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I died.

Swam in the depths of deep soulful love, then I plunged into the darkness of my soul.

My voice a few years ago was different than it is now.

Younger.

More hopeful and believing in life , love.

Now I have been through the fire, of love, passion, and a soulful death.

I am resurrecting my words…

And myself.

Check out my latest article on Elephant Journal to read more about

A Letter to My Broken Heart….

https://www.elephantjournal.com/2021/08/a-love-letter-to-my-broken-heart-stephanie-parry/

Photo by freestocks.org on Pexels.com

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It feels weird to add the words “published” in front of my author name.

I figured that it would never happen … or perhaps after I died?

Most writers write for one main reason… so that they won’t be forgotten.

Perhaps the question should be… why do we want to be remembered?

Here are all my published articles and poems at Elephant Journal… The Published Works !!

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So it’s true.

I have been having a love affair.

I am not exactly sure when or how it started.

But, I can’t leave and I can’t stay.

This love both tears me apart and calms me all at the same time.

I am in love with the moon. 

You can read my latest published piece about the moon, Madness and the Moon , at Elephant Journal!

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What is this fire that roars in my ears? This burning, excitement, crazy-eyed, wild, hold that life has on me? What is it that haunts me and causes me to hold my breath at the wonder? How many times do I have to close my eyes to feel the rush of wind on my face, bringing me back into the presence of the here and now? Why do I jump in and feel, not looking back, knowing that with every step, I am closer to the reality of what I long for, yet never quite reaching it? How far must I go to fulfill the expansive mind that will not quiet itself? How long will I hold my own torch in my hands, the light illuminating the pathway to the top of the hill which I seek?

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Heart Hurt

Has your heart ever hurt so that your blood was heavy lead and every torturous step made you wonder how you managed to walk normally before?

That the sound of a laugh made your insides crawl and you could feel yourself screaming inside your mind?

That the very thought of eating food made the juices in your intestines churn until you felt relief would only be found bent over a toilet bowl?

That your heart burned so hot, you longed to rip it out of your chest to relieve your agony?

That you wished you could run away from the pain, yet you could hardly move out of your bed?

That with each step you longed for the floor to open so you could fall through?

That each memory you tried to block came crashing into your mind at once, like flashes of lightening- causing your head to throb and your eyes to leak in torrents, forming puddles on the pages in front of you.

Has your heart ever hurt this much?

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On Being Me

I live in a world where my breath is always taken away, beauty and meaning in everything around me, utterly in love with the perfection I see in every person in my life. My heart is as deep as the ocean and I long to share another’s heart and thoughts, understanding their fears and hopes and loves. The way they speak, the way that their words are carefully chosen, the things that they do not say, how they turn their head in a particular direction or smirk or keep the tear from escaping their eye… And I desire to take their emotion into me and hold it and heal any wound that can not be seen with the naked eye, but only felt with my heart. And it is at once too much and not enough, crazy and sane, the push and pull of wanting to be apart of everything and retreat away into nothing. But the crude clock of appointments and deadlines and teachers and meetings and the daily faces in the hallway, familiar though unknown, reminds me that the whole unexplored world seems merely plastic and fake. Such is the cruelty of reality.

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A Year Later…

In the past year, I have had some major life changes… separated and divorced after a 14 1/2 year marriage, resigned from the mormon church, moved into a place of my own, entered the work force, started college again, and became a single mother for the first time to six children.

I am not the same person I was then and here are a few things I have learned…

I learned that I can love so much that it can break my heart into a thousand pieces.

I learned that even if that love is not returned, I can still live without regret, knowing that I gave my all.

I learned that love hurts and tears and breaks you down into nothingness… and that if the love is real, it will hold you up when you are feeling down… it will give you a safe place to land when life gets you down.

I learned that there is no one perfect person for you, just that person staring back at you from the mirror.

I learned that the cracks in my heart can not be repaired by anyone else, that even a loving, burning touch, a crooked smile, a knowing look in someone’s eyes can not put back together any broken pieces of my heart… but all of these things have helped pull me up, for love truly heals.

I learned that sometimes I just want to be held, and there is nothing wrong with that… that it’s ok to need someone sometimes, to want to be told that everything is going to be alright.

I learned that sometimes being alone is just as awful as I feared.

I learned that sometimes being alone is just as wonderful as I feared.

I learned that the meeting of minds can be as stimulating and filling as the most passionate lovemaking session, to have someone ‘know’ you is to have my soul lit on fire.

