Do you ever have those moments, where karma, or whatever one would term it, seems to nip you in the ass? But then you turn around and realize just how much growth you’ve received. Where the bite of being wronged is met with thoughtful pause, letting the sting recede, while stepping back and shifting perspective.


Do you ever say things before you think?


Do you ever instantly regret you shared something in being honest when perhaps a little white lie or withholding what you really feel is warranted?


If so, you may be familiar with the above karma fiasco. As truly what goes around comes around or as most learn in kindergarten, do unto others as you would have done unto youThere’s a book “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindegarten” by Robert Fulghum and I’m beginning to feel the pull to revisit its inspirational wisdom.

My weekend began with a jolt and has settled into one gilded in the knowing that sometimes you have to just take your dues and keep moving, realizing that while you may have slipped a bit,  the halo can go back on top the horns as we all have our moments, being perfectly imperfect all the while learning as life is but a string of lessons and every step or misstep is a part of the path, part of your truth.

Tiara halo with rosette horns, my kind of halo and horns.


It’s difficult to share what occurred because for one, I’m not innocent in the matter, and two, it involves my ex and by proxy my daughter so I try to not be too open as I’d never want her to be haunted by the past. I wrote something that fell in another’s hands and there is no way for me to objectively present the situation as in only being able to tell my side of the story, well, that leaves it a little off balance and balance is needed.


This whole situation reminded me of an ah-hah moment I had a few months back, so instead of treading the fine line of sharing versus airing personal-life laundry, I’ll bring that light bulb moment to the forefront.


I was at my favorite place for breakfast, Bumblekiss, eating my usual  bacon tacos with citrus salsa and sipping coffee cooled with a touch of soy milk. Ayla [note name changed for privacy] is originally from New Orleans and quite the delight with her frank honesty and ability to make you feel at home. After a few weeks of my regular am feasts, we began to share more of our personal life during our discussions amidst the coffee pouring. One day, we started talking about her recent issues with housemates, in that she had recently asked them to move out. She’d had it and even though she knew that it would be difficult finding new roommates, it’s worth the search for life is too short to just allow things to happen rather than be the things happening. To seize every moment, squeeze every second and to truly enjoy rather that settle, thinking “This is just how it is…”


I began telling her my story of my divorce, of Mars, my ex; circumstances may have left me in this juncture but it is I moving forward. I spoke of the desire my ex and I had to heal, to move on, all the while keeping Mars in the forefront and the difficulty when others enter our lives changing the dynamic. Being the mother I often feel I know what’s best for Mars, she’s a part of me; that’s how her life began and how it’ll always feel.


As I finished up telling my story, Ayla said something very interesting. She said, “Sometimes we have to ask ourselves why we hold on to our stories, why we tell them like we do, how it’s our perspective. Often we become so attached, we embody it, live it, breathe it. That part of the process is hearing yourself tell it to another, living through it to see it for what it is and realizing it isn’t how it has to be, anymore.”


Something inside of me clicked, the lightbulb came on for this special kinda pretty. In that, one why do I tell it the way I did? My feelings stem from my perception, of how I see it. It’s not objective and it seems I go from projecting myself as a martyr to a saint; for which I am neither. I am me.


I don’t want this story defining me, I don’t want the twist of it {being a divorcee} to be how others remember me. Sometimes all it takes is allowing that space to emerge and fill in with what is, in fact, the Truth and objectively speaking, just the facts.


I was married, I was disconnected, I had a dream of my own and never let myself go for it. I had a baby, started to feel and connect, started writing a story and realized I wanted my dreams an unwavering deep ache and desire to fulfill and live out my dream and yet finding myself a bit gun-shy meaning I stuck with the original “story” rather than revising as I change.  My little sister has a quote at the end of her email signature:


“It’s never too late in fiction or in life to revise”

~Nancy Thayer


The pat on my back need come from no other that myself in who I’m allowing myself to be, allowing my snowflake pattern of expression of my soul through self. I’ve done a lot of digging and unearthing to allow that self to bloom, heal and now fly.


I’m not broken, I may have had a broken heart; dealing with things from my childhood on to the newly torn that surfaced in realizing just how deep the cracks in my foundation of self went. The scars may be a bit tender, but they’re not wounds anymore. As Christina Perri laments in “Blue Bird”:


“How the hell does a broken heart get back together again when it’s torn apart, and teach itself to start beating again.”


That’s the thing with the heart. It needs no teaching or even direction. There is automaticity to the heart and it knows how to beat itself. One must believe in the invincibility of one’s heart, trusting and having faith that one will find one’s way. Please do not misunderstand as I’m using physical metaphor for a very much “mythical” sacred heart. Through which we can remember how to beat again joining the rhythm of life. But I have come to believe this heart isn’t so much mythical as it is metaphysical.


Elijah (aka Prince Charming) and my daughter, Mars, have helped me find the path to my heart and while not exactly a bulletproof heart,  I know that I can follow my heart’s path and handle anything sent my way. I believe in the invincibility of my heart as a vessel of love that has brought me through some tough times, whether warranted or not, allowing me the resonance to stand here perfectly imperfect as me. I am who I am and that is all I ever need to be. As an optimist-love-n-lighter I believe all is well that ends well, so I’ll leave you with how I began my weekend, rather than letting another begin the weekend for me; karma may have bit me but love had my back.


Latte and flowers, another path to my heart.