Coming Home

C O M I N G 
H O M E 

She said you are braver than you think 

She said you are more 
She said you are kindness and love 

She said get pissed 

She said your energy is as fluid as your compassion and your openness 

She said you are pure joy 

She said I adore you 

She said you light me up 

 She said you are a flower goddess 

She said you are a vibrant flowerbomb wrapped with the best hugs and kisses 

She said never leave me
She said you light up my entire universe 
She said you are a fucking gift  
She said your spirit has been a guide all retreat 
She said you are pure magic 
She said do you even know half of the power you have to spread joy? 


She said #meetmeatthedock

For the past six months I have been making magic. 

Not the Houdini kind of magic, not the casting spell kind of magic, 

rather the kind of magic that comes from connection. 

The kind of magic that comes from putting yourself out there. 

The kind of magic that comes from opening yourself up to more.

The kind of magic that comes from circling with women. 

I have "circled" with women before or so I thought…
On bedroom floors with nail polish, during sleepovers,
in my college dorm with pizza and beers
on a basketball court during a huddle.

But never in my life have I circled like this. 

What started out as an online connection changed me in a way I never saw coming.
What started out as trying to find a new me, became simply just finding me.


After 6 months of visioning
who I am,
who I am not
and who I want to be,
I found all three.

I found that while I appear to be loud and outgoing, I am actually quite shy. 

I found that while I appear to be flighty and unaware, I know exactly what is going on. 

I found that while I appear content and happy, I crave so much more from my life. 

I found that every old story I have told myself, no longer fits who I am. 

And I found out all of this 

on the lake. 

For 6 days in Maine, we circled. 

 we laughed and we cried. 

 we shared our deepest desires and our darkest fears. 

For 6 days in Maine, 

I was seen. 

 I was heard. 

and I listened. 

I listened to the wise women surrounding me. 

I heard them as they spoke of their dreams and their insecurities.  

I heard them all. 

And they all heard me. 

We ate beautiful foods, 

we drank delicious cocktails, 

we made flower crowns, 

we went skinny dipping,

 we sang around a campfire. 

And we sang loud.  

We loved each other unapologetically. We asked for what we needed. 

And we all received what we thought we could not hold. 

We all received exactly what we needed. 

And we all loved with a love that made us all stronger. 

We loved with a love resembling the very circle we created.  

Limitless, unending and conjoined forevermore. 

Photo by Kelly Beck Bennett 

Photo by Kelly Beck Bennett 

These women have changed my life. 

They have made me see that I am exactly who I want to be already. 

I am more.  

And in these weeks following this retreat, I have proven this to be my truth. 

I have opened myself up to more. 

I have burned the candle at both ends 

but I have come out of it burning so much brighter. 

The candle is me. The flame is mine. 

And I will no longer dim it for anyone. 

I just recently celebrated my 38th year on this earth.

38 years of longing to belong. 

38 years of wondering what that looks like. 

38 years of searching for something, and was too scared to find it alone.  

But this is my year. This is my time.  

And I know now, I am safe.  

I know now, I am as free as I want to be. 

I know now, I am me. 

And 

#iamyou 

And 

I am home. 

   

          “If you never did you should. These things are fun and fun is good.” 

― Dr. Seuss 

I have fun a lot. 

Like right now. I'm having fun writing this post. 

In my living room, a room full of guys watching the football game. 

I am having fun. 

Even when I am at work , I am having fun…. 

(Even though I can barely stand the place) 

But I choose fun. 

I make jokes and make other people laugh. I have to. 

It's my defense mechanism. 

I need to laugh, to survive. 

I embarrass myself for it. I make fun of myself for it. 

I make room for others to do the same, if they wish.  

Fun used to look different for me too. As it does for all of us as we get older. 

It used to involve partying, drinking and smoking, 

(it still does sometimes... but not nearly as often as it did. ;) )　 

Now, sometimes, it looks like me in a papasan in my sunroom, 

or me digging in the dirt, or collaging in my living room. 

