Life is a constant stream of information flooding us from all angles. We are challenged daily to process that information and make sense of the world. With respect to the people we encounter, we ease the challenge by taking shortcuts instead of actually getting to know each person we meet. We simplify people–categorizing them by a myriad of observable, external traits: gender, ethnicity, religion, politics, occupation, race, age, weight, hair color, and clothing. We create stereotypes. Unfortunately, the stereotypes we create are often inaccurate and unfair. Worse yet, we often internalize those stereotypes, making it difficult even to understand ourselves.

If I could converse with any person from the past, present, or fantasy land, in a heartbeat, I would choose Robin Williams. When I was ten years old, “Mrs.Doubtfire” was on television at least twice a day, and I played the “Genie” in a musical theater play at age twelve. Not only was he a comedic genius, but also a profound thinker and compassionate artist. His ability to blend laughable humor with deep, emotional insight makes him intriguing to me.

The song helped me understand certain complexities about myself that I refused to acknowledge before. For example, relationships can be very complicated with difficult choices, and I lost my passion for being an expert ballerina. I began to understand the personas I collected over the years and accepted the good parts I typically hid away. The soundtrack brought out the version of me that is ready for new experiences, and perspectives.

I’ve decided to take a new approach
To escape the rage inside me.
My rage is a burning torch
Mixing the synapses of my brain.
Because I can’t begin to unscramble
Millions of thoughts disagreeing,
I struggle to speak,
To let out what I mean.
The ones around me struggle to hear
Completely misunderstanding me
Back and forth until my brain tires.

What does love mean? I asked one long day,
Caught off guard, words slipped. They shied away.
In a moment, I pondered, my heart felt the rush,
And all that I could manage was, “What’s with the hush.” 

Love’s not a flutter or actions we share,
It’s the essence of warmth, a breath of fresh air.
The world’s harsh enemies and actions make embarrassment creep near…

I am from buttons that change the channel,

From green slimy soap and a mushy sponge,

I am from the carefully placed wooden bridge

And cold, gray stone slabs way out in no man’s land,

I am from snow frosted trees that go on for miles.

The aging dead forest...

Some

dangerously

dark eyes assessed

me

a hint

of ruby

I can see

A long, long time ago, the sky was not made of color. It sat in the air, plain and white, covering the whole world as if it were a blanket. South of what is now called Albuquerque, rested the Casha people. The children were berry pickers, while the adults were hunters. This strategy of work satisfied all the community because the children adored the beautiful colors the berries produced. There were the darkest of reds and the brightest of purples.

There is nowhere to hide
in the light of day
Because even in the shadows
There are always people watching.

We go about our days
Carefully obeying the laws of light,
Performing ordinary tasks,
Keeping the peace for another day’s work

It was the first night I had not had a home. Was there any safe place for me to sleep? I knew our church was always unlocked for anyone who needed a warm place to stay at night. I curled up on a pew and thought about how I needed to fix my mess…