Time Out for Fresh Air.

October 19, 2020

This series is complete and now I’m ready for a time out. The smoke is finally clearing and the forecast is for brighter days and fresh air! Wishing you all a wonderful week ahead.


I Love You. I Divorce You. I Set You Free.

Falling in Love With You.

A Man Named Joshua.

The Long Journey Home.

Smiling, A New Day Dawns.

Act 1. Scene 1. “Other People’s Words”

The Dark Light of the Soul

Thank you for reading and for all the wonderful encouragement. I appreciate the opportunity to share these words of hope and healing with you. May God bless us all.

The Dark Light of the Soul

October 18, 2020

Continued from Act 1. Scene 1. “Other People’s Words”

The Dark Light of the Soul

She awoke with a start.

“Where am I?” Allowing her eyes a moment to adjust to the pale moonlight shining on her new surroundings, “I’ve been writing in my sleep again. And my bladder is full! Now. Where is the bathroom?”

Careful not to trip ove—“Ooh ouch! That’s going to leave a reminder” boxes full of memories waiting to be rediscovered, “I won’t soon forget.” Rising up from her knees, feeling along the wall, “Here we are.” Sitting down on the commode, “Ahh, relief.”

Alone in the dark recalling her dream, “So tell me about you. What’s your name?”

Hi. My name is Nina. I was abused as a child. Emotionally. Sexually. Severely.

This may account for some of the more bizarre behaviors I displayed growing up.

See how they run…”

I was a fool to think you could ever love me broken and damaged as I am. Never could I ever fill your image of me…as much as I wanted to be…to please you.

I don’t remember when it started.

He would come late at night into my room—quietly,

So as not to disturb me. And

As if in a dream

I would find myself

As I am now

On the commode

Panties around my ankles.

It all seemed so perfectly innocent until

One day I learned

The awful truth.

She came bursting through the door horrified at the scene—

Screaming at us


That same day I lost


My parents.

That same day my family relocated to Hell.

And there was I raised, trained in secrecy

To hide my family’s shame.

What more would you like to know about me?

My name is Nina and I am in recovery


My family’s shame.

I am learning to unlearn the damage that was done—It is finished! And in me

The cycle of abuse is broken…

You may love me

Or leave me

I don’t take it personally. After all

Most of us are simply human

While some of us are gods.

But who can escape judgment day?

I don’t ask for your sympathy or your understanding.

I hope you



What life in

Hell was

For me.

I don’t speak now for myself because

Even as I speak


There is one who is


And one who is


Both lives broken.

And somewhere there is one who thinks her life no longer matters—but these words won’t reach her in time.

Hold on. Your life IS a miracle. You matter. You will see.

And here I am alone reaching into

The dark light of my soul

Pulling up my big girl pants

Reclaiming what was lost,

Re-visioning my self in

Your divine image:

A woman





Good morning. My name is Nina and these words won’t write themselves.


Thank you for reading.

Act 1. Scene 1. “Other People’s Words”

October 17, 2020

Continued from Smiling, A New Day Dawns.

Act 1. Scene 1.

The setting: A bookstore in a slightly seedy section of downtown where artists and poets meet to argue the meaning of life.

A well lit university library.

Act 1. Scene 1. “Other People’s Words”

The setting: A ‘hole in the wall’ bookstore where some broken souls go to find pieces of their missing selves in other people’s words.

She: A plain but pretty young woman of about 20 years old wearing a thick gray oversized sweater (reminiscent of a cocoon) and a black fedora hat. She sits cross legged on the floor somewhere between the “Self-Help” and “Eastern Philosophy” aisle. On her lap is a selection of books from which she reads the tables of contents. While she minds her own business, at the same time she watches the comings and goings.

He: Also a plain, handsome and slightly melancholic young man; he enters from stage left wearing a dark trench coat.. He is quickly scanning the shelves looking for a particular book that he can’t seem to find. Rounding the corner, absorbed in his mission—he nearly trips over her.

He: (With surprise) “Oh hey, I didn’t see you there! I almost fell over you!”

She: (Looking up noticing the color of his blue/green eyes, she smiles) “Hi.”

