Friday, December 31, 2004

Bright and Shiny and New

Brand New Mom
(file photo)

It's the last day of the year. I take stock...I look back...I like what I see.

It's been a beautiful year of major transitions, inner healing and transformations...a year of puzzle pieces falling into place, hearts getting softer, warmer, larger...STRONGER...a year of knowing where I am...and joyfully sitting...just breathing...calmly, deeply, knowingly.


The Universe' loving abundance has been made manifest in many ways...mostly through the kindess and caring of friends and heart swells with gratitude for all of them...and I wish each beautiful soul a year of Love, Light, Laughter and yes...


It's the only way I know to be truly joyful.

So as I bid farewell to 2004, let me share this prayer to one and all ~

I seek . . .

To know my Self more and more and Honor that which I come to know
To be gentle with my Self in every way...every day
To be firm enough to remember to strive for my highest good always
To see everything and everyone with eyes connected to my heart and not just my head
To rejoice in my Goddess-given kindness and share my gifts with all who seek
To receive abundance in my life and give back to life from the Universe' overflowing well of prosperity and joy

And as always
To let go and let God

A blessed new year to you.

Tuesday, December 28, 2004

...tears are not enough...


Monday, December 27, 2004


“As I look back on my life, one of the most constant and powerful things I have experienced is the desire to be more than I am at the moment ---an unwillingness to let my mind remain in the pettiness where it idles --- a desire to increase the boundaries of my self ---a desire to feel more, learn more, express more --- a desire to grow, improve, purify, expand. I used to interpret this inner push as meaning that there was some one thing out there that I wanted to do or be or have. And I have spent too much of my life trying to find it. But now I know that this energy within me is seeking more than the mate or the profession or the religion, more even than pleasure or power or meaning . It is seeking more of me; or better, it is thank God, releasing more of me.
From Notes To Myself by Hugh Prather

"More Of Me"...
~ and nine months pregnant with Oona
October, 2002

Saturday, December 25, 2004

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

"My Santa Babies"
From The Azimi Family

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas
Composed by  Ralph Blane and Hugh Martin  

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
From now on our troubles will be out of sight

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the Yuletide gay
From now on our troubles will be miles away

Here we are as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us, once more

Through the years we all will be together
If the fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now

Why I Give It My All

Big brother Sol reading to baby sister Oona
January, 2003

Wednesday, December 22, 2004


I woke up this morning with an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. As I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, I felt so grateful for my electric toothbrush. How many people in the world have the luxury of brushing with an electric toothbrush, let alone own an actual toothbrush, I thought.

As I went back to the bedroom I saw my perfect pudgy pretty little boy and felt this overwhelming love for him and my two other beautiful kids still sleeping in their warm beds.

There is peace. There is quiet.

In a short while we will all be trooping noisyly downstairs for a nice, warm breakfast of pancakes, fresh fruit and juice. We will all be full in the bellies. The kids will watch their favorite cartoons. I will do stuff and putter around the house and maybe catch Oprah at four. The two younger kids will nap. My eldest boy and I will do homeschooling. And if I am lucky, I will have time to play on my computer.

And before I know it, my darling man would walk in the door --- one of my favorite times of the day --- and it would have been another busy, fun-filled day at the Azimi home.

And all is good.

And God is great.

And I am full.


Sunday, December 05, 2004

Old Man Winter and the Big, Bad Blah

"Frozen Slipper"

Winter is tough on my senses.

Mine are in a blender set on high. My moods are tossed, chopped, pulsed, pureed and makes for one very blah concoction. I’ve been blah for the past few days - my mind, my body, my spirit, even my hair - and I don't know what to do.

"Be patient with the questions that lie within your heart". Rainier Maria Rilke said. Or something like that.

