Friday, May 25, 2012

Trusting your Instincts

Sometimes you just know.  Who knows how or why you know - you just do.  Yet all of our polite, well intentioned social upbringing seems to teach us the very antithesis of the old adage "trust your instincts".  I was walking around downtown Indianapolis today and a woman walking nearby caught my eye, primarily becuase she was not really walking, more like staggering about.  It was a warm, beautiful blue-sky spring day, and she was wearing a black backless halter dress with an odd pair of souped up track sneakers.  She stopped every so often to check herself out in the glass reflections of the street level windows in the large downtown skyscrapers. During one of her Narcissus chats with her beloved reflection, I sauntered by her, keeping my steady amicable pace on a rare and gorgeous day that did not call for rushing anywhere.  At the next corner, waiting for the street light and the infamous green hand signal, she made eye contact with her head slightly bowed and politely inquired if I could help her and her kids get something to eat.  Somehow, I did not believe she had any kids, nor that she really needed something to eat.  So I declined, equally as polie, referring to a lack of cash in the wallet at the present time.  I flat out lied - told her I was on credit for the time being.  She thanked me and ambled along not far behind me as we crossed and made our way around the circle surrounding a large public monument.  The welcoming spring weather brought everyone outside, so it was merely seconds before she found her next victim, and I could barely make out the sound of her voice in the background as I heard her ask a business suit for some lunch money.  I did not linger to discover her success or failure, but made my way as planned to Starbucks for my "fix" du jour.

Standing inside at the SB counter and waiting for highly customized beverage, I began to feel guilty.  Here I was traveling on business about to enjoy my favorite beverage on someone else's dime, and I could not even spare her the couresty of checking the spare change in my wallet?  I thought about turning back, quickly, to find her and give her at least a dollar.  But my addiction prevailed and I waited for my cup of happiness.  Inwardly, I chastised myself a little and agreed that the next needy person who asked for my help, I would be more open to. I am blessed, after all, and have a responsibility to share my blessings with my less fortunate brothers and sisters on this lonely planet.

I sat outside on the steps of the public monument, sipping away and making phone calls till I ensured the beverage was good to the last drop.  As I made my way around the sqauare, heading back toward the hotel and seeking a nice spot for a late lunch, I caught side of her glamorous sneakers and turned with the idea of making amends.  As I approaded her nodded head, I realized she was working on something.  On closer inspection, her efforts revealed themselves in the clear blue light of day. She was scratching off LOTTO tickets with a long fingernail. Obviously, someone else had bought into her story about children and her fragile plea for lunch money.  I laughted at my own foolishness and couldn't help but think "Trust your instincts".

How often do I go through life ignoring that little voice inside and accusing it of being stingy or closed or lacking in altruism?  The inner judge is often harsh, but luckily she's a bit slower than my initial impulses.  How I envy people who trust their instincts?  I wonder how often I have kicked myself for not doing this or that, when all along it was for the BEST that this or that not be done.  I suppose hindsight is 20/20, but it's the forward sight that appeals to me.  Sometimes you just know.  And when you know, you know.  So why balk or doubt yourself or refuse to trust?

This little episode got me thinking about trust, in all its weighty implications.  I am proud to say that I have trusted a time or two.  And will trust again.  Now, if only I could find the weight within me to extend that same precious gift to myself...


a high dive spring board of Olympic proportion
free falls to the deep end;
the pool of sound that is my voice.
ripples resonate upward toward your ears
echoes of your Grace
pierce the aqua filter to my core
synchronized hiding in slow motion fades
reverse tucked pike
I break the surface of Awareness
a glowing ring of honesty you perspire
you smile into the eyes of my five year old
in that instant, I am alive.

the giant of your Soul swallows my bean stalk whole
leaving me tiny, grounded, ill-prepared
you make friends with the little girl inside
sliding down my esophagus with every gentle glance
lapping up the love within my ribs
breathing in unison, We stare
there's room for both of us inside your rejection of before
a wonderland of Joy that you call now,
without knowing why or how or when I jumped
the trampoline of your broad shoulders grinned
and caught Me.
I blink and think
and do not dare to close my eyes
I trust You
standing naked in your sight.

