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Your first child listened to classical music

You read to them for hours

You kept them sugar and chemical free

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You have read the book! Twice!

And your child STILL doesn't do it.

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Unlimit Your Limits PDF Print E-mail
Written by CC   
Friday, 05 August 2016 10:46



I hate that word. I hate what it represents. 

I hate that there are limits. 

But there are.

In life

In my life

I am short

I will never be tall. 

Some people don’t walk on their own two feet

That’s not a metaphor.

Some people can’t hear music

Or speech

Or birds

Or tires screeching.


Some people hide

Because their minds won’t allow them peace.

Some suffer loss

They’ll never extricate from.

Some are ugly.

Some hide behind their beauty.

Some are run by fear

Some tread over others without fear

And kill even so

Either way.


Despite all the accolades

The self-help options

The churches

The prisons

The teachings

The teachers

The mantras

The self-degradation









We all have limitations

To what we can do

Or think

Or make happen.


Skip a beat.


That’s all. 

It’s true

Accept it

And who fucking cares

What is it you can’t do?

Today, who cares.

Do something else 

With what you already have. 


Your limits

Are only what

You limit them to


If you can’t walk, sing

If you can’t see, dance in a padded room

If you fear, do something safe

Or scary

But let go for one minute

And see yourself

WITH your limit

Hold it

And see

If when you hold and embrace it

It feels more like a friend

And less like a foe.

See if you can work


And become a limit

Outside the box

Of what you know

Have been told

Or told yourself.


Unlimit your limits


I am short

I will never be tall

I’ll bite a kneecap today

On someone lengthy.

Or maybe crawl through something

No one tall ever could.

Or maybe I will climb a mountain

Because my little legs allow me to.

And I'll believe

For just a moment

That it doesn’t matter

How long those legs are


It don’t.

Superbly Uneventful PDF Print E-mail
Written by CC   
Monday, 01 August 2016 10:35

My son started junior high today. 

I write that.  And pause.  And read it again.  Is that possibly the whole blog post?

I started writing when that beautiful boy was a wee child with big blue eyes, wild strength and bravery, a mercurial mood, and the ability to rile me up like no other.  And of great note, he had the deepest soul.

And today he got up all by himself.  I showered while he got ready.  Yes, I still reminded him to brush his damn teeth, which thank God, are still in his freaking mouth-- even though I swear they’ve only been properly brushed twice since I let him take over that responsibility. 

Buried in Pieces of Peace PDF Print E-mail
Written by CC   
Friday, 24 June 2016 09:32

A lot of times we want the world to call out to us.  We search for meaning, for clues, for messages from…  God or psychics or friends or family or songs on the radio.  We want to know what this or that means.  We wonder who is the best for support, for love, for happiness, for strength, for meaning… 


I read blogs and apps and and might even be doing one or several of the things above.  And then. 


I sat still for a moment.  I put down my meditation app, my Pema Chodron book, my psychic cards from a fabulous new connection, my fervent prayer, my 2 hour conversation with a dear friend, my family’s generous love and time. 




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