I have a lot of questions. I question why I have to wait so long to get on with my "life". Not that I don't appreciate the one I have now. On the contrary. I have learned - the hard way - to be grateful for that which I have. There's so much to be thankful for. I have a great husband who loves me and children who are the most lovable beings in the universe. I have everything I ever wished for and more. Besides, an attitude of gratitude certainly beats being grumpy all the time.

But there is that place in my insides that remain empty, a hole, a void that never seems to get filled by anything - be it power, money, family, not even a million and one books and beautiful babies.

I am beginning to feel a twinge of guilt as I say this but I say this just the same because it is the truth. My truth. And the truth shall set me free.

The question is when.

I question why that void never gets filled by anything. Not even my concept of God or Goddess or any variation of divinity my puny human brain can imagine can settle the feeling of emptiness.

Maybe it's just human nature. No contentment. No peace. Only momentary glimpses of it. “It” is as fleeting as a butterfly landing on one's shoulder on a spring day.

Or maybe, it's PMS.

Ahhh, winter and the big, bad blah.

God, I can't wait for it to be over.

"Mr. Sun,
Mr. Golden Sun
Please shine down on me."
- Nursery song

Sunday, November 28, 2004

Oona's Art Day

My two year old daughter has once again managed to express herself on the freshly painted living room walls.

"Oona! No drawing on the walls!" I yell in my loud, Mommy-in-charge voice.

She looks up at me with those innocent eyes.

"Don't wowy, Mommy. Don't wowy, Mommy.” she says over and over.

I am stifling a smile as best I could. She sounds so sweet I just want to hug her. But I prevail since it’s disciplining time. She sees I am not budging from my firm-mommy stance and therefore, ups the ante.

"I'm sowee, Mommy." almond-doe eyes cast down, feigning remorse.

Uh-oh. That one’s got to work. Mommy-in-charge face melting away fast.

"It's okay, honey. Come. Give Mommy a kiss and huggabug..." my eyes are closed, lips puckered, ready to receive the sweetest kiss from the little angel.

No kiss.
No hug.
I open my eyes.
No child.

Little angel is off and running. I bet she's considering self-expression on the kitchen wall next.

My great, young artist ~ Oona, on her 2nd b-day, Nov. 28, 2004

Friday, November 26, 2004

Do More Things...BADLY.

I met the author Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy or SARK last Saturday in Toronto.

I was excited about the meeting because I have admired her since that fateful day at Tina’s apartment eight years ago where I chanced upon her book Succulent Wild Woman.

Just the book I needed to read at just the right time in my life.

SARK had a brief workshop on making your creative dreams real , her new book. She signed books after and then had a soiree with the MMB (Marvelous Message Boards on PlanetSark, members which I am. (MMB name: "iKat")

She shared a lot of wonderfully inspiring stories and read magical poetry. SARK even belted out a few tunes. Oh, what a vibrant, joyful soul. But of all the things she shared, the one that hit home was her advice to procrastinators and perfectionist and busy people on doing. I, of course, am all of the above.

The message is this: Do more things --- badly.

To that I said: Eek!

The first part about "doing more things" is easy enough to understand. But “badly”, BADLY! It takes a while for such information to sink into a perfectionist’s brain, even a recovering one at that . At first, it just does not compute. Old recording in my brain started to play: "If you're not going to do it right, don't do it at all."

SARK is easy-going. She is gentle in her manner of giving advice. I slowly began to accept what she was saying. She was so heartfelt, crystal clear in her speaking. And best of all, she had an honesty to her that just made want to listen well.

Here's Susan's gentle message:

"You can be ~

A proud procrastinator
An imperfect perfectionist
A happy busy person

And still be an active creative dreamer."

Aha! I had a moment there. Why did I not realize this before? I would saved myself a lot of head and heartaches everytime I fell short of a goal. Of course it's okay to procrastinate. Of course it's alright to be a perfectionist. What's not right is getting frozen in place because of it. That's where the advice to "do more..." comes in. Just keep doing. Just keep moving. Just keep tweaking along the way.

And, by God, I am grateful for busy. Busy equals alive.

