamer.  My desires creating a beautiful painting harnessing every detail of my hearts desire.  Far away, high atop a dragon guarded castle, locked away in a prison.  I know where it is.  I can feel it’s precise location.  I know what it looks like.  I know every brush stroke.  I know every shade and every reflection of light.  I can see that painting without ever laying my eyes on it.  I know it so well, and my fingers shake at the very thought of holding it.  

When a control freak is a dreamer…frustration becomes an annoying unwanted house guest.  It uses the last bit of soap, does not flush the toilet, and puts empty cereal cartons back in the cupboard.  I know I can ask or demand my pesky guest leave, but if I request it vacate the premises, I know it will take my control with it.  Those two are thick as thieves, loyal only to each other, and while I always am left feeling like a third wheel when they are around, they still woo me with the most beautiful love stories.  What I can be with them, what they can offer me, what I would be without them.  So I cave under their pressure every time.  As I watch control, carrying his suitcase towards the door, I reach out and grab hold.  I beg, oh how I beg for him to stay, to allow me one more chance to make it work.  This time we can learn to love together.  This time we can be perfect.  “We have made it this far,” I cry.  And every time he drops his bag, allowing frustration to dump the contents back upon my floor for me to scoop up.  I take my fluffy blanket and sweater from the pile of baggage, swing it over me, and relax in the comfort of knowing that I am running the show.  I know frustration and control are holding hands beneath the covers, smirking at my gullibility, and appreciating they once again bought a little more time living for free under my roof.  I close my eyes and imagine my beautiful painting, in all of it’s grandeur, and I envision the path.  As long as control and frustration are in my presence, I know the path is unclear.  I can go no farther.  I can not dare tread down an unknown path, no I must KNOW the path before hand.  I must have perfect clarity.  They will not allow me to travel into fog.  Even though I watch, in my mind, the fog calling me, one outstretched finger beckoning me, challenging me to move, to trust, to go. 

When a soul seeker is a control freak…there is nothing to do but fight for release.  To break free at all costs, sacrificing everything to pursue that which is a deeper calling.  To demand to be heard, to scream and scratch the walls that bind.  To walk away bruised, battered, and barely breathing, but so alive…so incredibly alive!  To war on the side of angels and guides, preaching the word of the Universe, arguing on the side of humanity.  To crawl through the buried guck, the everything that has been collected as excuses for the need to control.  So I struggle to untangle my limbs from the web of lies I have fed my damaged ego for so many years.  To cut the cords that keep my feet held to the earth, and allow myself to fly into possibility again.  To let my soul carry me towards my dream.  To trust my soul when it says, “Let go of more”, and drop more balls of old weighted damage that I used to associate with who I was before I knew any better, allowing us to speed up, to fly easier, to glide gracefully through the wind.

When a dreamer is a soul seeker…the desire to reach the goal and the desire to go deeper can both battle and love. Like a couple who’s children have left home, trying to dedicate all of their time to each other and to themselves.  Relearning what balance feels like.  Learning when it is more important to share love or self love.  When action is necessary, when rest is the only solution.  So I dedicate my life to finding a way to trust fully.  To answer the pull to move forward, to do, to achieve.  To join my soul in rest when it requests, to know it knows more than my head what I need and when I need it.  To trust.

When a soul seeker is a dreamer…I work to trust, let go, and envision the dream in all it’s beautiful detail.

Moment of Love


Where the earth meets the eternal home

Where my prayer meets its answer

Where my dark meets its light

That is where I reside

Yet I frequently miss it

Passing it by for something far less magnificent

Ignoring it for nonsense that creates a future that differs from my hopes

So this moment

I will sit in the feeling of my intention

I intend to be love

And this moment

And this moment

And every moment that I can set my intention I will

I will release my prayers

My love

My hopes

My needs

And I intent to go into more moments with conscious intention

And so this moment –  I am love.

And this moment

And this moment

You can find me here


You can find me here

Fallen too deep in my own thoughts to notice the madness

Beautiful manifestations in the making interrupted by the distractions of the world

A life that should be given far more attention

That is desperately in need of more intention

Of a major creative focus

Of a major dumping of excess

Of a ferocious clearing of space

To open room for my souls expansion

The pulsing need for breaking through to a wider space thumping against my being

So loud I can barely hear anything else above its pounding demands

Leaving me emotionally depleted

Yet strangely fulfilled

In need of a quiet break

Yet desperately behind on magic making

You can find me here

Until my task is completed

Be Careful What You Ask For


I was resistant to reading an email that was sitting in my inbox.  While the entire subject was not visible, I knew what it said.  I knew the lesson it contained, and it took no time to decide I didn’t want it.  The very idea of it had my head dizzy with anxiety.  I wanted to be open.  My goal for 2014 is to go willingly where I am led, to follow the pull of my soul without resistance, to let be what will be, and to feel my way through the process willingly, without shutting down.  Yet here I was shutting out the feelings I did not want to experience…telling the tug in my soul that I was not ready yet.  I needed more time.   I needed to “fix” some things first, then I would be ready.  I could get everything in order, and then I would be receptive.  My soul raised its eyebrows, and as it has done so many times before, sat down in the sun and waited for me to hold my hand out in surrender.  Sometimes it waits a long time.