©2012 DOS

The excerpts of all of the poems presented in this blog are copyright protected, as each and every poem has been copyrighted.   For a complete copy of any poem, feel free to email your request to:

Thursday, May 17, 2012


I hate people who are entitled. People who think others should accommodate THEM!  Who are they?  And why should I be socially acceptable and “nice” to accommodate them when they were irresponsible to begin with?  For example… I hate people who come to the movies LATE and then expect other people to shift or move or reposition stuff to make room for them.  Why should we?  Today, I went to the movies.  I always arrive early, so that I have time to make my selection and choose the best seat for me and my preferences.  As other people sat around me, I ended up with one free seat on either side of me.  The theatre started to fill up and naturally, long after previews had started and literally moments before the actual film began, a couple showed up and wanted me to politely move and reposition my hand bag, jacket, phone, self, etc so that they could sit together.  Of course, one is socially obligated to get up and move but it just annoys me!  Why are they entitled to sit together if they arrive late?  Why do I have to move myself and my stuff simply because I am solo?  I couldn’t resist. I grumbled at them that if they wanted their selection of seats, they should arrive BEFORE the movie starts!!

Not particularly graceful, I know.  And honestly, I am ashamed of myself for being so perturbed by it.  But it is very annoying to me.  And then… naturally, they both got up, at different times, to go to the bathroom (or whatever) in the middle of the film, disturbing everyone as they walk across the theatre in front of the screen.  Not the kind of people I feel like being nice to!

And then, I get subjected to a Hollywood version of romance, where the boy and girl do everything BUT come together, until the last possible minute. Their friends are all married with small booming families and finally they come together too.  Because, naturally, life always works out that way.  Two beautiful people end up having a beautiful life together. Oh how very sweet!  Such B.S.!!  And believe it or not, I cried.  I cried for her when he rejected her.  I cried for him when he finally figured out she was “the one”. I cried for all the millions of people who never figure that out. I cried for the many more millions who cannot seem to find a him or a her.  (Did I mention that the annoying entitled young latecomers to my immediate right were a couple??  A romantic, kissy-face, hand-holding, happy couple???  Grrrrr)

How is it that happy things begin to make us sad when they happen for other people?  I’ve never been the jealous type, but lately, I find myself thinking things like “why not me”, instead of “good for her” or “oh, I am so happy for you”.  Luckily, I am not the only one.  A very dear friend confessed to having similar sentiments over tea the other day.  Both she and I are generally very generous, kind, positive souls. When did we become bitter or empty enough to see our own lack in someone else’s fulfillment?  I hate it whenever I think or feel that way.  Thankfully, it isn’t often.  But how shameful it is!  I am stuck on a recurring refrain of  “glass half empty”.  In truth, my glass is not only FULL but overflowing. I live a charmed life.  True, I cannot seem to attract a single, available, age-appropriate man in the same time zone, but so what?  I love my life. Why do I let Hollywood or society or other people make me feel inadequate?  Just because I don’t have a life partner?  Because I go to the movies alone? Because I am comfortable in my own skin and not needy or reliant on someone else?

It all just makes me mad today.  Why I even bother going to romantic movies is a mystery.  Of course, the theatre will be filled with couples!  Of course, it’s a great “date” experience! Of course, it will highlight my solo-ness.  Naturally, it will elevate any sense of loneliness I feel.  Why am I surprised?  To be so close to romance, with couples on either side of me and four couples on the oversized screen in front of me, just made me feel how very far away I am from any real proximity of love. Or union. Or togetherness.  It’s all about longing.  Desire.  Some vague feeling of emptiness… Not a sickness, just a symptom.  Why can I not believe that I am “enough” – just me, just exactly as I am?

The space between my sighs
is yours
to fill
to munch
to claw
gather, grind,
then gingerly release.

The curve of my waist
is arching
lurching forward
towards a dance
with the comforting crook
of your left arm.

The silence of my toes
is beckoning
searching for your rhythm
hunting for your laughter
a whisper for the music you make
which taps me to an alternate time
where All
at once
The hollow spot
in my biggest bed
is empty
near the back of my knees
the small of my spine
the Y of my legs
so restless
‘neath the ample sheets.
(the poem continues but you get the idea… it ends with...)
How much more
could my world become
if you chose
to be
nearer than near
to me?
©2012 DOS

The excerpts of all of the poems presented in this blog are copyright protected, as each and every poem has been copyrighted.   For a complete copy of any poem, feel free to email your request to: