a month since

Liza Fernandez

A month since my birthday.
The birth of this body, this time, this heart, this mind.
A time to celebrate.
A time to reflect.
A time for silliness.

Fingers, toes, legs, arms, all in place.
Skin taut and elastic (for now).
Heart wide open.
Mind even more expansive than yesterday.
Curiosity killed the cat, not quite yet.

Here’s to failing.
And failing again.
And failing one more time.

Here’s to celebrating.
And cheering.
And doing the Dance of Joy right now, this moment.
Now this.

Here’s to tears of all sorts.
To breakdowns and breaks in general.
Here’s to light and shadows and how they pirouette before us all.
Here’s to stillness.

I am grateful to be alive.
I am honored to be living during this time.
I am embracing the year ahead with playfulness.
Let’s play.

Liza Fernandez

Find Magdalena

FADE IN: two surfers.

“I found this note on my phone that I never wrote.”

“What do you mean?”

“A notepad-note-thingie that said, ‘Things are getting interesting.’ Like, what the fuck?”

“Ok…”

“I feel like I’m getting my identity stolen.”

“You would know if that was happening. You also get shit-faced a lot, so there’s that.”

“Yeah. There’s this guy in the music business who sent me an email with a legal document attached that said, ‘You better get yourself a good lawyer, see you in court.’ Like, what the fuck did I do? It haunted me. I got off Facebook, Twitter, everything.”

“Don’t let ass-fucks like that get in your way. Fuckin’ idiots, the lot of ’em.”

“I don’t know. There’s like, some darkness inside, you know.”

He rubs his chest.

And then: “Do you believe in Jesus?”

“As a religion?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Jesus seems like he was a cool dude. Not sure about his father. Look man, you might need to speak to someone.”

“Yeah. You think that’s stupid though?”

“Not in the least. I’m sure Jesus had someone to talk to, wasn’t it that Magdalena chick? Hot redhead at the table? She looks like she could’ve listened to some heavy shit.

“Yeah. I try to deal with it myself but sometimes it feels like surfing and running don’t cut it.”

“That’s cuz you’re running away.”

“Yeah. And it’s catching up to me.”

“Then find a Magdalena, dude.”

FADE OUT.

Done (pt 3)

POPS the club

I am crying
over things that shouldn’t cause so many tears.
I am clutching
to things that everyone else can let go of so easily.
I am ripping
away at my own brain
because the darkness only hurts me more.
I am pushing
because my whole life that’s what I’ve been good at.
I am killing
myself over people
who wouldn’t do the same for me.
I am holding
back from the things that should help me succeed.
I am wandering
through broken pieces
that I shouldn’t have to put together in the first place.
I am over
everything.
I am so
done.

___
Done by Iona Scott, Before There Were BarsPOPS The Club

step up/meet it/match it/expand it

Walk into the darkness.
She said.
Don’t look back at your ghost, it’ll never serve you.
What once was, is no longer.
Step up, meet it, match it, expand it.
She said.

I stood stunned.
Who are you to tell me this?
How dare you.
How dare your courage, your groundedness, your skill, your success.
How dare your reason, your age, your wisdom, your heart.

Oh, child, you need to rid yourself of perfection.
It has never served you.
It never will.
Step up, meet yourself new; match it, expand it.
She said.

I said, fuck you.
I felt hot tears melt away makeup and mask.
I wanted to run away,
but I found myself nodding in agreement and making those “hmm” sounds like, “good one.”

Good one.
Ha.
Like, that’s funny.
And yet, she’s right.
She’s fucking right.

slow motion

Slow motion.
Heavy foot, right left.
Trying to shrug it off.
Get over it, just do it.

Flashes of humiliation.
Debilitating truths.
Two sides, one coin.
No one is right.
Yet it feels so real.

Jump.
Get out there, get out of your head.
Do it over and over.
Fail and fail better.
I am visited by doubt.
I am visited by weight.
I am visited by the Ghost of Comparison, who rears its lion head.

It’s mane as thick as cement.
As permanent as fake truth, fake facts.
It’s a lie, right?
Come on, pull yourself out of this muck.

A rush of cold water to the face, do it.
Do it now. Do it quick.
Heal this wound by ripping the bandaid off like, Right Now.
People are dying, hurricanes are whirling, our world is in need of less self-centeredness, more generosity.

But first, slow motion.