“A Place to Share”

If you enjoy the satisfaction and creative experience of writing, this site is designed especially for you. Please consider contributing any poems, or musings or short stories to this site for other members in the network to read – no critique, no judgment – just a sharing of thoughts and stories that are meaningful to you – what’s in your heart and mind.

Simply email your writings to mariemirabella@gmail.com and they will be published on “A Place to Share”


I am real happy that I finally found a way to read Space Cruiser Inquiry cover to cover… I have never been able to sit with the paperback copy and read and absorb it for any period of time over the years.  I typically have been able to just read a page here and there along the way.  I got an ap for Kindle that reads the book to me in a computer voice.  I can read along with my eyes as she makes the words audible…  this is really really working for me.
A quote from my reading this morning that I want to share… I am sharing it because I often think of the mommy/parent issue as Being MINE.. MY Issue… of course I don’t want to share that issue any more than I want to share my Mommy… ;o)
“the unconscious longing for parental guidance continues to dominate the soul’s journey through life.  From this level, the soul, as it develops, appears undirected, ignorant, and therefore in need of external guidance.  As long as our orientation goes outward in order to seek meaning and direction, we will be unable to recognize the optimizing force that is already operating within us.  True guidance appears only when we are willing to value our own experience as it is, and in that way attune ourselves to the signs and messages of optimization that are always present in the field of our experience.” – Space Cruiser Inquiry by AH Almaas
in my life I have had glimpses of the messages of optimization that have always been present and as a child I was unable to listen because of parental authority… I feel like I am in a place of exploring the space allowing myself the space to attune to the optimizing force, I feel it more and more each day and am finding more and more comfort sitting with it (it seems that is where meditation comes in as a necessary tool for me).  The struggles that I experience are the resistance, fears, and habits that I have used to falsely protect myself..
When did the yearning begin?
The first tremulous awareness that more than four walls of my self-imposed prison existed.
Balanced on the threshold and ready to gently push open the door and step into the SUN!
A world of sights and senses and smells – music to be heard, emotions to be aroused, dancing to be done  –  toes pointed and ready to jete.
The anticipation, the excitement ………..  the hesitation, the restraint, the fear, the downward spiral into that ” safe ” place.
Courage awaits another day.



Your room was the temple
Your bed was the alter.
I offered it all
To the god I found there.
As pillars surrounded
And shone brilliant light
Across your face and your soft golden hair.

Blue eyes that could see me
But you looked somehow through me
And no words of love would you dare.
Is it just that you left me
When once you’d undressed me
For places that no one could share.

But the dances at midnight
Played out by firelight
Our souls they did mingle and play
And still in the daylight
The morning with  bright light,
Would make some things so  hard to say.

But there, at your alter
I found in your stare
Such beauty and purity
That I’d never dare,
To believe I could ever possess.
And me bringing offerings
So many precious things,
My lips are ashamed to confess.

The sacred was all there
Clear as the stars
As they shone on that dark mountain lake.
When we were all tucked away
The loons they did sing and play
And heaven and earth we would shake
Yeah, heaven and earth it would shake.

I’ve returned to my garden
So filled up with longing
For all that I left at your feet
My pride and my hope and the faith that I had
But the moonlight will make me complete.

So, I’ll wait alone now,
And I’ll believe somehow
It’s written as “what should have been”,
And struggling to feel whole
And raped of my own soul
I’ll choose to repent from my sin.

For I know it’s ALL in ME
This presence and purity
That’s how it ALL came to be.
This expression of holiness
Poured out on your alter, yes,
On a god who could just never see….
You’re as god, but you just couldn’t see.

Molly Kreiley
May, 2013


Why we love (or my Friday night thoughts)

Why do we love,,, at all ?
That intoxicating, swirling reality that can’t be put into words.
The one thing that some cannot live without.
Is it simply because, we cannot live without…ourselves.

I’ve heard it said that “to love is to recognize yourself in another”.
That we love those that only provide a mirror for us to better see our real selves.
Sometimes when we love someone they inspire us to be “better”, our “higher selves”.I contend that we would not even recognize that “better”, “higher self”, if we were not ALREADY that thing.