I, Kathreen, choose to be fully alive!

Drawing by SARK

I hereby declare myself a proud procrastinator, imperfect perfectionist and happy busy person who resolves to do more things...properly or BADLY!

Thank you, Susan, for all the good...AND BAD, that you do in the world.


Sunday, November 21, 2004


I just love this photo of our little man, Sol, shown here waiting for his aunt, Tita Joey at the airport.

Joey is my youngest sister. A couple of months later this scene is repeated with the arrival of the other beloved sister, Leslie.

I adore this picture for its innocence, its purity, its sense of promise of fun things to come. And lots of fun we had!

There was strawberry/cherry picking, horseback-riding, hand-gliding, grocery shopping, baby-waiting/delivering and ring-making in Montreal with Tita Joey. Then there was outlet shopping, park/museum-visiting, restaurang-hopping, junk food-munching, and posing for pictures at Niagara Falls with Tita Leslie.

There was home-cooking, closet-organizing, laundry-washing and cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. Cleaning kids' clutter, kids' food droppings and kids bums. There's lots more we did but one thing's for sure. Amidst all the doing there was lots of laughing. Laughing until our sides hurt. Laughing until we cried. Laughing until all the hurts of the past have melted away.

Sisters are loads of fun to have around. They're an extra pair of strong hands and sturdy shoulders to lean and cry on. They've got good ears to ramble on to and a soothing presence when times get extra tough. They've got great fashion sense, an area which I am known to be challenged and even greater sense in the kitchen.

I'm the luckiest since I've got two of them --- my best friends, my allies, my soul sisters, my laughing buddies.

Tita Leslie and Tita Joey, I love you both so much. Thanks for being the best Aunts Solomon, Oona and Joshim could ever have.
And thanks for being the best sisters in the world. You two are too much fun!

Until the next visit ... and did I hear anyone say "Hola! Hola!"? You better practice your Spanish-speaking senoritas just in case you come visit me in sunny Spain. Viva Espana!

Now that's another tale for another time. ;-)

My beautiful sisters and best buddies, Joey Pineda and Leslie Albano. (photo taken in Tagaytay, Philippines)


Saturday, October 30, 2004

Have You Ever (A Poem For J)

Have you ever had someone spit into your shoe
Eeky, sticky stuff that’s utterly goo

Have you ever had someone spit into your shoe
Your chest , your shoulder and on your hair, too

Have you ever had someone spit into your shoe
Yet still smile and tell him “Coochie-coochie-coo!”

I have had that someone spit into my shoe,
My shoulder, my chest and on my hair, too

I love him no matter, I cherish the goo
I love him forever, I’m sure you will, too.

(Now if you’ll just excuse me,
I think he just poo'd!)

My gooey, pooey, coochie coo.
Joshim, 4 months

Friday, September 24, 2004

The Blue Stool

My kids' blue stool
Has many uses
It's a seat first of all
If so one chooses
See it's also a table
A toy or
A ride
And my favorite one of all ~
When they sit side by side

(...yes, there's more than one...IKEA sells them cheap! :-)

Tuesday, September 14, 2004

The Domestication of A Diva

Life as an immigrant in Canada, with a husband and three young children is not at all what I expected. My entire support group is in Manila or elsewhere in the world and I only have my good husband's family here.

I used to cry buckets in the beginning. The spoiled princess that I was kicked and punched and squealed like a pig being led to the roast.

I did not come all the way from Manila to suffer like this! I yelled with indignation. I did not leave my comfortable life with assistants and helpers and all the trappings that come with being a celebrity to labor around the house cleaning unmentionable dirt and picking up clutter from sun-up to sun-down. I screamed at the injustice. And I did not come all the way here to suffer cabin fever all week long from lack of fresh air from being stuck in the house all day, I cried "Victim! Victim!" all the way.

Toronto, if you didn't know, is hell in the winter which did nothing to help my already hapless situation.

