Bursting with excitement.
Tempted by fear.
To hold back.
To bring less of my
intelligence,
beauty,
creativity,
power
so as not to overwhelm them.
But they feel it anyway.
They want it.
And there is a good chance they won’t be able to handle it.
But that shouldn’t stop me
from being all that I am.
My allness
is ready
to bloom,
in all
of
its
magnificence.
Standing out
Breaking through
Rising up
Getting messy
Making choices
Accepting consequences
Humbly confident
Unconditionally vulnerable
More freedom
More joy
More love
Giving
Receiving
Most authentically me.
So awkward are these first steps of
holding on
and letting go,
remembering
and reimagining,
allowing love with all of its bitter suffering
and sweet consolation,
reconciling the aliveness
with the empty space.
The heart broken open
to feel more deeply
and love more ferociously.
The painful ebb and flow of longing,
overflowing with fullness,
aching from absence.
Bravely moving
with and against
the rhythms of this inescapable dance,
gently wisping and twirling
the scattered parts of the heart
back together,
slowly,
softly
coming
home.
I am not broken.
Although, perhaps to some I may appear that way.
When I sit in stillness, in the quiet of my own heart, it is clear that I may be chipped.
I may be cracked.
Parts of me may be loose or wobbly,
but there is such a profound beauty
in all of the scars and markings of this worn and tired being,
that I can only imagine
if I were completely broken
I would be even more beautiful.
Saying yes to “hard.”
With kindness
and gentleness.
With hope
and tenacity.
With assertiveness
and assuredness.
Calm.
Confident.
Clear.
Recognizing the “hard”
as the nudge
towards
easing up
and
letting go.
My old, worn out shoes,
so familiar,
form to fit my imperfect feet,
adapted over time to accommodate my lopsided gate,
carrying me faithfully in my uneven stride.
There comes that time that those beloved companions have served their purpose,
worn out in functionality,
poised for retirement.
In come the replacements,
stiff,
awkward,
shifting,
adjusting.
Blisters making way for bliss – forging new connections for movement and growth.
The shadow of the leaf.
A lingering impression it makes as the sun touches the earth,
predictable, recognizable, seemingly unchanging.
And then the moon eclipses the sun.
The angle of light shifts as it shines on the earth.
Shadows arc and transform just as freely as the leaf dances in the wind,
fully capable of showing up differently.
Thinking…thinking….thinking….
No room for the heart to heal.
The cast iron vault concealing deep and splintering wounds too fragile to expose.
Can the world handle the explosion?
Is it ready for the imprisoned love and joy to be released?
Will critical thoughts, past hurts, and fear prevent the unleashing?
Oh, to find creativity again…
For creativity to find me.
Touching once more vitality,
vibrancy,
and free expression.
All that is left to do is to
Feel…feel…feel…
This newness thrills and enlivens me,
as the old ways woo me with protection and predictability.
It’s exhausting,
at times,
this dance!
Leaving it all behind too quickly there is no room to pause,
to catch my breath,
to reset.
Slowing too much
makes it difficult to find a rhythm in the steps.
and so I spin
and twirl
and feel my breath and body
slightly losing control,
occasionally stepping out of sequence,
joyfully embracing the imperfection,
and that’s when I know
I’m doing it right.
The air turns cool.
Sound becomes distorted.
Sight goes offline.
Simultaneous smallness and vastness set in.
Swaddled simplicity meets rattled uncertainty.
The compass loses its point of focus,
directionality irrelevant.
Bending and moving through unfamiliar spaces,
offering lessons in courage,
the darkness is only temporary.
Monday Mindfulness 