Sometimes it is laying on the couch with my husband, laughing and tickles 

and so much love. 

Sometimes it looks like a vacation. 

Sometimes it looks like last year. Sometimes it looks like next year. 

Most times it looks like him. 

But it always looks like me. 

 If there is no fun, I'm not there. 

And I love this part of me. 

I love that others love this part of me. 

I truly believe it is why I am so blessed. 

It puts me out there. It keeps me open. It keeps me smiling. 

It keeps others smiling. 

But I know how easy it is to not have fun in our lives. 

I know how easy it is for me to have no fun. 

We get caught up in how serious everything is. 

Our bills, kids, our jobs, our deadlines. 

The day to day bull shit gets us down. It gets us stuck. It gets us angry. 

I too have these days, these weeks, often  

and most days when my alarm clock goes off the first words that come from my lips are "What the fuck". 

But still I get up, get dressed and as soon as I am out in public I say Good Morning to every single person I encounter. 

Because I choose to not carry "What the fuck" around with me. 

I choose to shift it. 

I am pissed when I wake up for work. I am pissed knowing I have to be in a building for the next 9 hours. 

I am pissed that I can't just sleep.  I am pissed that I don't work for myself (yet). 

I am pissed that I have to leave my favorite place. 

And I allow it all to piss me off. Then I get over it. 

I get my achy ass out of bed and I begin again. 

Every single, same old shit, day. I get pissed and begin again. 

I remember how great I felt yesterday when I laughed, when I smiled,  

and I start to get excited to do it all again.

Most of the time this works, and some days it just doesn't, 

no matter how hard I try, I can't stop saying "What the fuck". 

But I try. I try wicked fucking hard. 

I try wicked hard to have fun.

I try wicked hard to make sure others around me are having fun.  

Because that's all there is. 

Our greatest moments involve fun. 

Our best memories are filled with smiles.  

Fun fills us. It fills us to the brim. 

It takes us out of funks. It shifts us out of anger. It allows us to see a better day. 

What does fun look like to you? 

Evaluate it, think about it, then go get it. 

Turn up the stereo and listen to your favorite songs. 

Go find your fun. In the middle of the day, find it. In the middle of chaos, shift it. 

Smile at your anger. Smile at your life. 

And if you are like me you will forget everyday. 

You will forget and need to remember, everyday. 

And that's okay too. 

But try. And I will too. 

And if you still aren't having fun, sleep on it. 

Because now it's in your head. Now it's brewing. 

Then wake up and say out loud "What the fuck". 

And just that in itself, could turn out, 

to be a lot of fun ;) 

Me and my Kelly. Having too much fun. xo

Daily Transformations 

 

Always, after a long and restful vacation, on the day before I have to go back to work, 

I cry. 

Not a long, sobbing, tissues kind of cry, 

more like a eyes welling up, achy kind of cry. 

The kind of crying that has you wondering why you are crying. 

The kind of crying that has you beating yourself up with guilt. 

The kind of crying that has you feeling guilty 

because there are far worse things to cry about. 

The kind of crying that makes you forget to be grateful. 

I just arrived home two days ago from an amazing 6 day vacation in Key West. 

My husband, myself and 2 of our closest friends celebrating a 40th birthday. 

For six full days, I was grateful. 

For six full days, I felt free. 

And now I am crying. 

Sure I am missing our private floating dock and 85 degree waters. 

I am missing the frozen drinks and the flora that doesn't stop for seasons.   

But I let go of all that when the plane landed in R.I. 

So why the tears? 

I cry because every vacation I find myself. 

And every time,  once back to work, I feel like I lose it all over again. 

I go back to wearing someone else's shirt, 

I go back to being someone's bitch. 

I go back to a corporation that at one time filled me, 

but now, many years later, leaves me feeling drained and depleted. 

It leaves me feeling lost. 

But what does one do, when what you do, 

just doesn't do it for you anymore? 

What do you do when you have a mortgage and a car,  

and prescriptions that need to be filled? 

