The silence between the notes

You said to ask. If I needed anything in my future, all I'd have to do is ask. But what I need is for this to be gone, or to have never existed...So the memories can be gone, disappear like they never even were.  The memories of where we sat. And where we talked. And how you looked. And what I wore. And what you said. And what we swore. And what I feared. And what you hid. Or what I feared you hid.  All those memories make the feelings too strong. Too current. Too real. But you can't "fix" that while those memories are still here. And neither can I. So I just get angry. Or sad. Or confused. And it intensifies how much I hate you. And how much I hate everything we lost. Because I'm sure that you already forgot the memories, or never had them in the first place. And it was really just me, by myself, all along.  But what can either of us do to fix that now? Nothing...And what's left to work for or hope for...Nothing...And what could I possibly ask you to help wit...

The trouble with calling us "teachers" is that it implies our purpose is to teach.  Not necessarily to inspire learning.  The trouble with calling them "students" is that it implies their purpose is to study.  Not necessarily to be inspired with learning.  But teachers can't teach what we don't know.  And in this life, no one can know everything. Or anything really.  At least, not anything worth knowing.  We can preach and we can assess but that's not truly teaching.  And students won't study what they don't care about.  And in this society, no one cares about everything.  Or anything really.  At least, not anything we "teach" in school.  They can memorize and they can test but that's not the same as learning.  So what if the teachers stopped trying to teach?  Because there's more to life than what any one person can learn, so there's more to knowing than what any one person teach.  And that's the scary thing abo...

What's the problem with being a people pleaser? Actually, it seems there are plenty of problems--plural--with trying to please everyone, but for some reason this is one habit I just can't let go of. The logical part of me knows that I don't have to hang so much of my own happiness on the satisfaction of others, so why can't I just convince myself that it's ok to stop trying for some people? I feel like I've made a bit of a break through this week, but tr uth be told, I'm trying to talk myself into this theory even as I write. So if you would like to share any words of wisdom on the topic, I would really appreciate it.  The cruelest irony that I've discovered recently is that the people who are the least likely to ever be pleased by anyone seem to be the very same people that I most want to appease. Set in their ways and eternally pessimistic, they just drain the life right out of those around them.  Why in the world do I keep trying to please that type o...

There's something magical about knowing that other dancers, other artists, truly understand you. Especially when it seems like most of this world just can't, or won't, see what makes you tick.  I found that elusive empathy in an article called "Date a Girl Who Dances." But it's about much more than dating dancers; it's about learning to see people for who they really are, and understanding how to be a meaningful part of their meaning-filled life. In my life, I've found that people are often intrigued by that intangible inspiration that seems to follow, or maybe lead, artistic people. But few people really dive deeply enough to become a permanent part of it.   If you know someone who shows every feeling through their movements, or who draws every idea in the air or on paper as they speak, or who thinks and asks and responds to the little details that you'd never noticed before, then this article will help you understand why they think and feel so m...

At 3 AM, a poem came to me and I posted it here with a comment about the unpredictability of writing. In the next 15 minutes, another came to me, but when I went to transfer it from my phone's notebook to this post, I hit a wrong button and lost five lines. As if to illustrate the point of my 3 AM poem, my 4AM brain decided to forget those five lines entirely. I stayed awake until about 4:15 trying to re-create them, then I finally fell back to sleep. I've worked on it again for about a half-hour now and still can't figure out anything that felt as good as the original. I decided I should post it before I lose anything else! But maybe I'll come back and change it later. It's kind of funny to see that a single poem ended up showing how effortless and laborious the writing process can be. -------------------------------------------------------------- I was strong enough to build you up, To save you from what you might become.  But when I fell and needed you, You weren...