Melinda Coppola

twenty four may | from the inside out

Melinda Coppola

twenty four may | from the inside out

About My Blog

I started this blog to quiet the voices in my head and heart that have been whispering and cajoling and sometimes yelling at me to write more.

This is a space where all the parts of me—mother, poet, wife, lover of beach stones and furry creatures and frequent toe-dipper in the river of song, Yoga practitioner, and teacher and she-who-cooks and she-who-makes-art and she-who-loves-silence, where all the parts of me can come out to play.

I started this blog to keep myself engaged in dialogue with my soul. If what I write interests you, educates you, moves you, …well, that’s a beautiful bonus.

Most Recent Blog Post

A Little Bullish

I know, I know. Much is not right here in the world. We conjure and raise up hatreds and fears born of misconceptions. We bow down to profit and convention instead of the goodness in each other. We make wars, first with ourselves, and then with those we call other.

We perpetrate unspeakable violence against the creatures that also claim this land and air and water as their home.

Still, I am lifted and hopeful. It’s not all (or even most) of the time, but I can still find the little red flower growing out of the trash heap. If I get down close to the earth and press my ear to the dry ground I can still hear the stirrings of worms and scuttling bugs. I can still feel the wee, sigh-like stretch of seedlings getting close to breaking through the dirt. I can keep loving their new green hopefulness and joy. So grateful I am, for this.

My default is introversion. Truth is, I am very comfortable in here. But being out and about, not just with the grasses and trees, but also among people, can be life-giving, too.  Shopping for food becomes therapy, when I remember to put PAY ATTENTION on my list, and then take notes.

Notes:

In the subterranean levels of my being, I have a faith/in you, kindly looking woman with two kids in your grocery cart, one of whom is screaming/ in you, silver haired twosome who might be sisters, or friends, or lovers, combing through the bananas to find the perfect combination of yellow and green/in you, ever cheerful cashier who almost always speaks to my daughter as she stands, rocking and scripting, beside me in your line/and/in you, young man with the profane political bumper sticker on the truck you drove here, which may not be yours/truck or sentiment/I have faith in you.

 

—Melinda Coppola

Read More Blog Posts

Rocking the cosmic swirl

Rocking It comforts me to know the old couple across the street just celebrated fifty years in the same house. Fifty together years with the home they perhaps chose to be new in together, a threesome of sorts, their bodies joining brick and hardened earth settling and cracking and pressing

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NOT ZEN, BUT NOW

Being present is easy when the blue sky moment is trimmed with green grass, when temperate breezes blow your hair back gently from your bright, clean face. You can hop off the worry train quickly in such minutes and hours. You can drop your baggage carelessly to the ground without

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Per Annum

Every year, now, around my birthday, I feel a tug to write something, employing words to mark the privilege of completing another ride around the sun. This year’s efforts came in the form of a love letter to my life. Here, below, is an edited version, and though it’s all

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So many ways to say it. Be Here Now.

          Between Opening the red door to a new spring day. my feet greet crumbs of last year’s leaves, dotted with recent, light green pollen all swirled into the little cove, entry that guides me into and from this place, this home, and they rattle a

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Today’s Truth

We all have challenges, right? Bink has rocky periods, when her anxiety rises and OCD rears its particularly ugly head. There is no easy or quick fix for these times, though we try many things. When she hurts, I do, too, with my whole heart.  I know things will change,

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Questions, Questions, Everywhere

  When Bink was young, I didn’t know if she’d ever be able to ask questions. She had words at age three and four, five and six, but not in a conversational way. She didn’t point at things. Figuring out what she needed or wanted involved some combination of detective

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MORE AUTISM AWARENESS: RITUALS

AUTISM AWARENESS MONTH: DAY 18 Routines and rituals. Don’t we all have them? Under the best of circumstances, they can add order, meaning and beauty to our lives. For many people with autism, they go beyond that, offering comfort, safety, structure, and learning opportunities. Life with Bink is rich with

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Poetry, Autism, and Statistics, Oh My!

Hello! I’m happy to share that  my poem, Autismville, won the Songs of Eretz Readers Choice Award Contest, and another of my poems, 7 AM, came in second!  If you’d like to see the official announcement, you can click HERE   If you voted in the contest, thank you, thank you!

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Am I blue?

Hello, I’m re-posting this poem I wrote last year about Autism Awareness Day, which is April 2. If you know someone with autism, today is a great day to acknowledge them.  Tomorrow works, too, or next week, or anytime. If they like deep pressure, give them a big, squeezy hug.

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