Fast forward to two and a half years later.

There I was, putting my seven thousandth load of dishes in the washer one night, humming one of my favorite inspirational songs when it dawned on me ever so that me humming? Whoa! I'm humming and singing again, which means I must be in a good mood, which means I must not dread doing the dishes anymore, which means I'm out of the woods! I couldn't help it. I started tearing up with joy and gave thanks to God and Goddess and all the saints combined. This is a far cry, literally as well as figuratively, from how I used to be in the past. Back in the day, I would have cried for a completely different reason. Regret. Frustration. Resentment. Anger and Hurt. Anything less than perfect, you name it and you bet I was crying about it.

I drove my poor husband nuts. How could I not when I myself was going nuts!

I was pining for a lifestyle that was no longer available. I was longing for a way of living outdated and totally inappropriate for this stage in my existence. What was needed of me was responsibility, self-sacrifice, flexibility (ooh, this was a big one for me) and most of all, the kind of love that was purely unconditional. Unconditional love or nothing at all - for it was to be the basis of my family's sanity. But I could not give it just yet. Not in the beginning. The process was going to take much longer than I thought.

I call the whole process: The Domestication of a Diva.

It is true. Mothers are the anchors of the home. When Mom is happy, everyone is happy. Oh, but when Mom's having a crappy day, everyone take cover because the shit will hit the fan. Or the walls! Depending on which child is having the tantrum.

It's been almost three years, that and three million realizations.

Here are some of my favorites:

~ Dishes, pots and pans do not get clean by themselves, not even if you leave them on the kitchen sink for three days. Same applies for laundry, floors and kids.

~ When I mix colored clothes and white clothes in the wash, I get clothes with the most unappealing colors you could think of.

~ It is possible to miss one's helpers more than one's family.

~ It is possible to live on "left-over" food. In fact, it is the only way to exist! Batch cook, batch cook, batch cook. And better make it BIG-batch cook - or you might as well live in your kitchen.

~ A good cook is made, not born.

~ Doing household chores is painful, however, bearing the pain of not being able to breathe because of shit lying around- and I'm not only speaking metaphorically here, is so not worth it. Better to go through the housework pain than see, trip on, or breathe shit all day long.

~ Domestication is a painful process (one of the most painful experiences especially for an ex-diva-spoiled-bratty biatch that was me) and the best way to ease the pain is to drive to the nearest Mc Donald's or Burger King for a big dose of tummy lovin'. Emotional-eating Syndrome my ass...I say, Whatever-Works Syndrome for the moment. There's always kick-boxing when I do get out of my depression. And you know what, you do get off the pissy pot sooner or later.

~ Just when you think that it can't get any worse, it does. But then just when you think you can't take it anymore, you do. And you are stronger and a better, more beautiful, well-rounded human being for it.

~ My kids are still not the perfect little creatures I envisioned them to be nor will they ever be but as I learn to accept my own imperfections a bit more everyday, I become a better mother to my perfectly imperfect angels. And I love them anyway. Unconditionally.

~ My husband can be the strongest ally I can have one day and be my worst enemy the next. I may be head-over-heels totally in love with this perfect man I married one minute and pulling-my-hair-out and screaming like a banshee at the insensitive bastard the next. At the end of the day, I love him just the same. Unconditionally.

~ Yes. Divas can become domesticated.

I could go on and on and on but , see, my perfectly imperfect two month old baby is crying for mommy's booby again.

End of mommy-musing.

Domesticated Diva out.

The Domesticated Diva with her Magical Mmmunchsters=mom's munching monsters=always munch, munch, munching!

Goldie Rocks! : A Fishy Tale

This is a story of one amazing fish who lost its tail. In tribute, I hereby write him his very own tail --- I mean, TALE.

We've had Goldierocks for over a year now. It was Solomon’s first-ever pet. A gift from his favorite Uncle Mikee who bought the tiny thing from Yorkdale Mall.

