Melissa Rose Boisclair

So much has happened I don't know where to start. On the surface nothing's changed. It like my soul is mimicking Chinese bamboo.  Once the seed has been planted, you see nothing for five years but little shoots. That's because all the growth takes place underground. Deep below the earth, a labyrinth of a root system is reaching upward and outward. Then, at the end of the fifth year, it shoots up to a height of eighty-two feet! For years and years nothing's been changing on the surface of my life. I work the same two jobs day after day, wear the same smile, speak the same words, but all the while the seas within me were turbulent and dangerous. I, on a raft held together with frayed rope.  Chinese bamboo. All the work took place deep underground, all these roots reaching outward and upward, waiting for the day they would breech the cracks in the dirt and dare to stretch for the great blue sky. After seven some odd years of living in a place that was slowly killing ...

It's been a while.  I've done so much, changed so much, decided so much in such a short time it astounds me. I won't go into it all. (does this make me a lazy author?) But most of the turmoil I've felt for the past year and a half is beginning to ebb, and quiet. I still have restless nights, but it's more from the heat, and intense creative waves then anything. I still get down on myself, but the lows are much higher then they used to be. (Think silently screaming on the floor.)  I've sent my query letter out to my first agent, along with a sample chapter. I've decided I'm moving to MA. and, little by little, I'm starting to understand exactly what it is I want out of this life. I want a group of intelligent, open minded friends that compliment my personality, and who I don't need to filter myself around. I want a spiritual teacher. I want to travel all over the world, not like a tourist, but an explorer with a few dusty possessions and a ...

They have been symbols of rebirth since the beginning of time. (Maybe a bit of an exaggeration.) And they've been a growing symbol in my life for as long as I can remember. I'm not what you would call a fiery person, or at least I didn't believe myself to be. I was water, flowing cool and strong, and constant. Steady, until tested. Harmless, until experienced. More so lately I've tapped into my fire, and this bird has taken hold, and taken flight. I've been through my fair share of troubles. My heart has been ripped out and bloodied so many times that I have moments where I wonder just how it is I kept moving forward. I remember, in the deepest pit of my despair, going on long walks. I just wanted to stop. I would look at my feet and ask myself, "Why am I doing it? I can sit down on the road, and stop moving. I don't have to keep holding myself up. I don't have to keep walking." I continued anyway. One step at a time, my legs carried me forwa...

Everyone loves spring and fall. Summer can be brutishly hot, winter treacherously cold. But spring and fall are perfect. Cool and warm, and so colorful for such a fleeting amount of time. For the sake of the current season, lets stick to spring. Spring smells lovely. All the trees are in bloom and even when the petals fall it puts a carpet of pink and white over everything, but it lasts for such a short while. It's the lesson of the cherry blossom. Beauty is fleeting, that's what makes it so coveted. Every single year it comes I find myself wishing it'll never end. The birds singing in a crisp morning, the flowers falling around me when I take my morning run. Even the spring rain seems more gentle and musical. This year I started to wonder, do I really want it to be like this forever? It would be nice in some aspects. Never to cold to get out and run. Never so hot I can't sleep without peeling my cloths off my skin. If it were always spring, it would loose it'...

...the last day of your life. Most people would finish it like that wouldn't they? I never liked it, and I couldn't place my finger on why until I heard it differently. "Live each day like it's the first day of your life." There's something dark about thinking each day is the last. To live each day like it's your last, it might make you want to live it to the fullest all the time. Do the things you always wanted to do, but never did because of one excuse or another. It might make you want to tell the people you love just how much you love them. It may even make you realize that your wasting your time being completely miserable, working a job you hate, and being a person you detest. Then there's that tight knot under your shoulder blades. That hooded figure whispering in your ear, "This is the last day of your life." Maybe it's not so noticeable, but living with the intention, the feeling that this is the last day of your life,...

I want to scream.  In a room with no door, a space filled with mirrors,  I want to take a bat to it all.  Make it all star dust glistening at my feet.  And I want to scream as I do it. But alas, I'm merely wind up ballerina.  Forever dancing to the same music, constrained to the edges of my box.   Red's not the color. Or black. It's all of them in one. Hurling paint at a canvas until your sweating and panting. Something's bubbling, boiling, burning. I can feel it swelling in my throat.  My chest. My heart.  What is it? What is it? what is it? Scream. That's all I want to do. Mirrors. Bat. Stardust.  

To be honest, despite my spiritual nature, it's not a topic I'm very... knowledgeable of. I've never been drawn to them, and though a good few people have pointed some out to me who are 'the real deal' I never felt the need to look into it. A few days ago, I was shopping for groceries with a friend of mine. On the bus ride back, she was telling me about this documentary on Netflix called Kumari. This man's family came from India, but he was born and raised here, in America. Despite them raising him in their beliefs, he was obviously exposed to a much wider range of religions and ways of living being in the USA. That being said, he wasn't a very spiritual person. Now, growing up in the beliefs of his family, he was teased a lot in school. Until the spiritual movement began in America. Then, miraculously, he became very popular. Not because he was spiritual, but because his heritage was one of many spiritual leaders at the time. This got him thinking, ...