Sarah Reitz

Weaving words & wisdom to heal the world | Poet, wife and visionary | Dreaming a new reality into being 💭 🎵 🌎

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

Oh yeah I never told you guys this story of mine:

I just had the most incredible, awe-inspiring, core-shaking experience yesterday.

All I can really say is that our loved ones do not cease to exist. They still subsist past death, and they are part of God now too — reaching through time, space, people, books, poetry, and objects. All of it can be used.

The night before last, I spent a long time editing a poem titled “God Is” until it felt perfect. The next day, I was experiencing being seen by that same force in such pointed, undeniable ways.

Truly the most precious gift I could ever receive. It was exactly what I’d been aching for the most: that deep “I wish you could see me now.”
I wrote a book. I got sober. I even have a garden now — just like you tried so hard to instill in me when I wasn’t ready yet.

And then your son handed me a keychain. On the card it said “National Home Gardening Club” and underneath, “PREMIER LIFE MEMBER” — while I was standing in your house on National Ave.

In the man cave, I opened the door and found some of my own writing you had saved from May 25, 2017. What stood out was your quote, commenting on me writing to myself:

“What’re you having an epiphany over there?”

When I wrote that, I wasn’t. But reading it now? Yes. I am having an epiphany. The greatest one I have ever had.

I picked out a couple of books, glanced at them — some Socrates quotes and a book with the word “prophet” on it. I also found a hammock, which felt poignant because of the fond memories of chilling with Sullivan on your back porch while you took pictures of us.

Then your son plucked a mirror off the wall and asked if I wanted it. Of course I did — it still has your little bat and moon stickers on it.

Outside, there were cactus pieces propagating. I had been wondering if any of your plants survived so I could steward one. “Of course you can have one — take two.”

I was thinking about the hammock and how I don’t have two trees close enough at my house to hang it like I did in your yard. Then your son casually mentioned, “Oh yeah, there’s this never-used hammock stand you can have — still in the bag.” Like you were fulfilling my needs in that very moment.

On the ride home, “Shine” by Collective Soul came on. I started crying. It makes me think of you and my dad.The immense feeling of presence washed over me as I connected all the dots.

I decided to look at that “prophet” book and did a little bibliomancy. I flipped to a random page and landed on this:

“And Life is veiled and hidden, even as your greater self is hidden and veiled. Yet when Life speaks, all the winds become words: and when she speaks again, the smiles upon your lips and the tears in your eyes turn also into words. When she sings, the deaf hear and are held; and when she comes walking, the sightless behold her and are amazed and follow her in wonder and astonishment.”
And he ceased from speaking, and a vast silence enfolded the people, and in the silence there was an unheard song, and they were comforted of their loneliness and their aching. And he left them straightaway and followed the path which led to his Garden, which was the Garden of his mother and his father, wherein they lay asleep, they and their forefathers. And there were those who would have followed after him, seeing that it was a home-coming, and he was left alone, for there was not one left of all his kin to spread the feast of welcome, after the manner of his people.
But the captain of his ship counseled them saying: “Suffer him to go upon his way. For his bread is the bread of aloneness, and in his cup is the wine of remembrance, which he would drink alone.”

As I read those last words about drinking the wine of remembrance alone, I was feeling that loneliness. I had been trying to explain this to my husband, but it can’t really be translated. This experience was for me, and me alone.

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

Aggrandized View

I use words
Whose meaning
I don’t quite posses

And it bothers me
To use the word
I can’t define

Though upon reflection
And looking up definitions
It was right to use
The whole time

It is perhaps in this way
I hold my aggrandized view
Of myself
I trust that it’s right

That my instinct is correct
Sarah, our precious hero
Lost in her predicaments

Its easier to point at myself
Outside of myself
In writing

In the third person
I am much less
Terrifying

In the mirror of my words
It’s never quite self directed
Only reflections caught
Then again refracted

And now we’re in a hall
Made of mirrors
The poet reflects,
Ironically

Yet you still can’t make out
The shape of me
Besides someone
Who hides behind
Thought loops, grand ideas
And countless rhymes

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

@jawdroppuh_ Hahahahha no I’ve never been. That’s why I said it was for quitters

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

Rehab is for quitters

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

Hey Skeetskeetholla made a new song after five years : https://t.co/55NNcw2rS2

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

The striking thing? The book is actually titled The Garden of the Prophet (three garden references now). And the passage mirrors the poem I had just worked so hard on the night before. When I re-read “God Is,” I realized it perfectly describes exactly what I had just experienced.

God Is

God is
The whisper of the wind
The thing that speaks
Breathes and teaches me
All I wish to understand

Made wholly more aware
Brought to my knees
In the midst of the Goddess's throes

Such willful ignorance
Naive to the painful brink
Met with frightful gravity
I stumble, then surrender
Perils have made their home
Within my tattered spirit

Oh champion of growth
I wave goodbye to folly
All friends surely fade

Hello to someone new
Someone who subdues
My curious aching soul

It happened for a moment
Gone in the next breath
That whisper of the wind

A dawning of acceptance
Presence breathed through air
Realized through my mind's eye
Baptized in transcendence

We knew not what it meant
To have gazed upon
The face of God
I stepped away more transfixed

God is awareness that remains
The shortened breath
Between you and me
Where God prefers to exist

My dead best friend — God — Life — spoke to me yesterday.

