Prodigal Poet: An Ecclectic Offering on God, Shakespeare, and the Beatles

* This is part 6 of a series of posts that explore my struggles with self-esteem, weight, Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, and the very difficult task of trying to be my fullest self in a world that constantly demands more than what I am. Because this subject is so vast and most of my life has been spent swimming in its waters in some form or another I thought it best to break it up . . . also so as to not bore you to death! Some of you may not be able to relate, but I hope that you will find it interesting anyway. And perhaps you will be better able to understand someone in your life. Some of you may be able to relate and I hope that you will know that you are not the only one -- that the journey may be long, but progress is progress. Remember that no matter how small it may feel, you still are not the same person that you were yesterday. And that is something to celebrate! For Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 please scroll below . . . * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *...

I've been listening again to the soundtrack to "Lady in the Water," possibly my favorite of all of M. Night Shyamalan's movies. I know, it was pretty universally panned as being terrible. But why should I care? I loved it and that's all that matters. I love it because it's simple. I love it because it's beautiful and tender. I love it because I can see and feel the heart and soul that M. Night put into making it. I love it because it's fanciful and whimsical. I love it because it's a creative way of doing a modern-day, allegorical fairytale. I love it because it's honest. My working theory is that the people that hated it, do so because they don't know how to enjoy something with childlike love anymore. Or that they are far too "cool" to suspend disbelief for just a moment. And the rest, well, they were just upset that M. Night took out some personal aggression on the in-movie film criti...

There have been times in my life when I truly wonder where is the mercy. Where has God gone? And why has so much painful suffering been allowed to endure? Enough of those times have been for my own plights . . . but tonight . . . tonight I am left bewildered as to why my brother, sister-in-law, and two nieces have had a lifetime of burdens weighed upon them in the last several months. They have had more than their share of burdens for years now, but the last several months have been particularly difficult. My seven-year old niece, BryAnna, whom I have written about before was born with Treacher-Collins Syndrome. From her first moments in this world she has been poked and prodded by countless doctors, had innumerable trips down to Riley Hospital, and stubbornly made it through dozens of surgeries . . . at just seven years old. Where is God's mercy and grace through all of this? Well, to be quite frank, it is often times difficult to tell. We all wonder why any child should h...

I was out taking a walk earlier this evening with our dog, Desmond -- our nightly ritual poop-patrol stroll. It had been lightly raining most of the evening and during our walk I could feel it gently descending upon my ponytail and trenchcoat. I noticed the same thing that I always notice when I am outside after it has been raining: worms. Oodles of worms were scattered across the sidewalks -- shimmying over cement to find new resting places after having had their previous ones flooded. I once wrote a poem that was inspired by this, titled "Earth Drowning." The prologue I wrote for it was this: "Worm corpses scatter across sidewalks / Like tenets evicted from earth-carved homes." This phenomenon always saddens me. I have always, since I was very young, had an unusual infatuation with worms. I used to go worm-hunting at least once a week, turning over rocks in our backyard, especially near the garden, searching for my squishy, slimey treasures, with the hopes ...