Driving through Mexico, I’ve crossed a lot of small bridges. Each bridge or “puente” has a sign with its name. Puente Santa Maria. Puente de Oro. Puente Lo Que Sea. 

And then there was: “Puente Sin Nombre.” Bridge Without a Name. 

First of all, hilarious. Why? What was it about this bridge that made them decide, no, we’re not even going to try. But also…calling it “no name” is a name.

Aaanyway. It also hit something deeper.

My whole life right now feels like a bridge without a name. I am on the road, moving my entire life from LA to Mexico. Building a bridge between two distinct chapters. A bridge between who I was and who I will be. A bridge between the past and the future. A bridge between what I know and what I don’t. 

We are ALL, ALWAYS in transition. We’re ALL, ALWAYS between where we’ve been and where we’re going. 

We are all always moving into the unknown.

This particular transition has tested me down to the rawest nub of bone and taken everything I have.

But on faith, I am crossing this bridge with no name. I am driving 5 hours a day at 130 kilometers per hour toward whatever is on the other side. And trusting the destination. 

We don’t know what’s on the other side of the bridges we cross, the thresholds we pass through, and the decisions we make. We never really know what the bridge should be called until we fully understand where it brought us.

Puente sin nombre,

bridge with no name,

I am trusting you with all my weight,

to carry me somewhere 

I’ve never been.

Puente sin nombre,

bridge with no name,

I got on on one side

but can’t be sure what’s around the bend.

I know what’s already been under my feet.

I know the person I’ve been.

I thought I was taking her with me,

but every mile strips another layer.

Underneath,

is someone I’ve never met.

Puente sin nombre,

bridge with no name,

take me.

Take me where I cannot know,

I cannot plan, 

I cannot predict.

You’re the only one that knows the truth.

I won’t know until I get where I’m going.

I won’t know until I look back

and you’re nowhere to be seen.

Yesterday was the new moon. This is the phase when the moon is completely in shadow, invisible from Earth. So it’s darker out, which means a time for going inward and letting the inner voice speak.

I love noticing nature’s rhythms. It’s freeing to let go of my agenda and lean into this larger force.

So I did a little ceremony to invite in the energy of the new moon. First, I prepared my space. I turned off most of the lights and lit candles. I put this song on repeat. I tidied up anything that caught my attention. I got myself a glass of water. I made a little altar. A quartz crystal (representing air), a candle (fire), an abalone shell (water) and a lemon (earth).

Curating the environment gave me time to ease in and go deeper. (Like setting context before sharing a poem.)

I did all of this prep, not knowing what would happen. I didn’t set out to write a poem. I just got in the zone, and trusted. Sometimes, I get nervous without a plan or a structure. Okay. That’s there. But I just leaned in - that’s the essence of the new moon. And this came out. And it felt really good.

savor this frequency

the space between

being

hearts silent

connected

retrain my diaphragm

to breathe smooth 

to hold steady

when it wants to slip away

to sip slowly

when it wants to grasp for air

the other muscles

iron out their nervous wrinkles

clear

the darkness

lights a new path

hovering over the old

free to make a different choice

can it be easier?

can I let myself be led

by a softer voice?

one that can’t be heard over the din

of traffic

or reality tv

one that can’t compete

with jagged self-doubt

finer than the comb of “what should I do?”

grander than what’s possible to understand

sometimes

the curtain just opens

and the nakedness of now is center stage

every other voice falls away

nothingness

embrace

This week, I dove DEEP into my mind. I wrestled and wriggled and fought with myself. I straddled extremes and struggled to land in the middle. A symptom of this condition, I wrote two things. One - a gentler take. A description of the place I want to be, instead of the mind cavern I’ve been wandering through. The other - the cavern itself. The harsher environment and what it feels like to be there. I flip-flopped back and forth, a little of this, a little of that, unsure which was IT. That paralyzing uncertainty is all too familiar, so I’m choosing the third way. Here are both, co-existing.

Something Softer

I want something softer.

Something softer

than sticking my hand in the sharps bin of my mind.

Something easier

than wading through thoughts lined with booby traps and black holes.

I want to bathe in warm sand. 

Curves cradled, floating

in an ocean of shifting dunes.

Wearing each tiny grain like a stand-alone diamond.

Touching twinkling stars in a sky of smooth skin.

Lying peacefully under the blanket of the setting sun 

that falls and rises each day like slow, even breath.

Trusting the sky to stay open and the ground to stay firm,

I can rest.

The magic of nature’s wiser hand

carries me beyond my wildest dreams

and through my willful-est worries. 

There’s something about being humbled

that makes me feel safe. 

A cosmic smirk woven into every thread.

A pattern I don’t understand,

but must have a place in.

The Part of Me That Wants to Hurt

There’s a part of me that wants to hurt, that insists on it. It’s not as loud as it used to be. It’s not as much of me as it used to be. Usually, it’s not even there. But when it’s there, it reminds me of when it was all of me. When I was drowning in the fog. When I would lay down and pray to be taken, somewhere quiet.

Relief. I craved reprieve from an inside world that didn’t relent. It cast its shadow on the outside world, too. Every interaction threatened to confirm my worst suspicions. The walls closed in around my smallest parts.

Escape. I wanted to be anywhere other than where I was. But I couldn’t leave my body, so I shut the windows and boarded the doors. Might as well be swallowed into darkness. 

I visit this boarded up house from time to time. My nails remember scratching at the walls. My voice knows pleading to no one to let me out. If I stay for too long, I can feel the shrinking. My options narrow to two: explode into chaos or delete my existence. There is nothing between. There is no right amount of space to take up. It’s all, or none. There is no some. Some is too fragile. Some is too scary. Some doesn’t compute. And yet, life is lived in the some. Life hurts some. My body gets tired some. My mind slows down some. People move closer, and further away. And on it goes. No final rest. No perfect solution. The part of me that wants to hurt wants self-destruction, if it can’t have self-transcendence. Just being my self seems impossible.

I often find myself 

bouncing from track to track,

never letting the train take me.

Hovering over the controls, 

unsure which knob to turn.

The choice I don’t realize I’m making 

is to stay above ground.

To avoid digging in 

and getting my hands dirty.

I want to be covered in mud.

But not here. And not like this.

Someday.

For now, I’ll keep carrying this shovel, 

in search of just the right spot,

wondering what it would feel like

to move Earth.

To give birth

to raw pursuit.

Who would I be on the other side?

What has to die

for Life to find its way through me?

There’s freedom in joining the tide.

You can rest your head

cuz your Soul 

is rooted.

Control is fruitless,

It steals your Juice-ness.

So close your eyes and take a bite. 

We’re here 

to be 

ALIVE.

Even writing this, I found myself caught between possibilities. Trying to imagine which word would land with an imaginary reader. Just up in my own head with ghosts. Truth is, I have NO IDEA. And no amount of grinding my gears will make me know. There are times when careful planning and minding the details are essential. But many more times, I’m driving myself crazy, pouring out energy, wrestling with the 2%, thinking it’s going to make or break the other 98. The pursuit of perfection leaves us burnt out and discouraged. Sometimes, we need a break. Sometimes, we need to let time offer perspective. Sometimes, we need to just decide it’s done and move on. But it’s easy to flail around in the frustration loop. It seems like complete satisfaction is just one forceful brain-rack out of reach. That’s exactly when it’s time to put it down, stand up, and be done. Maybe for now. Maybe for ever. I feel it right now as I type. I’m tired. My brain hurts. But the mystical Perfect Blog Post is just one sentence away! Nah.