Art Plunge

  A whole year free of the horrors of endometriosis?! What an amazing year it was! Like winning the lotto!  I was able to hold down a job and get stuff done. Enjoy normal day to day activities like living and holding down my food. Just being able to exist without feeling like I was being bludgeoned to death with a cruel instrument.... It was sheer delight. I lived it up. I moved my body, worked hard, skateboarded, went kayaking, hiking and loved hard. Every beautiful shiny day pain free was shimmering  baby unicorn magic stuff!  But it all came crashing down as the grim harbinger of death pain came back from wherever it was vacationing. Knock knock knock upon my uterus, ovaries, digestive tract. Go away. Knock, knock, stab. Stab, stab, stab... After suffering about 2 decades with this thing I realized what I was in for. Days of excruciating pain where the very nerve endings in your internal organs feel like they are being put through their own personal murder. Murder by stabbing is the

  I've given myself a couple new mantras since I returned from vacation.  One is: Pizza vs Plane tickets Which essentially means.... Yeah you could order pizza (or any food, or go out to eat) or you could save yourself that money and put it towards a plane ticket/vacation. You saved yourself carbs, calories and usually $20 and upwards. The other mantra is : Don't lose the gains Did I not conquer 12 miles in one day? Did I not turn myself into a walking machine? Was I not killing those hills left and right? Don't lose the gains. Keep the momentum going. Put in the work. You achieved new levels now keep them! And last but not least: Don't lose the vibe! It's as easy as it sounds- you came back recharged, excited about life and creative projects again, you finally got a reward for all your hard work... Don't lose that feeling. Stay with it and make it happen again. Crush your goals and live your best life. Don't lose the vibe you are riding, don't let the w

 For Paul, my poet friend... Pitcher of Sorrow  As I grow older I've found myself  Filling up a pitcher of Sorrow My tears don't come instantly like they used to. They wait for the right Tomorrow. A few will pass...  and the pitcher grows full With each one, another ounce closer to the brim Overflowing and ready to pour  Will it be her or that or him? I let the pitcher of Sorrow flow steady  Ready to pour When it is ready. An even stream of all it has collected,  fermented A good tearful salty pitcher  not for drinking... A cheers to a life cemented.  You were the one who reached the brim, I pour the pitcher of Sorrow now for the ones collected within You set them all free. A steady, liquid pour  The pitcher couldn't hold any more.