Every Saturday morning I take an urban hike around my neighborhood winding through side streets, past parks–still quiet and sleepy, around corners, over uneven sidewalks, through sprinklers casting rainbows on concrete, and up and over this giant hill.

Ugh, that hill.

It is my nemesis. Looming. Leering at me with it’s steepness. Challenging me to just try and overcome it without breaking a sweat; without heaving wheezing and gasping breaths; without wanting to give up and take the flat loop instead.

But I do it. I drag myself up and over that stupid hill if for no other reason than to prove to myself that I can…and to shut up the jeers and taunts I imagine coming from that haughty hill.

It is a perfect metaphor.
I cannot overcome it in one giant leap, or by sheer positive thought.
Nope.
It is only by the most ancient and primitive of methods: simply placing one foot in front of the other. And continuing to do so all the way to the summit and down the other side.

It has a given name, this hill around the corner. But I think I shall call it Crucible Hill or Epiphany Way for it seems that each time I take it on, a little more refining happens; a little more insight rises up.

As I made my way up that hill the other day, imagining my soul pulling hand-over-hand toward that summit as if my very life depended upon it, I had this thought:

Being enough does not come from being polished, without blemish, or free from any impurity.
I am already enough.
I am enough because I have chosen to walk this path, to be in process, to ask questions, to seek truth, to fight for healing, to endure the dissonance, to look within myself, to face my fears, to wrestle my demons, to chose hope, to be genuine.

And then I wept.
Right there on the sidewalk in front of God and everybody. And I didn’t care what the neighbors, or the mailman, or the dog in that front yard thought of me.
I just had an epiphany!
One of those deep down from the utter core of my soul kind of epiphanies. One of those loose these chains, let freedom ring, I’m bursting with joy, kind of epiphanies.

I wept with love and compassion and admiration for myself.

And as I wept and walked I saw the flowers were my cheerleaders; I could almost hear them shouting and laughing and hooting for my victory. As their happy vibrant faces urged me on another step, I lost track of which was getting the more vigorous workout: my body or my soul.

I realized these cheerful companions were also my mentors. I saw them blooming with all their might without regard for wrought-iron gates that might keep them in, for they spilled out every opening available. They flourished without concern for concrete slabs that might want to crush them—they found what cracks and crevices out which to push and blossom. They let fly their sweet aroma opening to bees and hummingbird never giving a second thought to the competing stench of exhaust and smog.

What wise little wonders these flowers be! Though all may be dead and thorny ‘round them, still they bloom with vibrant, iridescent hues. And they do so because that is what they were made to do!

I turned my face toward the sun soaking up her warm golden light. I stretched out my arms to let the vastness of the sky expand my soul and my heart and my mind to drink in all this truth with thirsty, unashamed gulps. I breathed in deeply the aroma of healing filling my lungs to capacity.

So,
Thank you stupid hill!
Thank you my little fairy-like flower friends!
Thank you Hope.
Thank you Courage.
Thank you Love.
Thank you Truth.

“…Out of the quarrel with ourselves, we make poetry…” ~W.B.Yeats

We spoke about the difference
between
pain
and
suffering
we agreed how
pain is part of the natural order
it is inevitable
it is a given
but suffering,
that is a human construct
it is unnecessary
it is a result of a choice
along with it comes
injustice
and
violation

I agreed
and I understood
but it also made me angry when
you spoke about how we often
perpetuate our pain
turning it into suffering
by our thoughts—
the way our thoughts torture our minds
the way we torture ourselves
with our thoughts
with doubts
with lies
with disappointment
with denial
with what if
with “Why?”

it made me angry
because
I didn’t want to be culpable for any part of my pain
I wanted to tune out
that part of the conversation
forget it was said

but the truth kept
echoing ‘round the
canyons of my mind
all night
all day
without relenting

I thought about
what rivers of sorrow had carved out those canyons
what wild rapids of rage
had torn away at stone with fury and anguish
I thought about
what storms had eroded the terrain of my soul and
what wind had whipped jagged edges
into silky smooth polished stone

