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

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.

times up!

times up.jpg

You got an hour!
Like a prison alarm – BAAAAAAANG!
Time’s up.

Almost there.
Sit and write.
Close that door and swallow the stillness whole.
Throw it back like you mean it.
Take it, it’s yours.

Cuz you know that Quiet creaks opens the magic door…
Where the Still Voice lives.
The Still Voice, you know the one
Like an echo of an echo that whispers, “What about me?”

What about that book?
What about that play?
What about that movie?
What about that job?

explode like a motherfucker

explode like a motherfucker

I ache for silence.
I yearn for space, for quiet.
The A/C blares, this’ll help for now.
I push the Creator up and out, write!
Hurray! We don’t have time.
An old voice.

Headache.
Late night indecision based on waiting up for love and hoping to finish that podcast.
Jackie, quiet and sleepy.
Thank God. I feel tension release when I see this.

What’s yearning for space about? What’s this silence I seek?
I know there’s more to this.
Go deeper…

No music. A good thing. One step closer to silence.
Even though those two over there chat away.
Shaded table.
Darjeeling tea brews, honey at the ready.
I wait for her.

No, wait.
I wait for direction.
For me to explode like a motherfucker.
Liza Fernandez

September full corn/barley moon

full corn / barley moon

The September full Moon is usually known as the Full Corn Moon because it traditionally corresponds with the time of harvesting corn. It is also called the Barley Moon because this is the time to harvest and thresh ripened barley.

Ok, Full Corn / Barley Moon , here goes:

I let go of birthday age.

I let go of the feeling I have to be somewhere by now.

I let go of old records in the mind. 

I cultivate celebration.

I cultivate creative abundance.

I cultivate visualizing. 

Your turn.
Liza Fernandez

in a million years

in a million years

Nebula stars in the galaxy.

Sunday best.
Comfy pants, oversized shirt, tea in hand, silence.
The place is deserted.
Besides the laundry spinning its final cycle.
10am.
Wow, what to do with this glorious day?

Excitement is enmeshed with overwhelm.
There’s a TON to do.
But what do I WANT to do?

“Take your Sunday off.”
Do active nothings.
Like, yoga, massage, vacuum.
Keep your mind restful, and don’t feel like you have to do anything.

A friend of mine just came back from a retreat.
The teacher would say, “In a million years, slowly raise your body from the ground and sit up, if you wish.”

In a million years…

If you wish…

I repeat it in my mind.
Already my body softens. Eyes close. Space, so subtle, breathes more space.

So, in a million years, what do you do today?

In a million years, I will get another cuppa tea.
In a million years, I will figure out what yoga class to take.
In a million years, I may call Apple and get my computer sorted.

In a million years, I will wait to feel what happens next.