Oh, the wisdom and the entanglement of memories that accompany me
along the path of rising over resistance.
Cutting through the cords of debris from the past.
Mired in the mud of judgment and unmet expectations.
Stuck in the quagmire of fear.
The truth, like a sword, clears the rumination,
making way for the realization that
I can choose growth over stagnation,
healing over habits,
and triumph with awareness and agility,
as I change and make good,
drawing with power on my past.
Fresh water mixes with salt.
The gateway brackish,
murky,
churning.
Swimming against the angry currents of
struggle,
despair,
and loss.
Riding the tides with
flexibility
and fortitude,
trust
and patience.
Constantly changing conditions stir hope and determination.
Survival requires adaptability.
Leaving the familiar marshes of the small, quiet stream
to swim in the wide open playground of the ocean.
This choice
a devotion.
This river of tears
leads to an ocean of joy.
My friend, we are not unicorns,
But dragons!
Full of fire.
Welling with generosity.
Sensitive to every tide
and shift of the barometer.
Fueled by passion.
Righteous in ancient tradition.
Bleeding tenderness and hope.
So sorely misunderstood
and under valued.
Especially when we love most deeply,
reveal our sensitive nature,
and suppress our power.
We submit to others
so that they can feel strong.
We are so powerful that we can suppress our very own needs,
to the point of falling ill and weak,
until inside us awakens the dragon heart
and we become so much love,
so much joy,
that the entire world lights up from our magnificence
and all doubt and judgment fades,
revealing our scales,
our scars,
and our wounds.
Stepping
proudly,
unapologetically,
fully
into our power.
Dark and heavy clouds fill the sky.
There is a moist, chilling feel in the air.
Worry, doubt, and greed swirl on the wind.
At the center of it all,
like an eye opening timidly from a long slumber,
a small space opens.
Unleashed absent effort,
unconditional,
unassuming,
extending unrestrainably outward,
an ancient healing balm,
a penetrating and permiating force,
stirs and
rises up.
It moves and shifts,
overcoming,
discerning,
dissolving,
and shifting.
Without seeking,
or striving,
it appears,
almost effervescently,
greeting all of the
anguish,
pain,
and
suffering
with gentle kindness,
patience,
humility,
and peace.
Love moves from within,
chosen
to be
seen,
felt,
and heard.
.
Curled up in a tiny ball,
breath pressing against muscles and bones heavy with the weight of not knowing.
The voice trying to find its footing,
wanting so desperately to be guided to its answers by the outside,
knowing it must dig deep and mine its own direction authentically from within.
In between each sigh,
a tear drops to the floor,
the only sign of motion
in this otherwise still
and down thrown body.
The simultaneous fullness
and emptiness
pulling at its core.
To be all
and
nothing.
Not afraid
to be afraid.
Monday Mindfulness 