You stop your crying, 

you wipe your tears, and you go back to work. 

That's what you do. 

But first, 

you must find the gratitude. 

You look for the sun through all those dark clouds. 

You look for the rainbow, through the downpour of rain. 

You look through your tears and all your fears of being less than… 

You look for the love. 

And then, while sitting in your own backyard, 

you look over at the table, 

at some shriveled up succulent leaves that had fallen off it's mother plant….    

and you see it. 

 

The gratitude. 

The determination.  

The new life that sprouted from what seemed like the end.  

And you realize, 

And I realize, 

that this life is what we make it. 

A lesson I teach myself over and over again. 

THIS LIFE IS WHAT WE MAKE IT.

But maybe that little leaf was fine with just being a leaf,

…. or maybe it just wanted to be more.  

Either way, it transformed. 

Happy or sad, it transformed. 

Not thinking about what was, 

Not thinking about what could be, 

Just doing what it had to do in this moment now, 

It transformed. 

Everyday, we are transforming. And everyday, whether we like it or not, 

we must do things we don't want to do. 

Whether its cleaning the house or changing a diaper, 

or going to a job we don't like, 

we all, are constantly doing things we don't want to do. 

But this life is short 

and the older we get, we realize how little time we have here. 

So in my beautiful backyard, 

on a comfortable chair, typing on my laptop, 

with a cold glass of iced tea, my attitude shifts. 

I begin to cut images out of magazines, visioning how I want to feel. 

I begin to write how I need to feel.  

My tears have dried, and through grateful eyes, I begin to see more beauty. 

The beautiful plants I planted years and months ago, 

The twinkle lights hanging along the fence promising to be lit later tonight, 

My man and my kitty inside, always there for the kisses I need to give. 

And just like that, I am grateful. 

And just like that, I feel alive. 

And just like my energy has changed, 

and I am transformed. 

And if I have to, I will do it again tomorrow. 

And if I know myself, 

 I will do it several times tomorrow. 

And if I don't know myself, 

and I go back to feeling lost, 

and the tears begin to drop, 

I will remember the fallen leaf. 

And I will dry my tears with gratitude 

for these daily transformations 

that push me closer and closer 

to the me I want to be. 

The me I know is there, waiting to be found. 

And in gratitude I will find her.  

And in gratitude, she will find me. 

And in gratitude we will transform. 

And in gratitude, we will find our wings. 

In gratitude,  

I will fly.  

  

  

Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance. 

-Carl Sandburg 

On Sunday, July 20th myself and three other girls 

hosted a bridal shower for our friend, Shannon. 

In a private room at Meritage in East Greenwich,  

24 people gathered to shower the bride-to-be with gifts, wishes, tons of love…. 

and one poem.  

I have known my friend Shannon for about 6 years now. 

From the very first day we met, we have done almost nothing but laugh. 

Through all the stresses of our jobs, all the demands of rude customers, 

we could shift it all by making each other laugh.   

We could turn any bad situation 

into a really good time. 

And I have been known to turn many a good time, into a lengthy, ridiculous poem. 

A poem for Assistant's Day. 

A poem for every birthday. 

A poem for her engagement party. 

And for her bridal shower? 

You bet your ass she got a poem.   

I tried to keep it short, but I couldn't. 

I tried to spare too many details, but I couldn't. 

I tried to not cry when writing it (or reading it), 

but I did. 

For months prior to the shower, 

I had planned out some decorations, centerpieces, favors, etc. 

I knew there would be terrariums and succulents and a wishing tree and a few feathers. 

I gathered round fishbowls from thrift stores, tiny buckets, 

peat moss and deer moss and succulents a plenty. 

What started out as 8 succulent plants transformed into 24 bridal shower favors. 

I made a wishing tree with manzanita branches sitting in a large fishbowl filled with rocks and moss and feathers.

Using feather stamped tags, guests could write their advice or wishes for the bride to be. 

Everything all set up in front of the candlelit wall. 