Sol likes to think it’s a boy fish.

Oh, I just loved that innocent look of wonder and excitement on his little three year old face when the fish first arrived.

Sol’s first pet. Goldierocks or Goldie for short. There he was in his little round fish bowl with his little fish toy and the little colored pebbles at the bottom. It was nice. We were all very excited about the new arrival. Until it dawned on me while everybody looked on excitedly at the tiny creature --- I was going to do the not so exciting fish chores that came with having a pet. I know, you're thinking it’s only a teeny tiny thing right? But hey, they eat and poop, don’t they? Oh well, what's one more chore. I only have ninety-seven more to do anyway and it's only eleven thirty in the evening.


Fast forward to six months later. I demanded that we all took turns cleaning the bowl. We were all up to it. This meant cleaning Goldie's bowl only when the glass turned green and we could hardly see the poor fish. Goldie would actually be on the surface with his tiny mouth opening and closing the entire time.

"Oh look at our cute little Goldie begging for food." I said as I watched amused at the tiny mouth popping open, shut, open, shut.

My sister Joey who is the actual pet-lover-picking-up-stray-cat-left-and-right in the family explained to me that the fish was not asking for food but begging for AIR! The bowl was so dirty that there was no oxygen in the water anymore and the poor fish was fighting for his life.

Oops. I guess it was time to change the water again.

It was Jack's turn. My good husband actually did a great job, too. The glass was so clear you could see the tiny bubbles stuck to the walls. Surely Goldie was most grateful. NOT. Not only was Goldie not grateful, he was suffocating, too! Jack used dishwashing detergent to clean the bowl! A big mistake, we later discovered.

The poor fish got sick from the toxic water and was sadly, dying. Goldie floated on the surface barely breathing. I, being the one to see him daily, wanted to do the most humane thing I could think of ~ euthanasia. It was just too much to see the poor thing fighting, struggling for the little life that was left in him. Clearly, he was suffering.

They were all against it.

I was already saying goodbye to the fish one morning and told my son to say farewell, too.

"Goldie's going to fish heaven soon.", I told my boy. I was going to end Goldie’s misery once and for all.

"Why, Mommy?" said my three year old.

"Because he's sick and he's going to a better fish heaven kind of place where he won't be sick anymore." I said. The better place being down the toilet.

"Ohh..." Sol said slowly. "I'm sad."

I tried to reassure him, "Mommy's sad, too. But Goldie has to go soon because he's not well anymore. And I have a great idea. Let's go to the pet store and get another Goldie this weekend! How's that?", I said as excitedly as I could.

"Okay." Sol said, eyes wide and bright with anticipation. And just like that he was off for another installment of his morning cartoons.

Now that wasn't so hard. Okay. So what to do with the fish half dead staring at me with those glassy eyes? Maybe I can wait one more day. Just in case of a miracle. Unlikely, I thought. I doubted any miracles coming Goldie's way since he was already swimming sideways and not moving most of the time. That night, good old Uncle Mike cleans out the bowl thoroughly. What a persevering, kind and fish-loving Uncle this is, I thought to myself. It was, of course, a useless endeavor I thought smuglly. Whatever makes one happy, I thought.

Early the next morning, I was expecting a lifeless fish floating on top of the bowl. Instead I saw something else. Something nothing short of a miracle. There was our Goldie, swimming happily, properly, once again. Now how did that happen? Was it magic? Or simply a case of clean water resuscitating the fish?

Ah, so that's how you do it.

Goldie's happy days were back. He did loose a lot of his tail in the process. My guess is that he contracted some disease in his weakened state that ate away most of it. Which was fine since fish grow their tails back anyway. Or don't they?

Then my daughter , Oona, comes into the picture. A curious little lady, this one. One day, she decides to take a closer look at the fish. so picture this: Goldie's bowl on a ledge. Sweet, little girl grows into precocious, curious girl. And one afternoon when all was right and relaxed in the home, a sudden crash broke the spell. We came running to a crying Oona, although unscathe was badly shaken, shattered glass all over the floor and water, water everywhere. And in the middle of all this, a flapping Goldierocks fighting for his life.