I thought about still waters
about their well-spring
about the depth to which my being plunges
and the riches and treasure that lie therein

I began to think about
the keys I hold
that might unlock these shackles
that might loose these chains
that might release these weights
I didn’t want to think
they were mine all along
that I could have been free long ago

But then again,
maybe it is because I have been searching
that I have even found them in my possession
maybe it could only be through such thorough cleaning
that such a discovery could be made

So once again
I shift my attention to
what it is that I do have–
and sometimes it takes the
reflection of a trustworthy confidant
to be reminded of all that I possess

I thought about forgiveness
and how I’ve been holding on tight
I see how I’ve wanted to
stay angry and hurt
thinking somehow
that these wounds define me and
fearing who I might be
if they were healed and forgotten
And I held on to not forgiving
because I didn’t want to feel
that I’d let them off the hook
because
I wanted to see justice
I wanted them to be humbled
but I will braid silver locks with gnarled knuckles
before I bear witness to these wishes
and I fear I would be overcome with the
cancer of resentment and disappointment
were I to hold out such hopes
And I have far too much to be and to do
to succumb my soul to being riddled with
such a deadly disease

So I thought again about forgiveness
about relinquishing my rights
to anger and to disappointment
I thought about letting go
of promises not kept and
expectations not met
I thought about
releasing my regret over
things lost
things never had
things stolen

I want to be done with this pain
to dance and laugh without the joints of my soul groaning and creaking
I want to bid farewell to this grief
to welcome Joy with warm embrace letting her light flood every dark corner
I want to crawl out from under this weight of sorrow
to be the me that is intended without any hindrance of undesired baggage
I want to be the
remarkable,
compassionate,
witty,
sensual,
adventurous,
playful,
authentic,
hope-driven,
woman I am
and I want to do so
with resilient abandon!

And I thought about redemption as
I sat listening to a young girl talk
about those things most painful to utter
I think
about who I am to those around me and
about the person I have the
privilege to be in the lives of my nieces
about the opportunities I have
from this point forward
to make different choices
and how I’ve already begun
to live
to heal
to grow
to change in ways former generations never dared
I think about that line I drew in the sand
as a little girl swearing to a God I desperately hoped was listening
that the cycle stops here
the pain ends with me
the tradition is broken
I will not step into those shoes
and will not walk in those footsteps

Oh I weep with joy for that brave girl who has grown
into a courageous woman willing to stand and face her demons
running full on into battle
in the name of
truth
and
wholeness
and
hope
and I am thankful
I am that kind of woman
that I listen for that still small voice
that I look for the barely perceivable
that I reach out in hopes of feeling even the faintest vibrations
of what is true
what is real
what is pure

this is truth
right now in this moment
the clouds have parted and I see the vast night sky with
all of it’s infinite stars and galaxies and moons and planets
for a moment I glimpse this truth with
the clarity of a thousand lenses with
the certainty of my own sight with
the confidence of my own touch

I document my story
with all of it’s triumphs and defeats
to remind myself that
I
am human
that my being swells and diminishes
with the ebb and flow of what it means to be human:
to falter…to reach out
to forget…to be reminded
to stumble…to take the hand offered
to wander off…to be found
for I am not in this fight alone
no matter how desolate the battlefield may seem
and while my fiercest strength lies within myself
it is ever renewed by the fellowship of those I hold dear

it is indeed epic, this business of being true
but I suppose I’d think it bland
to have it any other way.

Mark these words well, for
I will need gentle reminders down the path
ere I wander into forest dark
or too close to canyon’s edge as I make way
for those waters still.

**This piece is an excerpt I wrote as part of a conversation and correspondence with a dear friend. I have decided to share it with the world because I do believe that, “the story of one of us, is in some way, the story of all of us.”

See?  I told you!

Key Lime Pie.

Just saying the words makes my mouth water for that cold, creamy, citrus, cloud-like deliciousness resting on a perfect graham crust.  *lost in dreamy euphoria, wipes drool off chin and looks around self-consciously…

Oh, hello, yes I’m here.  I was just–never mind.  So the pie.