I learned that the only person who will ever truly understand and be there for me, during my darkest night, is myself… that I can not rely on anyone else but myself to save me, to hold me up, and to put me back together.

I learned that sex and love are not substitutes for each other, but that sometimes they mesh together beautifully into a perfect dance.

I learned that when I am in my darkest hours, I will know who my real friends are.

I learned that seeing the smile of someone I love, all the way up to their eyes, will often get me through the hard times… knowing that I can bring a little joy to someone’s life.

I learned that nothing good or beautiful lasts…. that tomorrow it is gone… for tomorrow we all die… and that the more I live in my tomorrow, the more regret and pain I find along the way.

I learned that when I need time alone, I need to answer that call… that I need to fill my own cup before I can help anyone else.

I learned that my capacity to love is strong… sometimes overwhelming… that I will most likely be alone throughout my life, with the heart of a gypsy… if I am lucky enough to have a few lovers while I am here, I will consider this a true gift. I am grateful for the gift I have of any love that comes my way and fills my day, whether it is for an hour, a day, or a few years… I will be a better person for having loved and been loved. For where I invest my love is my life.

I learned that every person I meet, for good or ill, has something to teach me… if I am willing to listen, to hear, and to look honestly at myself… which is always scary.

I learned that I need to be more gentle with myself. I fuck things up all the time. I am a work in progress, and sometimes I feel crazy and don’t make any sense to my own self. It’s ok to cut myself some slack once in awhile. It doesn’t help me or anyone else to hold myself to higher standards than everyone else.

I learned that it’s alright to change… that I will never go back to the person I was and to do so would only bring me heartache.

I learned that I have something to say… that I can transfer my feelings to paper through words… and that by holding back, I am not truly using my gift.

I learned that my home can be wherever my heart is… that I can live anywhere and in any place, but where I belong is where my heart longs for.

I learned that if I drown my feelings and stuff them down, that I become numb and hardened… this protects my heart, this keeps me from breaking… but if I don’t take the chance to break, to open up, then I will never feel true joy… if I am angry, it is alright to scream and cry. If I am sad, it is alright for me to be sad. If I am happy, I can laugh and smile and sing and let it bubble out. If I am frustrated, I can walk or run or listen to music until my frustration gets out. If I am bored or alone, I can reach into my mind and create and write. If I am feeling pain or sorrow, I can curl up into the fetal position and let myself cry. I am learning to reach out and ask for a hug from someone who cares for me. If I am scared, I can walk into my fear and face it… and not shy away from it so that my fear can be conquered. If someone I love is sad or depressed, it is alright to reach out and offer my arms and my ear… for in sharing their pain, I help them and myself to not feel so alone.

I learned that sometimes music is the only way that I can communicate how I feel… when there are no longer any more words from my mind… that only the feelings can come out through someone else’s words until I can find my own again.

I learned that I worship nature… the ocean, the beach, the way that the waves continue to kiss the shore over and over again, that the moon and the sun and stars are the only sky gods that I care to look to for guidance, that a dark night can bring more peace to my soul than any religious building… that my children’s smiles and hugs, music, making love, a soft touch, a connection, a delicious meal shared with friends, dancing with abandon, the smell of a baby’s head, being witness to a birth and death… this is my religion… my worship…my life.

I learned that there no sins… no mistakes… just lessons to learn… every person that comes into my life is an opportunity for me to learn something…  whether they are apart of my life for one day or many years.

I learned that my children are my heart… not puppets to shape and mold into what I want… but that they are little people growing and learning and loving just like me… and I am a better person for having them in my life, blessed to know and love them.

I learned that the more I protect, the more I harden myself from hurt and pain, the less joy and love I bring to myself… that pain is inevitable, but it helps crack me open so that I can love even more again… for pain is our teacher, and as much as it hurts, it is better to love than to feel nothing at all.

I learned that someday when I am gone from this earth, I want every person I have ever loved to never question how important they are to me… that they will always know…that I will not be forgotten.

I learned that most people will not understand me, no matter how much I try to share… that even if I find a glimpse of understanding in someone’s smile, touch, laugh, or connection I am lucky beyond belief… for to be known and understood, even for a moment, fills my soul in a way that most things can’t.

I learned that just when I have finally understood something, then everything changes again… for what I have learned most of all is that there is so much more I have yet to learn…

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Inspiration… no words needed.