For the second time.

Well, to cut our fishy tale (and tail!) short, Goldie did not make it this time. He fought for his dear little life for a couple weeks more and then said bye-bye. But not without a fight. I actually shed a few tears when I saw him motionless at the bottom of the bowl so sure that he was dead. Until I noticed a miniscule gill movement. Since I’ve learned that changing the water revives them, I immediately did just that. But it did not work this time. Goldie died the next day.

He’s one amazing creature, our dear Goldierocks. Solomon, Oona and I all said goodbye to him and sent him over to fish heaven via the downstairs powder room toilet.

Goodbye, Goldierocks. May you find your very own special fishbowl in fishheaven with no curious toddlers crashing your peaceful abode and no well meaning bowl cleaners squirting poisonous liquids in. May you have all of your beautiful tail back to its swish-swaying glory. Thanks for keeping me company by the sink during those long, lonely nights of doing the dishes. Thanks for patiently listening to my lamentations during the worst nights of tough scrubbing stains off heavy cooking pots in the beginning of our stay here.

Thank you for teaching me about perseverance and giving it the best you’ve got. In your own gentle, unobtrusive manner, you have shown me the way of peace and quiet persistence.

Fish gods and fish peace be with you, our dear Goldierocks.

With love,
Kathreen - accused of attempted euthanasia, Solomon - Goldierock's original owner, Jack - fish murderer one, Oona - fish murderer two and Uncle Mikee, official fish hero of the Azimi family.

Goldie & Fishpals
In Fishpond Heaven
...I imagine :-)

Friday, September 03, 2004

like a great big candy store

i should say chocolate instead of just candy. never liked candy that much. the stuff's too annoyingly sweet. ah, but chocolate is divine. i like the plain white ones. or rich and dark. no nuts, no fruits, no gooey, sticky cream-filled centers. just white. or black. or brown.

pure and simple.

my great big chocolate candy store: jen gray's website. i have found a place which inspires me to be more creative, more courageous in sharing. a place which helps make me more internet-savvy because of the many links it shares. i don't *know* the woman behind it but i *love* her already. i can't fully explain it. i risk sounding like a gushy teen admiring her favorite celebrity - call it idol worship if you wish - but the fact remains that i adore the woman's works and the woman herself! from those rich photographs to the simple yet heartfelt words in her stories and poetry, i simply adore it all. i am grateful for the handpicked websites - links to worlds that i never imagine existed. they nourish my artist's soul, hungry for too long. my favorites so far are snozbery's (sharp!), sark's (soft :-), andrea's blogs (sensational!). also adore uncommon things (cool stuff), 100words (clever idea) and one minute vacations (another winner).

but my favorite reason of all for loving jen's site mucho-much is because many times, she is able to put into perspective a lot of tangled up thoughts in my sometimes tangled up brain in a manner so pure and simple that i always end up telling myself: "aha! so that's what it is. now why didn't i think of that?!"

as for the photographs, ahhh. every single one is a gem! one can tell that the photographer of those pix put heart and soul into it. like her words and hand-picked quotes, a lot of them speak volumes to me of stories whispered from one woman's heart to another...gently...respectfully...lovingly.

there are more treasures yet to be discovered. i always look forward to coming back...over and over...

may jen continue to post her succulent stuff and may this wild woman continue to burn deliciously bright for us all.

and yes, i always get my fill of eye, mind, heart and soul candy whenever i visit.

want a bite? go to or simply click on the title above. bon a petit!

Here's my favorite blogger and cyberpal ~
jen gray, pure and simple.

photo taken w/ permission from archives

Wednesday, September 01, 2004


I haven't posted anything for so long. I've been busy. Wait, that's not true. I mean it's true that I've been busy - who isn't? - but that is not the real reason for my not appearing on the page. Truth be told, I was scared.