I got this recipe from a sweet friend of mine and I have loved it from the first bite my fork graciously delivered to my taste buds.  It took me a long time to come around to trying this kind of a dessert.  In my mind desserts like Key Lime Pie and Carrot Cake were all “grown-up desserts” not containing any shred of chocolate and thereby not worth sacrificing even one taste bud to try it.  I have no idea why my childhood mind decided that chocolate was for kids and grown-ups somehow grew out of that and into more “sophisticated” and “refined” tastes such as Key Lime.   Now on the other hand, Carrot Cake was a no-brainer.  I mean it’s a DESSERT that contains VEGETABLES.  Obviously this was some grown-up conspiracy because no kid in her right mind would ever be fooled into eating sweets that contained healthy stuff.  Blech.  Yuck.

Oh these?  They’re…well…um *wipes crumbs from her mouth…coughcarrotcakecough…totally no good.
Yeah, DOWN WITH CARROT CAKE, BOOOOOoooo!
*sneaks another mini cupcake…

So you were saying?  Oh *I* was telling you about Key Lime Pie.  Right.  Let’s get down to business!

Key Lime Pie:

Crust:

1 1/2c Graham crumbs
2 tbsp granulated sugar (or evaporated cane juice)
8 tbsp butter (1stick) melted
*Pre-heat oven to 375
*Combine ingredients in bowl
*Press into 8″ pie pan (I use a deep-dish stoneware, and double the recipe…heh…I like crust)
*Bake 5-8min until just golden
*Remove from oven and set on cooling rack while preparing filling
*Reduce oven’s heat to 325

Filling Part 1:
1, 14oz can Sweetened Condensed Milk
3 egg yolks (keep whites for Filling Part 2)
1/2c freshly squeezed Key Lime juice
2 tbsp fresh lemon juice
1 tbsp fresh lemon zest
*Whisk all ingredients together in large mixing bowl

Can’t you just smell the delightful aroma of fresh limes…*inhales deeply…Aaahhhhh!

Filling Part 2:
3 egg whites
1-2 tbsp granulated sugar (or evaporated cane juice)
*Whisk egg whites–adding sugar slowly–until firm peaks form
*Using an electric mixers is WAAAAAY easier…unless you want to buff up your forearms, then by all means, whisk away
*Gently fold whites into Part 1 mixture until all ingredients are incorporated
*Do not whisk or over mix so as to avoid de-fluffing your nice airy mixture
*Pour mixture into crust and bake at 325 for 15-20min
*Remove from oven and let cool on baking rack; chill in refrigerator 8hrs-overnight
**SUPER IMPORTANT NOTE ABOUT BAKING TIME** I just learned that pies like Key Lime and Cheesecake will crack during cooling if they have been overcooked   So, to avoid overcooking, note that your pie is ready to be removed from the oven when the edges are firm and the middle is slightly giggly, like pudding.
*Serve with freshly whipped cream and lime slices
*Mmmmm…and mmmmm…. and also mmmMMMMmmmm

Now, aren’t you glad you kept your fork?

I’d rather relish poetry at an open mic in the Valley than get drinks at a trendy bar;
I’d rather dance salsa y bachata in East LA than bump bodies in a downtown club;
I’d rather support mom & pop shops than sport a flashy label;
I’d rather make you a gift than purchase it;
I’d rather play a game than watch one;
I’d rather skip through a wild meadow than be given a bouquet of flowers;
I’d rather work up a sweat doing physical labor than pay for a gym membership;
I’d rather have a front porch than a back porch;
I’d rather stand among a few with integrity than among the masses with no vision;
I’d rather get lost in some enchanted village than keep to the tourist routes;
I’d rather run out and dance in the rain than stay indoors;
I’d rather go for an extra bike ride than turn down something delicious;
I’d rather get my hands dirty than keep a fine manicure;
I’d rather make it from scratch than buy it;
I’d rather look at local graffiti art than pay for a museum pass;
I’d rather be alone than in a broken relationship;
I’d rather meander down a forgotten path than take the paved highway;
I’d rather watch fresh artists beatbox and spit rhymes on an open mic than shell out dollars for sell-outs on iTunes;
I’d rather laugh at myself than pretend I’ve got it all together;
I’d rather share whatever I have to give than keep it for myself;
I’d rather roam around Home Depot than go to a mall;
I’d rather lay out under the stars and aurora borealis than watch TV;
I’d rather be wealthy in love, passion, community, dreams, and hope than be rich in material possessions.