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On Coffee Shops and Connections 

 

An old man drawing at the table, deep in concentration. A youngish, 20 something,

tattooed woman smiling as she texts her lover.  A business man chatting on his headset

while surfing the web. A middle-aged professional woman eating her breakfast and

typing furiously on her laptop,  cigarette in hand.  High school and college students

studying and drinking their iced teas and frappuccinos. A group of young mothers

chatting in their work out clothes while their young ones run free at their feet. A couple

on a first date, tentatively sipping their coffees and making eye contact, observing one

another. And me… sitting quietly with my headphones on, listening to my

music, studying these people, and writing while I drink my green tea and ice water.

Where are we all congregating? Where else but at the intimate Coffee Rush?

Coffee Rush provides not just healthier, organic, and better drinks, but an

atmosphere that surpasses Starbucks {I do frequent Starbucks too, but only when

I need internet connection and can’t get to my beloved Coffee Rush. Shhhhh}

 

 

Having been a student of coffee shop behavior for a relatively short time, I have found

something interesting. Amazing human connections seem to take place here.  It is here

that I have witnessed group business meetings, political activist events, intimate chats,

support group meetings, solitary writing moments, and awkward and amazing dates. I

have met people who would change my life profoundly in such a casual and informal

setting.

 

My favorite Coffee Rush overlooks a small lake. At night, you can sit and stare at the

water, the lights from the neighboring condos and restaurants casting a mesmerizing

glow that keeps my attention for hours. The hustle and bustle of people coming

and going, and the music playing overhead, with water misting around us, keeps us

cool from the desert heat.

 

 

It is here that I have met interesting people from all walks of life like the tall and

successful engineer chatting me up about college plans and attempting to recruit my

engineer friends. I once discovered a group of young college boys hitting on me who ran

for the exit once they realized my age and how many children I have. There is a

sweet middle-aged woman who frequents Coffee Rush every week, meeting and

chatting with other regulars. She watches my laptop and purse whenever I need a

bathroom break.

 

 

A dark haired, dark eyed, smiling barista seems to always be working on the days I

arrive. We have a playful banter between the two of us and he knows the

drink I love… a mix of chocolate and vanilla iced chai tea with almond

milk. Whenever I am feeling adventurous,  I allow him to surprise me with something I

haven’t tried before. So far, I haven’t been disappointed yet, with the drinks or the

company.

 

I love to take the time to ‘people watch’ while I sit there by the water front, wondering at

the private lives of those around me. I can’t help but speculate about

the woman typing on her laptop. Will she be the next famous author? Will the couple

on the first date fall in love? Will the old man drawing at the table create a masterpiece?

Will the business man close a multi-million dollar deal? Will the college kids really get

any studying done?  Will the barista and I sit and talk over coffee again

after his shift is over?

 

My time spent here is never wasted. Like Harriet the Spy, I often jot down my own

ideas and thoughts about the lives of these coffee shop connections. This place is a well

of water for my thirsty writing soul. For what none of these people seem to realize is

that they are providing me with endless ideas for new stories.

 

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“Between the Lines”

by Jodi Piccoult

    Ok, I admit it. I love Jodi Piccoult. Her realistic fiction always makes me cry and laugh out loud. But more importantly, the issues she tackles in her stories usually cause me to pause and think about life in a  different way, opening my mind to questions and ideas that I hadn’t considered. I often find myself awake at night long after I have closed her books, feeling my brain on fire with possibilities and questioning my own beliefs.

    When I learned that she was writing a fiction novel with her daughter, I had to have this book as soon as possible. My own daughter spends more time than I ever did at her age writing until she can write no more. She will likely be published before I am, and I could not be more proud of that. It was so much fun to read this book together, knowing that Jodi and her teenage daughter sat side by side writing it together. Long after we closed the book, we sat and dreamt up our own stories we could create together.

     “Between the Lines” is a fiction story of a girl named Delilah who is somewhat of a loner. She has few friends and would rather spend all her time reading. Right away, I like this girl. She reminds me of myself and my own daughter. She begins to read an unconventional fairy tale. The characters within the story are real people and the main character, Oliver, longs for freedom and love. He begins talking to Delilah between the lines of the story and she falls in love with him. It is Delilah’s job to help him obtain that freedom as she becomes a part of the story itself.

     Although this book is written for a YA audience and does not deal with the same heavy subjects that Piccoult’s other fiction stories explore, it was an intense and fun experience and easy to read in one sitting.