Just like me to start out like a canon ball and fizzle out after a few tries. There is no lack for things to say. In fact, there's more to say today than there ever was. More stories to tell, the kind that are deep, introspective, moving, worthwhile. But they are all locked up inside this heart that is contracting instead of expanding.

Fear. Same old cold & dark & dank thing. I am letting this neurosis take hold of me again.

I'm going to put a stop to it, right here, right now. I say enough.


Enough of having to put the pressure to be perfect because I am not. Never was. Never will be.

Enough of having to make excuses because there are none.

Enough of having to worry about who says what about this or that because they don't matter.

Enough of being selfish, self-centered and self-loathing.

Enough of being too hard on myself because ~


I am enough...

... the way I am in all my glorious imperfection.

...the way I am with all my talents and my lack thereof.

...the way I am with the direction I choose to go at the speed I'm comfortable with.

...with all my many layers that meld into one and makes for the colorful, wild woman that I am.

...the way I am happypeaceful one minute, stressed out of my mind the next, confused, bewildered, inlove, inlust, content, discontent, organized, dirty, smart, ignorant, compassionate, egocentric, loving, controlling, meditative, loud, soft, sharp ~

...the way I am growing...Growing...GROWING...

I am enough. Always have been. Always will be.


And. So. Are. You.

Wunjo, The Rune of Joy/Light

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

True Love of Mine

I have always been here just inside your beating heart
Felt your love, felt your fears, we were never apart
Sing you songs of the spirit, they come from above
I have always been here for it's you that I love

You can call me your savior, your teacher, your friend
You can call me whatever, it doesn't matter in the end
Create what you wish, songs of love, songs of peace
You can call me your angel, no longer to be missed

Let our glorious connection last forever and a day
I would never want our bond broken in any way
Now that you've found me - hold me, feel me, use me
This is what I'm here for, this is my destiny

Help make you all that you can be
Help show you all that you can see
Help teach you that you can be free
This is your destiny

So darling close your weary eyes and lay down your sleepy head
My wings enfold your tired body, make of my body your very own bed
I am here with you, right here with you
Never again be blue, darling, I am here just for you.

Saturday, August 14, 2004

Ode To Wild Woman

To live near the ocean

To experience the sea

To climb hills and mountains,

Swim rivers, be free

To watch caterpillars crawl down from a tree

To run after butterflies and giggle with glee

To bathe in the moonlight

To sing those nightsongs

To dance with the fireflies

As the wind sings along

To go through life naked

Go out on a limb

To live this life bravely

Do things on a whim

To fight for my rights

Know how to say "No."

Be proud of my strength

Let my courage show

To love with a passion

To burn with desire

To soar to the heaven

And touch God's great fire

These are my life longings

These are my beliefs

I am a wild woman

Forever, for keeps

Wild Woman, K. w/ Wild Child, Solomon, at 6 weeks

A Birthday Poem for My Dad

{{{I wrote this poem for my Dad on his 59th birthday. That was six years ago. It was his 65th yesterday and I love him just as much! Now I'm sharing it and letting everyone know about my first love and all around hero! Happy Birthday, Dad! I love you always. - From your one and only --- *Star*}}}

Hello, Dear Daddy
How have you been
It's wonderful, Daddy
To see you again

A million and one things
I'd like to say to you
Where and how to start
I haven't got a clue

Maybe I can begin
With a line from my heart
"I love you, Daddy."
How's that for a start

Or perhaps I can say
A simple "Thank You!"
For the way you brought me up
With the attitude: Can Do!

You've always been my hero
The love of my life
Even when times were hard
And so full of strife

You have taught me a lesson
You said, "Never give up."
And for that Dearest Daddy
I will never stop---

Being thankful for your loving
Forever Daddy's little girl
Happy Birthday Dearest Daddy
You're the best in the world!

I miss you all so much! - K.