
White flowers
Dark textures
Straight lines
Soft edges
Living wholeness
Dried pieces
Flowing lines
Still emptiness
Warm touches
Cool feeling
Hope and breath
In the spaces
Photo courtesy of Susan Kerr.

White flowers
Dark textures
Straight lines
Soft edges
Living wholeness
Dried pieces
Flowing lines
Still emptiness
Warm touches
Cool feeling
Hope and breath
In the spaces
Photo courtesy of Susan Kerr.

Sometimes I just don’t realize the sheerness of the stories I wear.
How they seem to protect me and at the same time be filled with holes.
I wear them to create a sense of separateness, of control, and the ability to shield myself from others.
I can never truly hide from that connection. A part of me will always remain exposed.
Perhaps a part of me pokes out beyond the edge hoping to be seen so that I can come out from under the stories.
When the veil of story is pulled back authentic, vulnerable, unfiltered connectedness can begin.

I wonder if our paths as humans are designed not to run in a straight line but to zigzag like the paths of butterflies in flight.
Zigzagging might not be an obstacle, but may just give greater freedom to go wherever we are inspired to go and break free from the predictable.
Perhaps the path is intentionally zigzag so that when we’re not sure where we are going, we end up exactly where we are supposed to be.

How often I stand in this being of me, just not sure what I see.
Insecurity on the inside
Appears as rejection on the outside.
Longing for love and positive connections
Show up as judgment and disappointment from others.
Feelings of shame and inadequacy
Manifest as attacks of anger and disgust.
The stories build not on what is really surrounding me but in the distorted view I have of the reflections.
My experiences and relationships are like a hall of mirrors.
The distortion produces more distortion until the internal and external judgment and criticism becomes too great to bear.
And then, I let go of the differences, weaknesses, faults.
I soften the gaze.
I let the edges of everything blur.
And then I see it is all just me.
I become curious not about what I see in the endless reflections in the mirrors, but in the source of the projection.

I can choose to encounter my world through friction and tension…
Or synchronized and harmonious.
There is feedback and purpose in both.
Tuning to aversion or alignment as the compass points on my path,
I can either move towards what feels comfortable, favorable, and right
Or rub up against imbalance, back up, turn away and go around.
I can always choose resistance or resonance.