I love creating displays.  This kind of work always lights me up. The amazing works of art of Anthropologie  displays in all their windows, inspires me to no end. 
I love using what I already have and turning it into something new and beautiful.
I love the amazing feeling I get
when I have thrifted something I otherwise, couldn't have afforded. 

But as much as all this lights me up,
nothing lights me up more than writing.
(Nothing lights me up more than rhyming).

And then to share it out loud, to your friend as a gift, 
lights us both up…. 

...As you already know Shannon, I have begun to grow flowers for you, 
And while I certainly have no field, I do have the space… 
There are dahlias and zinnias and coleus and lamb's ear
All waiting to go into their vase. 

But what if they don't look good, what if they're the wrong color… 
What if a hurricane comes and wipes it all away? 
With Mother Nature you never know, 
so another plan must be in tow, 
And that's why I am up here today…. 

From calla lilies to fiddleheads,  from head crowns to corsages 
All your vases, feathers and anything in between 
Whatever your vision, as grand as it may be… 
Rest assured will all be paid for, by me. 

So check that off your list, and put that money into something else 
It's the least I can do for you on this day
Your vision is mine (no matter how many times you change it) 
I will help you create your dream, of a gorgeous wedding day…. 


She loved it, she loved all of it. 
From the poem to the games, to laughing with her family and friends,
I would say this day was pretty amazing.  

A smile never left my friends' face all day.

And speaking of things that light me up,
you can put that one at the top of the list.

She is small but she is fierce, and she can handle any stress 

Unlike me who gets tied up in knots most of the time
She unties me and unravels me and helps me find my sorts
I might be the poet, but she is my rhyme. 
   



   

“One day I will find the right words, 

and they will be simple.” 

- Jack Kerouac

I began writing in my first journal when I was in the 3rd grade. 

 I wrote about a boy in my class borrowing my crayon. 

And that was all I wrote. 

Simple and to the point.  

Of course as I got older my entries developed in much more content and emotion.  

By the time I was in high school I was writing in my journal daily. 

Page after page of adolescent troubles. 

Boys, parents, boys, friends, boys.

Dissecting my emotions about it all. Trying to figure out why I felt the way I did. 

Trying to understand the point in all of it. 

Trying to understand myself.  

Back then the writing was easy. My pen would hit the paper and I would purge it all. 

Anger, love, confusion. 

Anything and everything came out of me and I never thought twice about it. 

I just let it flow. 

I just let it go. 

And it was easy. 

It was easy because nobody saw it. 

I didn't have to explain myself to anyone. 

I didn't have to feel any feelings of shame or embarrassment. 

I didn't compare my journal entries to other journal entries. 

I didn't look for how many "likes" I had. 

I just wrote. 

With no fear of who would or wouldn't comment. 

No fear of looking crazy, unorganized, or irrelevant. 

I just wrote. 

Something has happened to me since then. 

I don't write in a journal anymore.  

The most writing I do now is an occasional post on Facebook.  

Most of the things I have to say, I say to my husband 

or to my friends in the form of conversation.  

I have chained myself up. 

I have protected myself and my thoughts from cruelty and judgement. 

I have resorted to keeping everything safe, 

thoughts and ideas locked up in my own head 

so I don't have to own them or explain any of it to anyone. 

 But I miss having no fear. 

I miss the girl in 3rd grade who kept things simple and to the point. 

I miss the girl in high school who, without thinking, would just write. 

I miss the girl who always knew she had something to say. 

So here I am. 

Writing my first post in my new blog. 

Putting it all out there for the world to see. 

And I am scared shitless. 

But I am doing it anyway.  

  

No more talking about it. 

No more judging myself for it. 

No more chains. 

No more walking the tightrope.

I am here to let it all go. 

I am here to let it all flow. 

I am here and I am ready to tell my story.

I am ready to share my ideas. 

 I am ready to expose myself like the pinup on the swing. 

 Exposing all that I am and all I desire to be. 

Ready to rise above. 

Ready to elevate.  

And to get it all started 

all I had to do was write. 

Simple.