He: (Awkwardly regaining his composure, looking down at her lap, pointing to the book on top) “What a strange coincidence. You have the book I’ve been looking for!”

Falling Down the Mountain: Yoga in the 21st Century by NZain.

She: (Without averting her eyes, hands him said book and for a brief moment—they touch.)

Her thoughts: (Inwardly) Something in him just touched something in me as I felt his fingers brush against mine. Something electrifying…or perhaps he just touched a nerve? I am curious about this stranger. He seems so familiar.

He: (Now gazing at her intensely) “Thank you. That’s very kind of you…seem so familiar to me. Have we met before?”

And then from the “Politics and Religion” aisle, several voices (two females and a male) could be heard shouting and making violent accusations.

He: (Turning in the direction of the shouting and then back to her) “Would you like get a cup of coffee? (Hand to his heart) My treat.”

She: (Nodding, leaving her books behind, she rises to meet his outstretched hand)

Together, she and the stranger, exit the bookstore. He instinctively puts a protective arm around her shoulder as they cross the busy street.

Act 1. Scene 2. “The Cafe Across the Street.”

The setting: A bustling cafe with large armchairs and an even larger pastry selection.

She: (Stepping up to the counter) “Cappuccino, please.”

He: “Two. And a slice of your dark chocolate salted caramel pie…two forks?” (turning towards her shrugging his shoulders with a boyish grin) “I have a sweet tooth.”

She: (Blushing) “Me too.”

Her thoughts: In this light his eyes appear gray…

They spy two vacant armchairs by the front window over-looking the busy street. As they begin to make their way, the stranger’s cell-phone rings. He nearly drops his cappuccino. She watches him intently. Is that a bead of sweat on his forehead? She surmises the caller must either be a woman or a bill collector.

He: (Putting his cappuccino down on the table and with a nervous smile) “Will you excuse me for just a moment? I need to take this call. (with a reassuring look) I’ll be right back.”

He moves to the far window and looking around, puts the phone to his ear and tucks into his trench coat collar.

She sinks into the oversized chair while a cafe server places an oversized slice of pie on the table.

Sever: (Attempting humor) “We call this the ‘Addict’s Crack’ pie. Enjoy!”

She glances up from under her fedora at the stranger. He sees her, nods and turns away. It’s then she notices, as he brushes his hand through his tousled hair, he is wearing a mood ring the same color as his hazel eyes.

Her thoughts: How odd and sweet. A mood ring. I should probably leave now, but…there’s just something about him I need to know more.

He: (Making a point to turn off his phone) “I’m sorry about that. My EX calling to let me know–”

She: “Is she pretty?”

He: (With a sigh of relief) “Before the relapse. Yes. She was very pretty, but meth is an ugly drug.”

She: “And it’s hard for you to let her go?”

He: “Incredible. You seem to understand me so well and I don’t even know your name! (nervous laughter) “It must be fate that brought you and I together…”

He continues to talk about this and that while she slowly and methodically moves a forkful of pie to her mouth.

He: “…so tell me about you. What’s your name?”

She: (WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!) “Mmm…this is really good pie.”

She awakes with a start. “Where am I?” Allowing her eyes a moment to adjust to the pale moonlight shining on her new surroundings, “I’ve been writing in my sleep again and my bladder is full. Now… (she looks around) where is the bathroom?”

–NZain 💓

Thank you for reading. Your thoughtful comments are always welcomed and appreciated.

The Long Journey Home.

October 14, 2020

Continued from A Man Named Joshua.

The Long Journey Home.

She drove for hours letting the distance between them sink deep into her body.

Worn out, she turns up an old country road, passes a few colorful mailboxes and finally (with an inhale) arrives at her destination; the late autumn sun casts a warm glow through the kitchen window. She is home.

Home: a tidy well kept cottage in the woods with an old split rail fence and a porch swing.

This would be for a time her refuge from a world she could no longer recognize.

The dissolution of marriage, not a thing to be taken lightly, affecting both family and friends–the breakdown of the home, disrupting the community–but how can one stay…?

Love can’t be forced.

And in the heat of the argument (oh how they know each other’s raw tender spots!) she finally erupts, “So divorce me if then you are unhappy!”

Set me free.

