I've never been good at sitting with unpleasant feelings feeling the icky the yucky the awkward the hard and so today when I want so badly to run I'm sitting here and feeling this moment all of it.
cold wind dripping rain the perfect day for snuggling in bed with hot tea my loves surrounding me and I will but not now now it’s time to pull my sweater around my face and brave the beautiful rain
...is that you don’t understand what it is you’re not able to grasp, and so it feels unimportant.
Years later, when you hear the same truth again, but this time with deep knowing...
It’s like the sky just became vaster, the soil richer, and my soul freer.
by Jane Kenyon
ONCE THERE WAS LIGHT
Once, in my early thirties, I saw
that I was a speck of light in the great
river of light that undulates through time
I was floating with the whole
human family. We were all colors — those
who are living now, those who have died,
those who are not yet born. For a few
moments I floated, completely calm,
and I no longer hated having to exist
Like a crow who smells hot blood
you came flying to pull me out
of the glowing stream.
“I’ll hold you up. I never let my dear
ones drown!” After that, I wept for days.
I envy them.
They, who steadily row
their vessels on the sunny surface
of the sea
into which I sink
despite tenacious treading
I envy them.
They, who do not feel so deeply
their minds gently floating
on the surface
(I am tired
of fighting to stay afloat)
I envy them.
They, who are not tempted
to sink down
into the depths
of their soul
and let the velvet darkness caress the pain
which silent flutter of butterfly wings
was the one
which straw was responsible
of my existence
if I paused for a moment
before thinking the thought
which triggered the avalanche
(like a stone
loosened without notice
by the passing hiker
which is now tumbling down the mountain
if the stone
dread and anger and hopelessness
the thrill of freedom
I wonder if it
writhes in pain at the jarring motion
and yet can’t fathom choosing anything other
it’s not a stabbing kind of pain more of a dull ache hollow begging for fullness yearning for the feeling of home for belonging for being understood i avert my eyes from its rawness keep it hidden even from myself except in moments of openness when it threatens to consume my soul.
In the beginning I was so young and such a stranger to myself I hardly existed. I had to go out into the world and see it and hear it and react to it, before I knew at all who I was, what I was, what I wanted to be.– Mary Oliver, Upstream
I’m growing. I’m a work in progress.
It feels like a new level of understanding unlocked.
A strange sensation. Acceptance of myself, as I am.
A work in progress. A being.
Still a stranger to myself. Slowly learning who I am.
What it means to be human. How to be more conscious. Not better.. because I can only ever be who I am at that moment.
I am the best version of myself I can be in this moment. And it’s so freeing to accept that truth.
to just be.
as i am right now.
in the Now.