To the one who grieves loudly, or for longer than people believe you should, or in ways others find uncomfortable or inconvenient or messy. YOU ARE NOT TOO MUCH. To the one who laughs at top volume and who always wears the clothes that feel the most like you, regardless …
Hey. You. This is your PSA to keep creating. Create and create and create and create. And put it out there. Share it with the world. Every last chance you get. Fuck that fear of being seen. Fuck that worry that people will think you’re too much. Fuck the way …
We are creatures built on a foundation of want. And sometimes that wanting is nestled so deep it dare not show itself, for fear of being seen and known in a way that makes it too real to be denied. Sometimes that want becomes a small, hard kernel of longing …
Some nights it’s true, there just aren’t any words, no pretty ones anyway. None worth showing to the world. None that even seem worth the pages of your journal. Just self-indulgent scrawls that amount to nothing. Some nights the silence is too heavy to hear through. Some nights no matter …
You can wear red lipstick and still be feminist as fuck. You can fall madly in love with your whole entire being, body and soul and still search for magical solutions for your undereye circles or your muffin top or your adult acne. You can be so solidly grounded in …
“Are you okay, beauty?” “Not so much, but it’s really something I should not discuss because it should never have been in the first place. I’m sure karma and her friends are raining down upon my head. I deserve to battle alone…” No. That is a lie. A lie that …
This week I got one of the most badass jobs in the world – I got invited to guest read the weekly Rebel Reading for my favorite-in-the-history-of-ever tarot card deck, Rebel Deck. Now – these ain’t your mama’s tarot cards, which means I got to dust off my ‘talks like a sailor” inner …
How long have you been waiting to tell your story? Not a week (rarely a day) goes by when I don’t hear from someone out there in this wild world of ours, someone just like you. Someone with a regular, ordinary, mundane life. Someone with joy and bliss and heartache …
This is a poem for the women violated, and for those who stand in support and love and solidarity. For partners, for lovers, for friends. For all those women harmed, and for all those who held and loved them in the aftermath. Maybe not perfectly, maybe not with unfailing grace, …
I woke up this morning Slowly Reluctantly And this familiar heaviness settled into my being The weight of all things For which I hold responsibility And even those for which I am not Responsible But insist on claiming as weight As mine to carry Out of some Misplaced sense Of …
Today, when I went to my car To go meet my good friend for coffee And to visit another friend And her baby Who we hadn’t seen in quite a while I looked down to see a feather resting on the handle of the door A little feather Tiny, really. …
This is a love letter for the writers… Hey you. You who writes. You who keeps on writing. You who pours out your hurt and your joy and your bliss and your ways of being and existing and understanding onto page and screen. You who hits the submit button again …
This is my first morning without the kids this week, and predictably, I woke from my internal 6am alarm clock. But today I allowed myself the sweet grace of a little more sleep, still smiling the smile I went to bed with last night after a much needed evening with …
I set the alarm last night thinking I probably wouldn’t to it. Up too late writing wild. Too tired. I don’t usually follow through. The alarm was a half-assed thought, really. Another way, maybe, to feel badly about myself for not doing what I say I will do. But when …
My entire last decade hinged on the power of one question alone. The answer, when I lived into it, dismantled all I had known and transported me into a life that looked nothing like the one I expected to be living. No doubt, questions can hold a tremendous sort of …
Last night The earth started shaking Where she lives Though it was steady here literally If not metaphorically Or steady enough At least That I didn’t feel movement In the ground Beneath my own feet Thought it must have moved I think At least the smallest imperceptible amount. Because if …
This was the week of the whole and the holy. The week of wine in mason jars and the tears that hit so hard I became salt water for a while and as the night grew deeper I pulled a chair into the kitchen to reach high on tip toes …
{this piece came out, raw and ready. no clean up or cool down. just the words that needed to be born, right then. the kind of freewriting that shoots out, whole and complete. stream of conscious, unconcerned with structure or style. just knowing that the words must be released, exactly …
Most of you probably noticed that June was pride month. If you weren’t already aware, the plethora of rainbows on social media probably gave it away. Around the world us gays are got the chance to celebrate being..well….really gay (in the very best way). There were photos of parties and …
{Listen to the music that inspired this post while you read} “If I needed you. Would you come to me? Would you come to me for to ease my pain? If you needed me, I would come to you. I would swim the sea for to ease your pain.” ~If I …
{get writing is a brand new series of writing prompts, exercises and resources that I’ll be rolling out here each month to provide inspiration, guidance and structure to your writing practice. stay tuned for more} Listen to the audio reading: Don’t think too much. As a matter of fact, don’t …
Dear Jeanette I have left everything behind and embarked overseas to start a new chapter of my life. I had a good life but it wasn’t enough. Something was calling me from deep within. I yearned for something more. And now? I’m here. The goodbyes and letting go left me …
{This may be the longest post I have ever shared here – and yet it is just beginning, and the words keep coming in a way that tells me that this is a part of a much larger project that will continue to take shape over the next few months. …
This time around – Uncommon Sense is a little different. This time, instead of being the one who answers the question – full of wisdom and all the right words – I am the one asking, the one tangled in doubt and insecurity and the wilds of creative resistance. The …