I went out to greet the morning…

…and found that she had laid for me, a dew-studded carpet…

…She wore the sweet fragrance of lavender and orange-blossoms…

…intoxicating my senses as I meandered down a forgotten path.

I passed by a well-tended garden, fresh produce at the ready…

…and paused inside an enchanted glen to sit upon a mossy rock…
and there I met my oldest friends, Wonder and Awe…

I gazed upon the brightening Morn, clothed in spider’s silk and lilies…

…She kissed my face with sunlight and blessed my day with dew drops…
Oh how I delight in a country Morning!

This week I got a shocking, adrenaline-pumping, reality check about gardening.

One morning after I watered all the pots and the flower bed (which I now realize I have not ever mentioned before…so look for that post coming soon!) I saw a large pile of weeds had sprung up…almost overnight.  So I was happily tending my little piece of Eden humming a contented little tune when I reached under some foliage to get at the base of some of the weeds.

When I did the aforementioned deed, I felt something move then saw something slither-crawl away.  I let out a yelp that I tried to contain given the hour of the morning and my desire to not make enemies out of my neighbors.  I tentatively stepped back and away from my little secret garden–formerly known as paradise–never once turning my back on the *THING*!  I looked around to see if *IT* was still there so I could get a closer-yet-at-quite-a-good-distance-away look.  I ran inside to get my camera and snapped this:

Yeah...gross.

I won’t make the picture too big because its pretty nasty…and apparently some of my friends have been experiencing VRT (vicarious reptilian trauma)* as a result of my pictures; I’ll try to save you from that horror.

So all day I was a fluster with flash-backs to Fergison’s surprise appearance.  I was sad that my once blissful flowering haven had been marred by such a scaly nemesis.  I was also curious about what the heck the thing was.  I’m telling you, this was no cute little gecko or friendly little salamander.  Friends, this lizard-snake thing was at least 8 inches long with a very not cute face.  So I did some searching and found this site (**Warning** clicking on this link will take you to lots of pictures of reptiles; do not click on it if this will give you nightmares.  This Front Porch is not responsible for how your subconscious may torture you in your sleep state!) concluding that Fergison was an Alligator Lizard.

Awesome.

Totally made my day.

‘Cause Alligator Lizard makes it all sooOOOOoooo much better!

Well, I decided to name him Fergison.  I thought if I named him, I might be just a wee bit less likely to loathe him entirely.  He is after all just doing his lizard thing and I guess I could take it as a compliment that he chose my lush little garden nook to call his home…Yay *she said waving her mini-flag utterly without enthusiasm.

*VRT is not an actual phenomenon.

While I was driving home from work, I noticed something quite feathery on my windshield; I thought maybe a butterfly had gotten stuck on my wipers.  When I got home, I found this little bebe quivering all in a fright:

Seriously, I got all teary.  I mean nasty bugs on the windshield is one thing, but a teeny beautiful bird is something totally else.  I was parked on the street in full sun with a black car, so I wanted to get this little birdie out of the sun and off my baking hood.  She was super weak so I dashed inside and whipped up some sugar water.  I fed her droplets of sugar water off my finger and she started buzzing back to life!  Hallelujah!  Gently as I could I scooped her up and brought her over to the shade of my little secret garden nook where I often hear the delightful thrum of hummingbirds.  I continued to offer sugar water and the buzz of her wings became stronger and stronger!  Her tiny wisp of a tongue lapping up the sugar water tickled against my finger.  I was spell-bound with awe and wonder!

