I’ve been thinking alot about this. Who we “think” we are. How our perceptions of ourselves are formed and how they shift. How we box or circle or scribble or erase ourselves into categories. What outside judgements do to our hearts and souls. How our culture doesn’t support self-reliance and intuition, regardless of how conformist or non-conformist the choice or value or lifestyle is. I’m pondering the shapes of us, outside and inside.
I think we are curvy and boundless, in body and spirit.
I think that at the crux of it all, underneath the layers and words and masks, is something profoundly perfect. Profoundly newborn and vulnerable and yet bold as a storm. A tiny sprout amoung the fields content to sway in the wind, or perhaps stretching towards the sun so it can grow, grow, grow and reach it’s stems towards the others and for the first time feel connected.
I think that even if you weren’t (or aren’t) reminded often that you are loved and priceless that this place right here, this world, this sunshine and air and great wide ocean, love you immensely and deeply. I think you are wanted by more people and hearts and pathways that you ever can imagine.
What if you allowed yourself the possibility to believe?
I’ve been humbled lately by acquaintances and almost-strangers who have kindly commented “Your writing! It’s eloquent/beautiful/lovely/inspiring”. As if I have something they don’t have.
And I think, first, “Thank You”.
And then I think “How funny. It is my therapy and my necessary nourishment all at once. How curious to be complimented on such a thing.”
Then, I sit back and ponder this person and others and think:
But you sing arias like it is your inaugural breath
And you chop veggies with the presence of a monk
And you create works of beauty from looking through a lens and deciding when to CLICK and freeze the moment forever
And you mother like your heart is outside your body
And you dance and spin with fire as if it were your baptism
And you design on paper in 2D what only you can envision in your 3D mind
And you, on 1 hours sleep, welcome new life with peaceful whispers and kind hands and kisses on the third eye
And you – your laughter is the nectar of the gods and goddesses
And you can craft out of thread and yarn things softer and sweeter than a rose, all with your love embedded in each stitch and loop
And you can organize a desk or bookshelf with the ease and grace of a crisp apple harvest
And you can draw baths and cook a cauldron of soup that heals
And you know exactly when to say a substantial and righteous NO to those people and situations that no longer serve you
And you have a touch that eases worries and quells fears and soothes bones
And you can release it all with the deep sobs like rivers and screams as hot as a dragon’s fire
And you find the extra in the ordinary, the bigness in the fleeting, the miracle in the moment
And the list goes on and on and on.
And I think: it’s magic. All of it. Pure magic. Embellished in human form.
We each have it. That part of us that astounds others, humbly, over and over again. Sometimes we fail to recognize it or validate it or ask it to come back up to the surface where it once was.
And so, today, I am reminding you of that THING. I am reminding you that you belong; among us, among them, among the stars and dreams and wooded trails and urban landscapes. I am here to tell you that you are necessary, wise, wild, juicy, Known, delightful, splendid in your self-deemed ordinary-ness or outsider-ness.
Oh and yes, I am an expert in this moment right now, so you can trust me. I’m an expert because I have seen YOU over an over and over again. And I’ve been intrigued and delighted by you. I’ve felt you so wholly in my own heart, those times I’ve questioned my own worth. I’ve thought of you huddled in a corner, barely breathing, vying to survive in a sea of overwhelming questions and confusion. I’ve wanted to tell you to forget all that shit, forget this shit even, start over in only the way that YOU know how. Or don’t start over. Exhale and speak your truth. And I’ve wanted to hug you for many, many minutes and look into your endless eyes and wrinkle my nose and smile with my own crinkly eyes and say “Yes? Tell me EVERYTHING”.
One of my favorite lovely authors is SARK and she says:
“Remember to delight yourself first, then others can be truly delighted.”
“When we focus on the song of our soul and heart, then others will be touched similarly. Sometimes people wonder or worry whether people will like or approve of their creative expression. It’s none of your business. It’s your business to stay present and focused for the work of your deepest dreams. It might look crooked or strange, or be very odd-but if it delights you, then it is yours, and will find it’s way into other hearts.”
And so I leave you with these other words from SARK, scanned from the well-worn pages of my own copy, penned on the inside with my own mama’s loving words.