BP Naturally

My Drug-Free Journey of Managing Bipolar Disorder

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Journal: New Bike, New Experiences

http://goo.gl/iKGkgZ – Chorus of Blue

I recently got a bike. Its exciting, really. Its been a while since I’ve ridden a bike and, being that I don’t drive these days, a bike offers a whole new level of freedom and independence for me. I’m riding more and more frequently, as my behind gets used to the excruciating pain of riding for the first time in years (yes, I’m ordering a new seat), and hope to eventually explore new areas of Wichita, find new inspiration, and maybe even join some writers circles and workshops! Being homebound has been a real hampering on my writing, so I’m really praying biking makes a big difference.

Naturally, at this point, I’m thinking of all the many ways I plan to customize my bike to fit my style and needs. Currently, its a Schwinn hybrid in light blue, stock everything. Oh, but how it yearns to be an iridescent cream color with brown leather & wood accents! I’m seeing wooden baskets, leather bags, a little bell, all kinds if fun stuff… So it’s a project in the making, I suppose, and I can’t wait to get started!

Will it affect my writing? Maaan, I hope so. Freedom, new adventures and the scent of leather always seem like a good start. ;)

This post is a part of the #tenminutes series, a challenge to write for ten minutes, every day, no matter what. To learn more visit: Ten Minute Challenge and join the movement!

“Fiction: Travel” –  Write a story about a group of friends traveling on a road trip. Where do they stop? What is the purpose of the road trip? Who do they end up meeting along the way?

“Poetry: Travel” – Write a poem about some of your most memorable experiences while in a transit. This can include experiences on a bike, skateboard, bus, subway, train, airplane or in a car. Ready? Set. Write forth! #tenminutes


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Poem: An Intimate Knowledge

http://goo.gl/0Qe2LB – Chorus of Blue

Although I know its not necessary
to know the name of each bird,
Their distinct calls:
Chirp, shrill, twitter, caw, whoop, tweet, whistle, wail

Or the name of the soft green grass beneath me
Or the genus of these familiar jagged-leaved weeds
Evergreen needles, long purple blooms
The gray versus the brownish-gray squirrel
These flat stacking stones
The strange blood red bugs with frightening shells

Although I know it is not necessary
I mourn it still:
my ignorance.

And wish I knew more for the sake of reflection
More of the difference between cement and concrete
More about iron and brass and steel
And the exact difference in degrees from sun to shade
And how vast it is upon the waiting body.

I wish I knew more to say with greater scientific accuracy
How beautiful, or still, or moist, or loud, or certain nature is.
How much more powerfully it can be received if we know, with precision,
the how and why or what and when.

But there is something contrived in a poem that seeks to teach
And something sentient in one that only reflects
with whatever limited knowledge and whatever searching senses
it is driven from, within.

So it is simply that a field
of tiny palm-sized birds
pick in the grass beside me
Keeping a safe distance
Always aware.

And they rise at once
As a single fluttering body
And alight in a low tree
Wary of a danger
I do not know is there.

Or the pair of young squirrels
their little claws scratching
against the tree trunk,
as they frolic in their play.

Or the dance of bugs above me
Swirling all about me
Green or black or pale white wings,
lazy in a sun-lit sway.

It is each single blade of grass
shuttering in the breeze
Shading the soft, moist soil beneath

It is the whisp of spider webs
Shining in the autumn sun
Caressing my bare, white feet

It is all of this:
Just as you might imagine it,
Sweet and full of intent.

It is all of this
And I cannot say more
of its sweetness

than your own listening heart
might have said.


This post is a part of the #tenminutes series, a challenge to write for ten minutes, every day, no matter what. To learn more visit: Ten Minute Challenge and join the movement!

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Poem: Business as Usual

http://goo.gl/qU4jTd – Chorus of Blue

I wake up and want to write.

Pull on my favorite gray sweater
Brew a cup of coffee
Settle into the dirty couch.

There are so many ideas
Thoughts running through my head
And I tiptoe across the keyboard
Hoping to keep the house quiet.

I recount dreams
Blog, Edit, Repost.
Type without much thought
Building habits in the quiet.

But gradually children wake up
As I knew they would
And I try to give the sense that
I don’t want to be bothered today

Today I am writing, children.
And you should work things out for yourselves.

But they see my silence
My short, but soft, answers as a problem:
Do you want me to make you something to eat?

Or an invitation:
Mommy, I woke up with all these birds outside my window, and…

Or it goes unnoticed:
Can I eat the leftover chicken from a couple of days ago?

Business as usual.

And that’s the inevitable part of writing, isn’t it?
That your peace will be shattered
Your flow, interrupted.

Whether children or deadlines
Hungry cats or needy husbands


Will be in the way.



This post is part of the Ten Minutes Daily Challenge. Learn more at: Ten Minutes Challenge hosted on Chorus of Blue

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POEM: Mid-air


I can’t sleep
when I think of the distance between us

How we tossle about
without the force of skin to propel
And I long for the miles to shrink
For the moments to become completely visceral
Instead of the constant static
of your voice across time

I rather my blood be beneath your nails
Rather your teeth tear against my skin

Anything but my too many words
that awkward pause–

Your silence.

And I imagine that you would love me more
If we could hold one another
Hope my hands would still swell up with passion
Hope I wouldn’t fall deaf to the drone of you
Know that all my foolish mistakes would be caught mid-air
Before they ever found their way
To your listening heart.

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POEM: I Smile Like the Lonely Sun

I Smile Like the Lonely Sun

I smile like the lonely sun
You do not know
Rays of joy shimmering out
Dancing on the waters of your heart
And I radiate:
reflect me! reflect me! reflect me!
Arms outstretched

What do you hear?

I smile like the lonely sun
You do not know
I burn
to make your cheeks grow bright
In the coolness of a lunar glow
The vast space
of unsaid words
the insufferable dark matter
of our thoughts

I smile like the lonely sun
You do not know.

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POEM: I Will Write of You One Day

I Will Write of You One Day

You recline behind me
the heavy breathing of your half-sleep
At this hour I am not watching you
But this morning
I was

And I awoke with the constant ache
that’s become familiar
I’ve wreaked havoc upon my body
As you will gradually my heart

These are the ways of love
I tell myself
And I watch you
the old-man face you make
the occasional grunt or groan

Already I see us
in forty years
then imagine looking back
remembering how I saw you now

Today we fought
hours passed
You did not come

And when you finally arrived
You didn’t see it my way
I thought hard
regretting the hope

Then peace surfaced
And we laughed
I thought of how I’d write
of you one day

As I’ve done today
But one day it will be
so much more.

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POEM: My Heart Hurts More Because the Pain is Familiar

My Heart Hurts More…

My heart hurts more
Because the pain is familiar
I’ve known what its like
To quell the noisy dream
To leave it to collect dust
To whisper and whither
To think of it only
as a memory

And I’ve given up love
For the sake of devotion
Heard my heart sigh
In misery
My heart hurts more
Because the pain is familiar
I’ve known what its like
To quell the quiet dream

So I fight with a fury
The heart will remember
It does not yield twice
So easily
Its not to say my love
Does not also hold you dearly
But devotion to you
Won’t be the death of me.