I think this is the greatest reason why we so often feel as if we have “lost ourselves” when we lose a great love.
We have really only lost the vision of ourselves  that the lover allowed us to see and… love.
Oh, to carry away from a great love the knowledge that,,, YOU are… all… of…. those…. things,
that you cherished in the beloved. That you can keep on loving them…by loving yourself.
You are the passion that they expressed.
You yourself offered the softest touch and have lain in the moonlight while night creatures moved and sang.
Your own heart has been generous and spontaneous and full of laughter.

The value of a having experienced a great love lies in recognizing this truth.
The pain of a love lost, is in believing that you have lost these things by losing your beloved.
The truth is that you never lose a true love as they always remain a part of you… because they always were.
We are the same.  We are all one.

If one can recognize their OWN beauty and that THEIR true self has been shown to them THROUGH their love,
then they stop grasping onto other lovers.
There can be rest as one realizes that they truly love… themselves.
This is the magic time when others can see their own reflection.
When the waters are still and calm.
When one is unruffled by the storms and the heavy winds,
this is when a new love will become visible…..
Here begins again the great circle of love and “self-realization” and the “falling in love” ensues.
This evolution of souls and spirits.

When we see that our lover was truly a gift to us
when we understand why we loved at all and how they touched us so deeply,
There is humility and gratefulness and such room to stand in awe of it all.
It is all spirit revealing itself.

As the one who loves continues to find and “fall in love” with others, deeper and different things are revealed.
Love also “dies” for this same reason.
Two can cleave and marry for life but unless each continues to develop and grow and provide a mirror for the other of new things that they ALSO are,
the interest and excitement of discovery, of “love”, will die.

Are some already more “in love” with themselves than others?  I would say, yes.
Perhaps these are those of us who don’t feel the drive, the need, the compulsion to “find love”.
Still others find ways to discover themselves without having to recognize it in another.
Some have undoubtedly uncovered their selves and are living in the bliss of that discovery, even unknowingly.
While many of us need to keep seeing our reflections to be reminded of our true selves,
We need to keep discovering and will never stop until we believe it… until we live it.

I think this is why we love at all.
Simply to know…. ourselves.
To know this spirit that lies within, that is the mirror, or image, of God.
We love so that we might know God.



Love and Madness

On the edge of all that I have known, I see the beyond before me.

I see thousands of ways of being.
They are swirling, beckoning, intoxicating in their beauty.
Aware of my truest nature, I am terrified of it’s brilliance.

Looking back there is the darkest night, no comfort for me.
Looking in, can I trust what I find, believe what I know, to carry me forward into what I see?
Looking out, over the edge of my known world,
There is sweet surrender and a lightness of being whose lift is able to carry me,
If spread my wings and welcome the morning of my soul.

You say I am “crazy”.  You say I seem “stressed”.  You say “just calm down”.
How can I convey to you that fresh dawn has stirred me in the secret places, where God lives, within my heart .
How can you know that I feel like screaming almost always….that inside I’m like a drowning one gasping for air. Don’t suffocate me with your expectations …your labels…
I see a paradise beyond our shared spaces.
I don’t know when, I don’t know how, and I don’t think I can ever explain why, so that you will understand.
But somehow I must venture forward, and know only that I must trust.

So, excuse me please while I figure this out.
I’m a little scared… a little “stressed”… I’m a little sad about leaving so much behind me in the dark of night.
When my eyes suddenly fill with tears as we speak,
when I hug you a little too tight,
when I fight against the chains you put on me……understand that I’m not crazy, as you say.

I am conflicted and driven, terrified and struggling and awestruck.
I am trying to deafen the call from over the edge so that I can stay here… with you.
Love keeps me here, at the same time that it calls me from all that I have known.
It’s all love…. and madness.

Molly Kreiley



BirdWings by Rumi

Your grief for what you’ve lost lifts a mirror
up to where you’re bravely working.

Expecting the worst, you look, and instead,
here’s the joyful face you’ve been wanting to see.

Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.
if it were always a fist or always stretched open,
you would be paralyzed.

