How I Discovered My Soul Mate

How I Discovered My Soul Mate

A reimagining of what it means to fall in love


Particularly in the winter, I often forget about the following poem which I wrote over three years ago. I forget the importance of looking for little joys and beautiful things in the midst of what may seem a cold and unforgiving season. I forget that there is beauty in life itself and the simple fact of existence. I forget to take a step back and appreciate that I wake up every morning and have a chance to experience and see so many good things if my eyes and heart are willing. I forget because it is so easy to forget in the midst of such a busy, distracting, demanding world. But, when I forget, I reread this poem and I remember. I hope it helps you remember too.

My Soul Mate

today, driving in the car,

I realized how often I fall in love.

I fell in love with the dump truck adorned with artistic Graffiti,

dear mobile expression, I am in love with you.

I fell in love with a lucky shuffle of Songs,

dear harmonic crash, I am in love with you.

I fell in love with the Homeless man I noticed reading under an overpass,

dear rich soul, I am in love with you.

I fell in love with a perfectly timed text Message,

dear startling honesty, I am in love with you.

I fell in love with the Man who let me in front of him in traffic,

dear blonde kindness, I am in love with you.

I fell in love with a warm Shirt on a mid-october day,

dear red comfort, I am in love with you.

I fell in love with a Story of lonely pain,

dear contemplative pages, I am in love with you.

dear Life, dear World, dear Universe, I am in love with you.

at every Moment, I fall deeper into it

and I realize what love is, and how lucky I am

to fall in love

with Universe - who remains fervently willing to give;

with World - who offers opportunity in the form of the unknown;

with Life - who so imperfectly, yet so completely, loves me back.

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Growing Up Catholic And How It Shaped Me

"I like being able to believe there is more to life than our time on Earth."


Ever since I can remember, I have attended church every Sunday morning. Not always at the same church, but always at the same time with all the same people. I've never known anything different.

Both of my parents are Catholic and so are their parents and so on and so forth. I attended religious education classes my whole childhood and when I was 15, I chose to get confirmed which basically says you are choosing to continue your faith.

As a kid, I didn't really understand why we went to church every Sunday and there were some Sundays where I just didn't want to get out of bed to go. When I'm on the verge of not going to mass I tell myself that it is just 1 hour of my time, 1 hour each week and that is all I have to give. Everyone has 1 hour to spare.

Now that I am older, I'm grateful my parents have introduced me to the Catholic Church. I like having something to believe in and being able to have faith. I'm a huge optimist in my daily life and a big part of that is because I trust God's plan for me, whatever happens is with his best intentions for me. I like being able to believe there is more to life than our time on Earth.

It seems that the word "Catholic" has a negative connotation nowadays and that makes me extremely sad. No one should be judged or profiled based on their religion.

Being Catholic to me means always striving to better myself and bring myself closer to God. Being Catholic might mean something else to another person and that's what is great about religion and faith, they affect everyone differently and it is up to you to decide what to do with these 2 things.

At the end of the day, I am grateful for being brought up in the Catholic family I was because it gave me my morals and made me the person I am today, whom I am proud of.

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When Did I Stop?

How growing up can stifle you


As I grow older, the world seems to grow less and less vibrant. I find myself feeling as though my body is always exhausted, my mind clouded, and my emotions muffled. This poem attempts to capture that feeling, particularly with the imagery of a "small girl" who is trapped in a cage in my mind. This girl represents the freedom of expression that many people experience in their childhood. As children, people do not hesitate to cry, yell, fight, or say whatever thought or opinion pops into their head. The older I grow, the more hesitant I am to do those things. While this is not necessarily a negative development in my life, sometimes it can feel very confining. I hope that this poem conveys that feeling.

When did I stop?

when did I stop being able to speak?

why does every sentence clumsily spill out of my mouth, out of order in slippery slurs?

when did my body stop feeling?

why does every kiss feel like a mechanical routine of touch, tongues like penetrative cardboard?

when did my eyes stop crying?

why do I weep only in dreams, dreams when everyone dies, but not when I wake and notice those same people slowly being driven to death?

when did I stop fighting?

why do I sit silently, slightly grinning and shaking my head in hopeless acceptance of the evil they spit out their mouths?

So each year adds another layer

caging that small girl in my mind who used to dance in my tears

she doesn't get to dance anymore

memories and experiences are shoved in through my ears, filling my head

the cage walls crash in around her now

I become a wandering animal, untouched, wearily indifferent,

simply a fortress trapping that spirit who used to frolic through my thoughts, my emotions, my tears

and even if someone were to tear through her shackles,

would she even remember how to dance anymore?

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