This is how she came to be, standing alone at the front door of an empty house, recalling kind words offered to her in support by a trusted colleague.

Words that for her now become prayer.

It’s time to pick my heart. I have the key, forward will be the momentum. One step in front of the other, my heart will go on!”*

With key in hand, she unlocks the door as the last light of day rounds the corner. Exhausted, putting one foot in front of the other, she collapses inside, whispering (to no one but herself) as she falls into a deep sleep, “my heart will go on…”

–NZain 💓

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts are always welcome here.

*Thank you, Warren.

A Man Named Joshua.

October 12, 2020

Continued from Falling in Love With You.

Now, sitting in her car she wonders aloud, “Dear Lord, is there one man in this whole broken world who—“

She stops herself from saying the words wrestling within her heart and instead finishes, “…who can help me write the next line?”

With a sigh she turns towards her companion—a box of books sitting next to her on the passenger seat—and as she is known to do in difficult times, she takes the book on top, closes her eyes, and opens up to a random page.

“John 10:34 Jesus answered them, ‘Is it not written in your law, I said, Ye are gods?’”

With a chuckle on the exhale and a note to the side, Psalm 82, “This will certainly do!” She exclaims.

And then a gentle reminder to herself, “One step at a time…turn on the ignition, put the car in drive, foot off the brakes and now give it some gas. Goodbye my love…”


Thank you for reading. Your thoughts are always welcome here.

Falling in Love With You.

October 12, 2020

Continued from I Love You. I Divorce You. I Set You Free.

She gathered her belongings, shook her head and quietly laughed, “When did I collect so much yarn and what was I planning to make that I still have yet to crochet?”

And then, she recalled those fateful words he said to her so many years ago, “I think I’m falling in love with you…”

Now, no longer afraid to speak her peace, or questioning whether her words have lost their relevancy—she pens a quick note:

What’s the point

Holding onto your painful past memories when

Here we are in this present moment and

You will never have this time with me again?

You grieved for her then.

Now, will you also grieve for me?

I hope your heart may heal from all the hurt it has ever known and may you learn to walk in love without ‘falling’…with your heart as clear and open as your eyes, able to offer the best of yourself and able to receive the best of love. I hope this for me too. May it be in peace.

Tucking her note into his lone coffee mug, looking around the kitchen (where together they spent so much of their time) one last time—she walks away.

And now, sitting in her car she wonders aloud, “Dear Lord, is there one man in this whole broken world who—“

She stops herself from saying out loud the words wrestling inside her heart and instead finishes, “…who can help me write the next line?”


I Love You. I Divorce You. I Set You Free.

October 10, 2020

This is the first chapter of a new series I am currently writing. May it be in peace.

You made me feel so good.”

Until the affects wore off

As all drugs do

After a time…

I love you. I divorce you. I set you free.

Two kids, broken and damaged, met one fateful day—a perfect match.

Disregarding all wisdom—throwing caution right out the front door—they married.

And then, slowly over time, realizing (having shut themselves in)—

I love you. I divorce you. I set you free.

As they, together,

Cautiously pushed the door open—at first just a peak—light came streaming into

The home they,

Together, built upon a shaky foundation.

And as they, together,

Stepped outside—

The whole thing came crashing down! However, they


Were safe.

No longer two kids broken and damaged—just simply two humans—perfectly matched; he turns to her, “I am sorry.” And she in return, “Me too.”

I love you. I divorce you. I set you free.

As the dust began to settle and as far as they could see—

All around them a garden full of weeds.

Weeds they had sown. Together.

Bitter weeds. Medicinal weeds. Weeds that must be pulled up by their deep taproots, carefully brewed into a powerful decoction, taken internally (with caution) and sipped slowly so as to savor each painful drop. Drop by bitter drop—no sugar coated words—truth is already sweet enough: medicine goes where medicine is needed.

Now I am free to speak my peace—truth held clenched in my throat—by my own hands.

“Thank you.” She turns to him and smiles.

And he in return, “I love you. I divorce you. I set you free.”

(divorce: from the Latin dīvertere—to depart)

Where the path diverts he stands to one side and she is free to make her own choice—which way she will go?


Your thoughts are always welcome here. Thank you for reading.