Your deepest presence is in every small contracting
and expanding,
The two as beautifully balanced and coordinated
as birdwings.


What is this?

My imperfect offering
my soul is on the way
She told me i am dying..dying
She told me…Lose your voice and be mute
And then you will hear the ancient voices of children  rise from my children,  your children,  and your children’s children
And she told me : become blind for a while so your infant eyes can open for the first time… again and again
And when you are done being blind become deaf
So you will hear the roaring of tigers  alive in your belly and be ready to unleash their power again and again.
You must become numb for awhile too
And she told me to toss my child away and leave him  on a garbage heap so she could pull him out and bath him in her tears and hold him for the first time again and again. And she said… Taste the bitterness of jealousy and drink the acrid juices of hatred Let them burn through you again and again until there is nothing left but a pile of ashes.  She told me: you must become small and almost  invisible. Turn away from your vanity.. let the judgments  pass through you…
Put the badges of  merit and honor away for a while..  put aside what you cling to and own no thing.. She told me:  sit by the river once again
Touch the willow leaf and put your feet into the icy waters then look for me…You will find me on the mountain pass enshrined with rough stones and adorned with all of your imperfect offerings: colorful ribbons…cheesy plastic crosses and dime store saints.. Lay your gifts down here at my feet.  Yes YOU TOO! The small ones, the big ones, the broken ones.  It’s all the same to me little one.
Lay yourself down by the river again and again. And I will turn it all into gold….


When did the ” us ” change to ” you and me ”

Was it when I saw the daisies flower – and you saw dandelions

Was it when I danced with the fireflies in the night skies – and you looked for citronella

Was it when you took a left turn – and I walked straight ahead

Or was it when you felt hatred and despair – and I found peace and forgiveness


For much of the winter the desert exhibits subtle shades of pale green and tan with a few vermilion pinks thrown in for a little variety when the sun sets on the mountains to our east.  Some may find this boring.  In fact my first winter in Arizona I found myself yearning for some more dramatic colors.  Where were all those exciting shades of green that you find in the northeast?  Shades like sap green, grass green, juniper green or cedar green.  But by early to mid-March  there is a transformation and suddenly all those “boring” colors change their tune.  No longer confined to their drab winter coats, the cacti burst forth in vibrant shades of yellow, pink, orange, and red.  Acacia trees display a riot of yellow blossoms while the Mesquites are covered in tender, tiny, dancing, green leaves. The Aleppo pine outside our patio is .swathed in delicious brown blossoms that will soon turn into pine cones.  Pink Penstamin and bright yellow Poppies carpet the grounds near our villa.  Of course this renewal is happening all over the northern hemisphere – it’s just a different renewal depending on where you are at the time of this annual “new beginning”.


Who will I tell of the first robin in the Spring?

Who will I tell when the leaves change colours in the Fall?

Who will I tell when I make my first angel in the snow?

His sweet, sweet smile – just a memory

Who will I tell?


Sleep eluded me so I found myself on the front porch step @ 3:45AM this morning.

The moon was wrapped in a halo and bathed the street in an almost iridescent light.

The aroma of morning dew on the grass, the fragrance of pine bark, loamy earth and lavender wands was intoxicating. Willow Creek Lane was almost magical.

And then, out of the silence of the night, I heard the click, click, click of hooves on the pavement. And an eight point buck emerged from the mist – silhouetted against the moonlight, proud and regal, the breath from his nostrils creating ribbons of movement in the still air.

And just as suddenly as he emerged – he disappeared, making me wonder if he ever existed al all. What is it about Florida that has captured my heart? Could it be the soft, gray, wispy Spanish moss that seems to cling to every tree and float like a ghost in the slightest breeze?

Or maybe it’s the lone owl who greets me as I head out for a walk in the semi-dark, early morning hours.

Perhaps it’s the first scent of sea salt air as we’re driving across the Courtney-Campbell Causeway, our heads hanging out the car windows and our ears flapping in the wind!

Or the anticipation of finding that one perfect shell in the warm sand on the beach.

OR, just maybe, it’s the absence of stress!


“A Place to Share” – created October 2, 2013