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Day 18 of 30: swimming upstream

Salmon spend their whole lives
Trying to get back to the place where they were born
The very first place where their lifelong swim began
Their entire lives are dedicated to returning
To using each and every one of their senses
To find their way back
The only way they can lay their eggs
And start a new generation of salmon
Is by going back to where it started
They follow a circular path
And spend the majority of their journey
Swimming upstream
Against the current
Resilient
Focused
Unyieldingly determined
They do not cease until they have arrived at their birthplace

I am a salmon
You are a salmon
At the end of the day we are all just sacred salmon
Swimming upstream to begin where we began

Day 16 of 30: home

Home is the place
where you don’t have to pretend
Where your face without makeup is recognized and loved
Where you’ll never be told you look tired
When you look like yourself
Where imperfections abound
Patterns creep up
And cycles keep repeating
But we manage to fit
in the spaces between
Broken and whole
All at once
Home is where your hope is
Where your roots are
Where your purpose began
It’s everything you’ve searched for your entire life
In your mother’s embrace
Or your sisters laughter
Or your fathers jokes
Or your lover’s hand
Or your best friend’s smile
Home is where the world makes sense again
Way before you ventured to new lands
To live the dreams you were dreaming when you were still at home
Home is the place you dream of
When all your dreams come true

Day 15 of 30: it’s broken read the sign

Today I found myself in a fed Ex office.
My printer is broken,
So I had to search elsewhere for my printing needs.
I signed in to a workstation,
Printed out what I needed and proceeded on my merry way
Until I noticed,
I was missing something…
The pages I had come there for;
I was empty-handed!
You see,
They never printed out.
My documents were somewhere in the infinite computer abyss,
Floating in cyber space,
Nothing tangible about them.
I asked a friendly Fed Ex worker
What was going on.
‘The black and white printer is broken’
Didn’t you see the signs?
There are signs everywhere. You’ve got to use the color printer.’
And as I looked around I saw…there WERE signs everywhere.
I had just been so intent on it working
That I didn’t realize it was broken…

Does this ever happen to you in life?
You keep trying and trying and trying to make something happen,
Assuming the proverbial black and white printer of life is working,
Only to find that it’s broken,
And you just didn’t see the signs?
But, maybe, just maybe if you would’ve stopped. And really paid attention and not sought only your own needs, you’d see the magical color printer path that could’ve helped you all along?

After all,
We can’t live life in black and white.

Day 14 of 30: blood moon

Sometimes when I wake up
I have single lines of poetry dancing around in my head
As if I was writing a poem in my sleep
And I wake up remembering it
Today when I woke up
(Before I even knew there was going to be a lunar eclipse)
The line that was in my head was
“Moondrops in heaven”
And I woke up thinking
What is that?
Does rain fall from the moon into heaven? Does it even rain on the moon? And if it does..
When it rains on the moon, do raindrops become moondrops?
What are moondrops and why were they pouring down in my dream?
When moondrops fall to the earth, what grows?
Stars?
Possibility?
Seahorses? Tulips made of starlight? Magic?
What would happen if we tasted one moondrop as it dove from the sky
Would we transform into a fairy?
Or a luck dragon?
Or a Phoenix?
I guess the only way for me to find out is to go back to sleep and let the moon rain on me.

Day 13 of 30: forgotten scars

I’ve got this scar on my right knuckle
And for the life of me
I cannot remember what I got it from
Can’t recall the story behind the scar
At one point
It must’ve hurt
Must’ve bled
And been deep enough to scar the way it did
But I have no recollection of how it got there
It’s simply a part of me now
The pain is gone
And all that remains is this mysterious mark
From a battle that I don’t remember fighting
What if all our past pain could become like this little forgotten scar
A part of us
But so tiny
We can’t even remember how it got there
Just that it healed
And we’re stronger because of it
Wouldn’t that be lovely?
No more pain.
Just healed, strong, thick skin.

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