9/2025
“The Wilder Road”
Creativity, to me, is best exhumed from the depths of my imagination and carved, shaped, and developed over time. It is allowed to organically age, and to take a life of its own, to evolve at its own pace.
I’ve learned it is not a tap, with an on and off flow, but an ocean, with a changing tide, ruled by external forces, that always swirls and churns in its own rhythmic pattern. Just like nature, when too much control is applied, it will push back. Yet, when allowed, nourished, accepted - the wilder road taken - it always tends to bring you up along the shores where you need to go.
Nearly all projects I undertake, follow this motion: briefly cresting to the light of day, then plunging beneath the surface, as I search for new discoveries, see new depths, and, eventually, come to a position of a heightened or more nuanced level of understanding.
More than an effort of sheer generation, I create through collecting, fusing, merging, melding, refining, reflecting, failing, breaking, deleting, editing, and sometimes, starting over again. It is simply a process of returning, with greater curiosity and humility each time.
Which brings me to the point of what you are reading.
This publication, collection, whatever it is and becomes, does not set out to accomplish anything more than allowing this process, and part of my life, a place to breath. Like a cartographer charting the stars while on the open seas, here we’re mapping the journey while on it. The steps, the detours, the fragments, moments, inspirations, and senses of wonderment that come with turning over some stones, leaving others be, and venturing for the sake of exploration itself.
Along the way, some destinations will be met, some meaning may be discovered, but I go without really knowing. Without whole confirmation. Just with the hope that the slow, often solo, often silent tiptoes in some direction, can lay the path for great discoveries and lovely forms of creation.
Thank you for even entertaining the notion of being on this with me. As you read, expect this to evolve, to change, to ebb and flow, to be on course, then off course, reach somewhere, only to depart it.
The truth is, there is never a final destination. But, through it, I will try to explain, I will try to be your guide, and hopefully, it will just be some fun too.
All to be taken with your healthiest dose, and favorite grain of salt.
CONTENTS
CREATIONS
POEMS, OLD & NEW
ADVENTURES
NEW BOOTS
STUDIES
BOOKS TO THE YEAR
LOST TO GREECE
POEMS, OLD & NEW
precious
that which is rare
may be sumptuous to wear
but the world’s perfumes, silk, jewels
could never compare
to the richness and care
when a loving heart is shared
fields
if every closeted romantic
laid their heart bare
imagine the blooming
On Poetry
I’ve found writing poetry to be a very relaxing, often therapeutic practice. As someone who has spent years writing large academic essays, it is less intimidating and much more liberating with fewer words to put into place. Truthfully, most of what I’ve written to date has been inspired by the unexplored frontiers of my own emotional landscape. It is the process of trying to convey how I’m feeling, to ask the reader to perhaps lean into feeling it too, but to do so without telling them directly. It’s a gentle encouragement to go one step deeper, to take a peer around the corner, and see if there is anything worthwhile or new on the other side.
Above, you will find two poems I wrote earlier this year as part of an ongoing “anthology of words” I’ve been working on titled: lost & found. They are very short and sweet, but with that, get to take up space with the language’s imagery. While ‘precious’ utilizes rich, indulgent language to convey said effect, ‘fields’ is a more about capturing potential and hope through a wide angle lens. (I think a critic once called Luca Guadagnino’s filmmaking style ‘indulgent’... I think it’s one of the best adjectives). While, both poems attempt at some profoundness, they’re much more about optimism and reclaiming a belief in the goodness of things, rather than making a sharp statement.
(More and more, I have found myself to confronting my inner optimist, as both a way to remain upright in a challenging world, and because it’s become a surprising byproduct of learning to stand on my own two feet. It asks of me, and of whoever reads it: what could happen if we all allowed ourselves to share our loves, dreams, romances more? What would the world look like?)
And as a newer experiment, I’ve also had some fun experimenting with something you could call more ‘lyrical’ in style (though I don’t think this is proper terminology). Inspired by the intriguing ability for frankness to cut through complicated or cloudy emotional landscapes, these ones always start with one cheeky line that plays lightly within an otherwise messy space. And, I adopt a punctuated rhythm and rhyme scheme in an attempt to add in even more structure around the mess.