When she seemed to be making positive strides toward recovery, I went inside to quickly look up what to do with an injured wild bird.  I found several really helpful sites:

• Hummingbird Rescue Los Angeles: For hummingbird rescues in the Southern California area
• Southeastern Outdoors: General wildlife rescue directory; can search resource centers by state
• Project Wildlife: I found an article providing specific instructions for how to respond to a hummingbird needing rescue
• The Bird Rescue Center:  This resource has all kinds of helpful information including a reminder that it is against the law to keep any wild animal as a pet; if found, you should take said animal to a shelter or rescue center immediately
• Humane Society:  Look up your local Humane Society and find out if they can take rescued wildlife.

I made several calls to area hummingbird rescuers and got a call back from a helpful woman.  She said that she was hours away so the best thing would be to take her to my local Humane Society.  I called the local Humane Society and they confirmed that they accept wildlife rescues so I nestled sweet birdie in a hole-punctured shoe-box liked with tissues.  Throughout the car-ride to the Humane Society I heard her vibrant buzz and thrum of her wings giving me hope that she would survive.

I felt a certain joy and exhilaration having had such a close moment with one of my favorite little creatures; I mean, its not every day you get to hold something like this in your hands!

It was a divine little moment to be sure and I hope that she is healthy, strong, and buzzing about enjoying the fullness of spring.  Every time I hear the happy thrum of a hummingbird outside my window, I smile and hope it’s her

Italian herb-encrusted focaccia roll; vine ripe tomato; fresh mozzarella; own-yard basil

I’m certain little else needs to be said.

I think I could quite contentedly eat this every day of the summer

I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine, she is a wonderfully talented artist–both on and off the canvas!  I first encountered Kristy as an incredibly gifted and inspiring spoken word artist at one of the Open Mics I attend in East Los Angeles.  Since our first meeting, I’ve come to know and appreciate her visual artistry as well.  She is a woman full of relentless courage and vision who uses her abundant compassion and creativity to foster healing, transformation, and reconciliation in her community.  Here’s a little teaser from her bio:

Its All a Risk

My life has been defined by an innate tendency to take risks. As a child I was known for asking too many questions, touching things that weren’t meant to be touched, or taking things apart just to see how they worked. This air of inquisitive defiance was coupled with a natural creativity and I spent much of my time as a kid creating art, writing plays and poems, and building things. I grew up with my mother and sisters in the San Fernando Valley and the story of our struggle to survive is likened to that of many single-parent, working class families striving for their version of an American Dream. My dream always included art and creative writing and I was even able to envision myself as an art student, building a powerful career that would propel me out of financial instability and into the vast diversity of art, culture, and travel.

~Kristy Lovich

So check out her site and peruse her gallery; she has several prints and original pieces for sale–with more being added soon–at very reasonable prices. The proceeds from her art go to fund both her education and her vital work within the community.  Support grass roots artists and community efforts!  This is where the real change happens!

she found her dance once more!
and there
she found
a piece of her soul was healed
a piece of her self returned

her dance was there—it was always there—
in her heart,
but
she had lost it for a time
for a time there in the dark

she had trouble finding it
behind the pain
underneath the broken
in the midst of that dark night

but it was always there
and when she found it
and took it out
she wept

sweet tears of joy
then
bitter tears of sorrow—

tears
for all the dances
she never danced
tears
for all the poems
she never wrote
tears
for all dreams
she never brought to life

she grieved the loss
of these pieces of herself that never were…

and while she knew that
such captivating beauty
and
such exquisite being
were only born out of such dark night,
she weeps for what had to be lost—
weeps for what had to be forgotten
for what had to be broken
what had to be torn apart
had to be extinguished

lost,
so that
new rhythms might be danced
forgotten,
so that
new poems might be written
broken,
so that
new laughter might erupt
torn apart,
so that
new dreams might be woven
extinguished,
so that
new passion might ignite

and there she rejoiced
for that rhythm
for those words
for that joy
for those dreams
for that fire
that gave life to her soul once more

for she was made
to laugh
to dance
to thrive–
this was woven into the very
tapestry of her self as she was spun into being
inside that womb long ago

and so with courage as her rhythm
and with hope as her melody
she finds her dance once more!