where the writers are

April 26




Perfectionism is a cover, a blanket of lead; hard to move and rich with poison.  What it tries to hide is my unwillingness to struggle and strive.  It’s not a fear of failure, but the horror of success after a long hot pursuit.  If I can stall on the intricacies of the first move there is no further movement.  If I can fail before I begin there is no sweat, no stain, no stink.  Catastrophe is no bother, but skinned knees are my undoing.  Winning is not so important to me; my unfortunate goal is to look untroubled.

     Snap a picture of your beliefs  


  TRANSITIONS During the months of winterThe trees stand tall and leaflessStatic in their appearance, frozen in direction The insurgence of spring brings to life the truthThe buds and flowers show the draw of the their ownersThe pull of life from the earth and sky. Other trees have begun to restore the gifts so graciously givenThese leafless giants open themselvesAs home and sustenance to the surrounding community Returning favors and flavors, coming to terms with wholenessCelebrations of all I have, call for me to give backEven during the time when we all look the same.