The most earth-shattering confirmation of love persisting after death. A precious gift I will never forget.

I’m not sure what to do with this information yet, but the Garden of the Prophet said to turn the tears into words… so that’s what I intend to keep doing.

GOD IS

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

Oh yeah I never told you guys this story of mine:

I just had the most incredible, awe-inspiring, core-shaking experience yesterday.

All I can really say is that our loved ones do not cease to exist. They still subsist past death, and they are part of God now too — reaching through time, space, people, books, poetry, and objects. All of it can be used.

The night before last, I spent a long time editing a poem titled “God Is” until it felt perfect. The next day, I was experiencing being seen by that same force in such pointed, undeniable ways.

Truly the most precious gift I could ever receive. It was exactly what I’d been aching for the most: that deep “I wish you could see me now.”
I wrote a book. I got sober. I even have a garden now — just like you tried so hard to instill in me when I wasn’t ready yet.

And then your son handed me a keychain. On the card it said “National Home Gardening Club” and underneath, “PREMIER LIFE MEMBER” — while I was standing in your house on National Ave.

In the man cave, I opened the door and found some of my own writing you had saved from May 25, 2017. What stood out was your quote, commenting on me writing to myself:

“What’re you having an epiphany over there?”

When I wrote that, I wasn’t. But reading it now? Yes. I am having an epiphany. The greatest one I have ever had.

I picked out a couple of books, glanced at them — some Socrates quotes and a book with the word “prophet” on it. I also found a hammock, which felt poignant because of the fond memories of chilling with Sullivan on your back porch while you took pictures of us.

Then your son plucked a mirror off the wall and asked if I wanted it. Of course I did — it still has your little bat and moon stickers on it.

Outside, there were cactus pieces propagating. I had been wondering if any of your plants survived so I could steward one. “Of course you can have one — take two.”

I was thinking about the hammock and how I don’t have two trees close enough at my house to hang it like I did in your yard. Then your son casually mentioned, “Oh yeah, there’s this never-used hammock stand you can have — still in the bag.” Like you were fulfilling my needs in that very moment.

On the ride home, “Shine” by Collective Soul came on. I started crying. It makes me think of you and my dad.The immense feeling of presence washed over me as I connected all the dots.

I decided to look at that “prophet” book and did a little bibliomancy. I flipped to a random page and landed on this:

“And Life is veiled and hidden, even as your greater self is hidden and veiled. Yet when Life speaks, all the winds become words: and when she speaks again, the smiles upon your lips and the tears in your eyes turn also into words. When she sings, the deaf hear and are held; and when she comes walking, the sightless behold her and are amazed and follow her in wonder and astonishment.”
And he ceased from speaking, and a vast silence enfolded the people, and in the silence there was an unheard song, and they were comforted of their loneliness and their aching. And he left them straightaway and followed the path which led to his Garden, which was the Garden of his mother and his father, wherein they lay asleep, they and their forefathers. And there were those who would have followed after him, seeing that it was a home-coming, and he was left alone, for there was not one left of all his kin to spread the feast of welcome, after the manner of his people.
But the captain of his ship counseled them saying: “Suffer him to go upon his way. For his bread is the bread of aloneness, and in his cup is the wine of remembrance, which he would drink alone.”

As I read those last words about drinking the wine of remembrance alone, I was feeling that loneliness. I had been trying to explain this to my husband, but it can’t really be translated. This experience was for me, and me alone.

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

I won an award today for being awesome at Dominos (pizza pimp)

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

New York City, where you must pay to pee

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

I just remembered when Elon Musk laughed at my comment on a post. It was a stupid joke lol

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

My toddler woke me up at 4:30am again and I can’t fall back asleep. Second night in a row and I work 13 hours today

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

hey God wanted me to tell you wassup

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

@generic_void thanks man I appreciate that. all things in due time

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

@interracials3x I vape in the walk in

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

if you wanted to write
then you would
sometimes God tells us
what we are going to be

I think you know
what you should
do with your life
by the time you are 8 years old
never let money decide if
your dreams should die

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

my husband finally got me to subscribe to Claude so I can parse through this treasure trove of daily notes (poetry) of which I completely forgot about. so look out for the next book, I expect it to be very different

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

God bless Ye

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

@generic_void I’d vote for him

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

I would get out of LA if I were you. Hey maybe that’s why they burned all the homes so no one of influence would still be there for the false flag perhaps

[Sarah Reitz @reliablereitz]

Of course some big ass storm would hit the whole east coast as we travel home. All our flights are delayed lol. With our three year old