I decided on a baby step into surrender…I read the rest – all about giving up control.  My heart shed tears at the very thought.  At what cost?  What will this do to me?  What will I give up?  Would I still recognize myself?  Will I fail again?  Can I do this?

I read it, though I skipped words in an act of equal parts defiance and fear.  I could not help but understand.  I could not continue to set a goal of trusting my soul when my ego was in charge.  I could not surrender to the wave of my soul’s travels if I was still throwing my oars in to alter the direction.  I could not be both what I am and what I want to be.

This, on the heels a few of the most anxiety ridden days I have had in years, was more than I could stand.  But then I wonder.  That anxiety that I earlier today could not place, that had no known source…was lightened after this reading.  As if this reaction, opposite my expectations, was a relief.  I had been preparing for the unknown all along, and here I was, prepared to face it.

I want to own that shit.  I want to feel it in every ounce of my being that I am flowing endlessly with the universe, but I am not.

But I know this now…

While I am not yet flowing seamlessly with my soul, I am headed in the same direction.

While I am not yet jumping into the wind, I am keeping the breeze at my back as a guide.

While I am not ready to walk across the water, I have every intention of seeing how it feels to float.

While I may cry my resistance, I will cry it crawling forward and let the universe share my burden and heal my soul.

Not Quite As Lost As I Believed I Was…


In the cleaning of my basement, I stumbled across a notebook of old poetry.   I have only read through a few pieces so far, because it was a lot to take in…that visit to who I was.   As I made space in the literal sense, I was blessed with opening up and making space for so much more.  The emotional aftermath was incredible.  The least lasting of the wave of emotions was that I felt genuine sadness for what I endured.  Pain.  Disappointment.  Hurt.  Loneliness.  Depression.  Anxiety.  Worthlessness.  So many feelings are so distant to me now, that while I felt pity for the me that was, I also felt incredibly powerful.  I have always questioned if I had healed or simply shoved down deep enough that I tricked myself.  Today, I feel that while there is always work to do, I have had deep healing.  I had overcome and grown from who I was.

I was also relieved.  Relieved to know that I can reinvent myself many times over, as often as I like, as many times as I so choose.  Instead of viewing the details of my journey, I was faced with the map linking the beginning to where I am now.  How empowering it was to see how far I had traveled.

The feeling that was most prevalent was pride.  Even before I understand what it meant, I was seeking my soul.  Before I knew the Universe was in me, I knew to direct my search inward.  Before I knew the struggles would lead to this beautiful moment, I was grateful for my experiences, and appreciated the strength I was gifted.  If you asked me when in this life I was most lost, I would have told you this period I documented in those pages.  How incredible to see I was not lost at all.  I was seeking, fighting so hard to find what I knew I needed to, but with a lack of knowledge and a life I had created that worked against my purpose.  But still, I pushed forward, and still I prevailed.

I hear so often this human experience is guided.  We know before we arrive what we need to learn, and we decide to place ourselves in circumstances that nurture those experiences.  I know this. I believe it.  But here was this beautiful truth.  This gorgeous “yes” vibrating through the universe, reminding me that my path was always perfect.  I knew what I needed, and every pain, every joy was part of that journey by choice.  My choice.  To allow me to know and trust my soul.  I have always known.  I just needed to walk through the journeys to move on.

It leaves me so awestruck.  If I was that aware when I was so “lost”, how much more will I do?  If I am happy where I am, I am going to be ecstatic in the future.  I look forward to reading my story                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             in 10 years, so much more knowledgeable, aware, in touch…and smile as I realize I was always on my way there.  This life is incredible.

So to the Universe, I say to you the most appropriate quote to express my soulthanks for this beautiful life and please forgive me if I don’t love it enough (unknown author).

I will be far more conscious of expressing that love and gratitude.

If Only I Could


If only I could stop looking for comparisons
Better, worse, lesser, more.
If only I could stop looking for baselines
Where do my inadequacies fall on the chart?
If only I could avoid looking
For answers in others, their achievements, their strengths
If only I could be sure
That I am not just following another one of my substanceless ideas that will fall conveniently into the pile of failed ideas that were never meant to materialize into any more than an immature thoughts like playing school or doctor or rockstar.
If only I could love my own work
Simply because it is the truth and it is meaningful and documents the desires of my soul, our soul, the being of all of us
If only I knew
What I was willing to invest in return for the development of my gift. What I would sacrifice for a shot at possible success, with the likelihood of failure. What I would become.
What I already Am.
If only I could know I am. Enough.
I think I know. But that power is frightening.

Taking Home Those Pretty Ones


photo 1There is no place on earth I would rather be than beside the water. There is no sickness of the heart that I have not found the beach to be the medicine for. Looking out upon the water is my heaven. As the sun falls, dropping pieces of it’s sparkling heart amongst the low waves, I am drawn into a state of amazement. There is nothing so beautiful as the joining of the two, welcoming the next phase of the day…the most perfect transition the earth has ever experienced.

