Full Moon Fuel.

I woke up with anxiety that made my heart feel like I was playing in the NBA finals. I blame the full moon. Watch out for werewolves. But honestly, I do believe that astrological effects are legit. So I went to yoga because it’s one of my go-to’s when it comes to calming the heck down.

And my teacher read this poem and everything made sense. That’s all I need to say. It’s so raw and real and wildly right. So I share it with you. Ache for something. Goodnight. -k

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

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‘Fear can keep us up all night but faith makes one fine pillow.’

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Frozen Movements.

What do you do when you feel you’re due for a little bit of too good to be true? Does it push you forward or push you away? Does it fuck with your freedom?

I had a couple of comfort convos today about just that. Finding the freedom and hidden fabulous of tough times. There’s a glow of greatness in absolutely everything that falls at your feet or in front of your face. I do believe that. Even when it shakes up your sensitive soul. I also believe that it takes the continuation of life’s great dance to make believing it a habit as oppose to just head filled hopes. Time is a blessing. And the transitions that two-step there way into your life are a blessing.

I’ve really rambled about life alot lately. Sometimes I don’t even know if my rants make sense but they make sense to me. Four years ago I felt one of those transitions. At the time I had been frozen for years. Life offered me it’s hand and said dance with me a new way. I didn’t expect to continue experiencing the transitions as much as I have but I almost get high off of them. Maybe I look for them and that’s why I notice them. I can’t wait for them, even when they’re challenging, because they’ve only brought me freedom. And I full out love a good challenge. Even if it took a minute or a day or months for the transition to mold me and make me realize why it spun me to the right. Because it was right. And I was left to be better. I challenge you to accept them in all forms. -k

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‘Sometimes you find yourself in the middle of nowhere and sometimes in the middle of nowhere you find yourself.’

Just because.

I’m just going to talk for a moment. Through text and type.

Ah. Mama told me to take a breath tonight. The final buzzer rang on the Raptors season last night. That’s the end of seven for me. I don’t know anything else since I received my diploma from post secondary. I think it’s only appropriate to insert ‘life flies when you’re having fun’ right about here. Someone instagrammed something about how incredible it is when passion and career collide. I sit here nodding my head as I type that.

You know, blogging is an interesting thing. Trusting that people want to read your tumbling late night thoughts is hard. Growing up is hard. Finding your place in the world is hard. Trusting that what you’ve become as you’ve grown up and found your place in the world is hard. Thankfully I’m a sucker for a good fight.

I feel a fight coming. And I’m okay with it. An artists life is a competitive venture. Trusting that you’ve got what it takes is hard. I’m one thousand percent that person that feels everything that breezes by them through looks and words and motions and sits on the couch or subway or office chair analyzing the shit out of it on days where I feel stuck. I don’t love those moments and I’m still figuring out how to give them the finger. It’s hard for me to type that. It’s scary for me to press publish.

I’m a private person which reminds me how whacky it is that I share my life tales through social media daily. What I wear, what I think, where I am, what I drink … cheers.

Every piece of text needs a purpose. So what was the purpose of this? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s just a free falling expression of something that I needed to get out. Maybe it’s that I hope that I can connect with you. Like we’re standing side by side on the same level. That we feel the same. That makes me feel safe. Everybody’s got their something. It doesn’t matter what you do or drive or dare say. Your turn. -k

A Simple +1.

It’s funny what an effortless flip of a calendar can do to your soul. A simple +1. A visual leap to the top. A new unpredictable countdown as you quietly absorb the past. The faces that are still smiling in the same room as you and the ones that trickled away with time. The drops of secrets wiped away by your pillowcase and the emotional thrills of victory absorbed by your apartment walls. Meeting people and standing in places that were once only a photograph of wonderland in your curious hands. The million miles that you walked and the million thoughts that you talked. Anxious hopes on the pursuit of personal victory. Visions. Oblivious climbs. Complicated kindness. A simple warm love that knocked three times when you weren’t expecting anybody. The calculated hope that smiles far surpass fears. Nobody needs to know and nobody needs to see. A rainbow of elegant wonders that started just like this on a simple piece of lined freedom the last time a flip of a calendar put you in this place. I was always a sucker for rollercoasters. Let’s go on again… -k

Thank you, Art.

Art let’s me escape, whether it be between sports scripts or daily doses of the unexpected. Those moments that you don’t foreshadow when your head leaves your peaceful pillow post sweet dreams. And yet all those moments are realistically art. Because there is art in everything.

And everyday it seems that sometime around midnight is when I usually grab Art’s hand and we dance or sing or write lyrical nonsense. That is when I feel the most confident. The most relaxed. It’s when the words ‘I don’t give a shit’ hold the most truth. I’m thankful to have found him. I’m thankful that my Art is accepted by my family and peers and strangers. I’m the most thankful that he always let’s me be me.

And tonight between sports scripts I filled other windows on my desktop with Art and his tales. And then he showed me this and it was the perfect goodnight. So, goodnight. -k