that's mrs. mediocrity to you

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What central story is at the core of you, and how do you
share it with the world?

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At my core is a vein filled with sap and sugar, lifeblood for the words that grow along these branches. Each leaf is a word that waits to be written, and as I put its shape to paper, it glides gently to the ground.

The central story at the core of me is a story waiting to be written.
I don’t know the ending just yet, I know the names of several characters, I know the protagonist, I know the location.

I see myself standing exactly in the middle between the trees in the picture above. I see my feet taking root and my arms growing strong, I see myself reaching for the sun in summer. I see the rain that will wash me, the ice that will cling to my branches, seeking warmth. I see the colors I will wear in autumn, how fresh and lovely I will look in spring.

I see the expanse of sky above me that makes me feel endless. I see the field around me that offers nourishment to the world. I see the bird that lands on a branch and serenades me every morning.

At night I watch the stars wrestle with eternity. I see my mother, the moon. She sings me lullabyes when I weep and cradles me in her arms when I am weary from all this growing.

At dawn the sun nudges me ever so gently, sends a breeze across my shoulders to wake me.

I begin to whisper. All day long, I whisper my stories to the sky.

And then I stand and I wait, not knowing who will listen.

{reverb10} check it out here

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This month, gifts and gift-giving can seem inescapable. What’s
the most memorable gift, tangible or emotional, you received this year?

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this one was easy.

you were my gift.

yes, you.

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every word you read,

every comment you left.

all gifts in tiny

little packages.

::

and i thank you

from the bottom

of my heart.

::

{reverb10} check it out here

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Describe a defining moment or series of events that
has affected your life this year.

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the moments that

defined my year

were not the moments

i remember best.

::

the defining

moments

were all the single,

fleeting

drops of time

that i’ve

forgotten.

::

{reverb10} check it out here

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What’s the thing you most want to achieve next year?

I didn’t want to pick a word, I wasn’t going to pick a word, I am
superstitious about these things. But here I am, picking a word.
There is more to this prompt, more about writing down ways to
achieve this thing you most want to achieve.

Perhaps I will do those on my own, perhaps not.
I may just let this word hang there for a little while
until I get used to it.

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balance.

::

i want to achieve

balance.

::

with a little

crazy

thrown in,

for good

measure.

::

{reverb10} check it out here

::

Our most profound joy is often experienced during ordinary moments.
What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year?

I feel like I have already answered this, twice. So instead…

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this morning

i opened my back door

and breathed in

the scent

of winter.

::

i stood for a moment

cold

and did not wish

to be anywhere

but here.

::

{reverb10} check it out here

::

Soul food. What did you eat this year that you will never forget?
What went into your mouth & touched your soul?

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First and foremost, I ate words. I ate them for breakfast, lunch and dinner, I sampled them in my dreams, I devoured them on Sundays when I had nothing else to do.

I’ve never touched the tip of my tongue to a word I did not like. Never found the cauliflower of words. Never tried to hide one in my mashed potatoes so my mother would think that I had eaten it.

I have spit a lot of words out, at the wrong times, in the wrong places, aimed in the wrong direction.

Those are the words that were the hardest to eat, the ones I found it almost impossible, later, to digest.

The ones that come back to haunt, or at the very least, to taunt.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

Bullshit.

But I have also munched on words of joy and crunched down hard on moments of insight and once or twice broken a tooth on a revelation.

Those are the words that made me cry, their taste so potent, so all-encompassing that they brought me to my knees.

Those are the words I hunted for, over and over again, digging down deep through layers of dirt and a lifetime of detritus, scooping up tiny pieces of my soul on a spoon and holding them up to the light.

Those are the words I swallowed whole.

Nothing has ever touched my soul more than words.

But despite having said all that, don’t even think

about touching my chocolate.

{reverb10} check it out here

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Photo – a present to yourself. Sift through all the photos of you
from the past year. Choose one that best captures you; either who you are,
or who you strive to be. Find the shot of you that is worth a thousand words.
Share the image, who shot it, where, and what it best reveals about you.

::

This is the photo I took of myself
for my first blog post, entitled Not I.

I hate photos of myself.

But this one means something to me.

It’s a long story, you’d have to read all the posts
from the entire year to hear it.

Or, in a sentence:
It was the beginning of a journey.

This is me.

{reverb10} check it out here

::

What was the best moment that could serve as proof
that everything is going to be alright? And how will you incorporate that
discovery into the year ahead?

Yes, cheating again, but this was one such moment as it happened, in process.
A moment I wrote my way through back in June, wrote my way
through the angst and complaints and came out on the other side
holding up a morsel of hope.

And hey, it’s Christmas Eve.

Happy Holidays to you.

::

a spoonful of sugar.

An afternoon that swallows time. Even when I beg, there is
no more. Deadlines and desideritas, my life.

I take myself too seriously. Ponder things that can’t be solved. Worship silence and sanctuary when there is none. Too many moments pass while I stare out my window.

A garden that grows without me. A tale that was not true.
A mystery that has no answer. My life.

A series of situations. A corner that keeps my secrets. A broom
that sweeps almost nothing clean. My life.

Some days overwhelm me. Some days wait to be taken.
Some days sing songs that only I can hear. Some days I sit on
the floor and weep. This is not my imagination.

A forest that leaves light unspoken. A tree that whispers platitudes. A fern that grows in shadow. My life.

A sunbeam filled with dancers. A teardrop left unclaimed.
A glimpse of mediocrity. My life.

Dreams that claim my sleep the way lovers claim their hearts.
Things I cannot have lined up before me. Things I do not want
stand next in line.

A comfort that eludes me. A melody of words that have no tune.
A signature I do not recognize. My life.

A smile on my lips, of strawberries and wine.

A summer day that does not end.

I stand here, waiting.

{reverb10} check it out here

::

Let’s meet again, for the first time. If you could
introduce yourself to strangers by another name for just one day,
what would it be and why?

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Once again, this is something I already did this year.

Hello.

My name is Mrs. Mediocrity.

Why?

Because it took me 47 years to embrace the fact that
I am you and you are me and
we are all in this world together.

Can you feel me, hugging you?

::

{reverb10} check it out here

::

How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like
to travel next year?

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I am a hermit by nature. I don’t get out much, mostly by choice. Wanderlust is not my middle name. But since I was very young, I have traveled to many places. Through reading.

Places of the heart and places of the wild. Places I would never want to visit, and places I yearn to explore. Places that exist and places that I wish did not.

I have traveled this world, and several others, fallen down more than one rabbit hole, lived more lives than I can count.

I grew up on a street filled with families, my neighborhood was always bursting with children. My brothers were always off somewhere, playing hide and seek, or war, or who knows what else. They were always out with their friends, traversing life through social experiment.

Most often, I could be found on the porch or on the couch, with a book or three or four, traversing life through the words and experiences of others.

I read a bit less these days, but only because I have less time. I am more discerning about the places I go, if I begin a journey and I am not enjoying myself, I go back home and choose another.

Words have always been my favorite mode of travel. Next year, there will be more words flowing through my mind, through my fingers, through my veins.

And oh, the places I’ll see.

{reverb10} check it out here