The poem below describes feelings left in the air when a disjointed relationship finally breaks down. And, more specifically, how, in its wake, you may go about trying to rid yourself of all of your flaws, as if to intellectualize the disjointedness. I have it in two variations, variation A, which is, in many ways the aspirational version. It is the superficial ‘success’ of demonstrating you weren’t a part of the problem at all. It is cutting and clean. Variation B, evokes a more complex (and in my opinion, more emotional apt) portrait of the circumstance. Enjoy.
sorry A
i cut my hair,
and purged all my vices.
scattered daisies,
at your doorstep.
conquered my soul,
with the mind’s devices.
i threw a blanket
over age old shatters.
that pierce sharp as glass.
smoothing, polishing, sweetening.
all so one day,
i could say:
“look i’ve changed,
that was all the past.”
but
i’m still not a breakfast person.
for this i can’t find blame
i prefer to take my coffee,
strong,
and without a hint of shame.
sorry B
i cut my hair,
and tried to purge my vices.
scattered daisies,
at your doorstep.
clamped down my soul,
with the mind’s devices.
i slung a blanket
over age old shatters.
still, they pierced right though,
sharp as glass.
all hope of
smoothing, polishing, sweetening,
disappeared.
i guess i can’t say:
“look i’ve changed,
or
“that was all the past.”
i may not be a breakfast person.
i seek shelter when it rains.
i drown my coffee in full fat milk,
and do feel sorry,
even when I’m not to blame.
NEW BOOTS
“Perhaps I’ll be nothing I thought I’d be.
And perhaps that’s okay.”
I can’t speak for anyone but myself, but I have some inkling that many of us move around the world with some degree of expectation around what our lives must look like and struggle if that expectation isn’t met in a timely manner. As someone who has always set lofty expectations upon myself, I think about this a lot.
Somewhere, there lies a rich trove of buried dreams of things I said I would do, but didn’t, and probably, I never will. Or, maybe, they’re just in hibernation, who knows. Either way, this isn’t a sad thing. Most of the things that never transpired have allowed better things to do come through: surprises, relationships, opportunities that I could have never pictured. So, again, this isn’t a sad story.
However, there are times when one can feel a little stuck in the mud, and when it can be worthwhile to reach into the chest and see if there’s a small piece or two worth the effort of excavation. It may not be the life overhaul, usually it isn’t, but it’s adding in a new adventure here or there, or following up on a gut feel thread that was calling some time ago.
In my case, one of these pieces was going to ride a horse. I’m not sure why exactly, but several months ago, I started getting this little inkling, (as many of my friends were moving and traveling to new, far, and distant places), where I was just like F it if I’m going to live in the Midwest that means I gotta go ride a horse.
Of course, I talked myself out of it for a while, mainly because doing it alone was really a scary thought. I’ve ridden horses before, and feel comfortable doing so, but it was the idea of going somewhere new, alone (I knew I had to do it solo from the beginning), driving there, again, by myself, that really held me back.
But, this month, after much back and forth, I mustered up the courage to throw on a pair of boots, get in my car, drive to the country, and put myself in the saddle, quite literally.
The adventure delighted and surprised me in so many new ways. From driving up and over the rolling hills of country roads, flanked by rows, and rows, and I mean rows, of corn fields on either side; putting my windows down with some delightful jazzy girl pop playing to the wind; and most importantly, feeling confident to turn onto a dirt road in the morning sun and head out on a trail ride, years ago, I never would have imagined this life for myself.
Everything that happened that day, the sense of wonder, the courage, the adventurous spirit, would not have occurred if I’d lived in exact accordance to plan, if I had not allowed life to detour me down new roads and in other directions. There’s a fortification of character with the unknown, and continuing to face it, endure it, and embrace it.
Which, brings me back to the quote at the top: “Perhaps I’ll be nothing I thought I’d be. And perhaps that’s okay.” I wrote this in my notes over coffee on the drive up to the farm, and I feel like I was on to something. If anyone asks, I’m in the market for a new pair of boots. New paths to wander and mud to stomp through.
BOOKS TO THE YEAR
I derive so much creative energy and joy from books. The worlds that are crafted and the way one’s imagination can run wild. I’ve certainly leaned heavily into the romance/fantasy genre, like most every other woman my age, and I have to say, as embarrassing or cliché as it all may be, it’s well, well worth the entertainment. Behold everything I’ve read thus far in 2025:
LOST TO GREECE
On a more educational note, I’ve been craving Greece as of late. Think fresh fish and salad by the sea, olive oil head to toe, a cool dip in the Aegean (especially when its been 95° through September). With all the daydreaming and wonderment, I thought it may be worthwhile to indulge in a long, long, trip down Greece’s memory lane.
So, I decided to spend my summer leisure time watching a 26:08:89 hour long lecture series on Ancient Greece.
If you’re someone who spends your mornings contemplating the different variants on democracy? I’m your girl. Or if you frequently contemplate the distinctions between the Archaic and Classical periods or the lead up to Alexander the Great’s ‘greatness’… let me know.
Is it cliché of it is me to say that my summer Roman Empire has been in fact where it began… Greece…
I’ve picked up a copy of Histories for continuing my education into October, and you know, as a short pause before all the Romantasy sequels hit in November! Stay tuned :)
Projects referenced