I sit and let the water wash from me all that does not serve me. Even though I sit amongst my children, I find perfect calm. I fall into silence. I find myself only saying what is necessary, what serves a purpose, nothing more. I let the waves take away my pain and splash peace back into my soul. They know what their purpose is without being told. They just grace me healing, with love, because I need it, and it is there to serve me. What it needs from me is to leave it’s presence better than I came, to depart so full of appreciation and love and hope that I can not help but share it with the world. It’s only job to heal. When I am one with the water I can not help but feel pure power and connectedness. I am but a drop in the wave in the water that makes up this world. I am but a drop, but I am a drop. The waters of the world would be incomplete without that drop, so I am that world. I am one with everything. That is what the beach offers me.

So I explore the floor of the ocean just below the tide. The simplest of stones, with their constant blessings of the waves, open their pages to share every line of their story. Everything they have seen is displayed in their wet brilliance. Every color, every damage spot, every smoothed lustrous curve wet and enhanced by the water. Water does that. It clarifies, it takes out all that is dull and exposes it for what it truly is. It makes the light appear as the magic it is, and the dark appear equally as much. There is no judgment, no wrong or right, just what is…perfectly and untarnished.

I take them home, those pretty ones. I choose the ones who call me, who want me to know them. Who desire to let me feel them and share their experiences. They, so much older and wiser than me, carry an overwhelming energy. Their strength weighs me down, grounds me in the purest way. I take home so many.

When I see them dry, they lack their luster. All those brilliant colors are but shades of grey. I love them as they are. I considered taking them back. Was I doing their beauty a disservice by keeping them from their water? Keeping them from their home where every bit of their beauty shows? I wondered this. Then I realized…I still love them. I do not need to see them in their physical brilliance to know their true magnificence. That is what they were teaching me. To love them. To know what their beauty looks like even when I can not see it with my eyes. To see their beauty with my heart. And to trust that the beauty is within everything. In every person. And to see it in me.

And that is when I grew an inch


I had a dream, hope some may call it

A calling, a blessing

I felt the tug none the less

A silent gentle nudge to just take a step

Baby steps, nothing terrifying, just a step

To warm my heart

To keep me centered, to bring me closer to me

A pressure, comfortable and loving

So I trusted and I stepped


That is when I grew an inch


The experience of fear will do that do that to you

Creeping up on a dream

Unsure if it will remain still and await your arrival,

Ready to embrace you in warm light

Or if it will turn and run,

Resentful of your arrogant choice to get so close

Stars do not wish to be tarnished by such hands

That is why they don’t sit beside you

So I reach with force just in case

To get a head start

To increase my chances


That is when I grew an inch


I moved fast into bravery

Making my intention known, stepping into my light

Demanding what I craved to meet me half way

Being clear about what I needed

Expecting that it was already mine

Concentrating long and hard

Pure, uncluttered desire in my stare


That is when I grew an inch


Recognizing there was no purpose behind my movement

Knowing it was mine all along

I had only to hold my hand out for it to arrive

I only had to smile at it

To have it leap and roll to meet me where I was

I had only to feel it to trust that it was in me

Everything is mine,

And I belong to everything.

And That is when I grew an inch.



So I was feeling resistance. And I don’t mean the kind of resistance that takes you out of your comfort zone and encourages you to be more than you were yesterday…no, not that kind.

I am talking about the kind of resistance that grabs ahold of your will and screams, “Do you know what you are in for here? You have no idea what you are doing.” “Do you know the risk? You will never make it.” “Do you know what this means? This will ruin you.”

The kind that crushes your confidence into little balls of paper and throws them at you often enough that eventually you can always hear the low grumble of laughter in the background reminding you that you are not good enough. The kind that chews up little pieces of your spirit and spits them back, mushed and a lesser version of what was, onto the first line of your paper. So every time you look at that notebook you want to throw up, disgusted by the very thought of running your hand against that filth.

So I typed instead. It didn’t feel good at first, but soon the tears were proof that I broke through the gate. I had released my own soul and was squeezing the shit out of that resistance, choking the life right out of it. So I stood amongst the falling mess of tears, owning my place, claiming it as my own, stamping my feet so hard the earth caved to my demands and buried itself below the place it had previously called home. I knew what I had to do. I had to create. I had no choice. I could not reclaim my life until I accepted my ability, my responsibility, my love. Creating myself, my future, my state of mind…so when I feel like creating, I will create…every day. Against any resistance.

I will no longer need to rush resistance, bucking up for a fight. I will just stand right where I am, with the smirk of assuredness, and let resistance just try. I may need to flex my muscles, grit my teeth, and fall a bit deeper into my squat to hold my space. I may. But I will raise my hands and grab ahold of the universe, and I remain right where I am, in the little divot the earth created just for me. And that resistance is going to need to find a new home, because this space is being occupied.

Maybe this was the kind of resistance that takes you out of your comfort zone and encourages you to be more than you were yesterday…