Loosening the ties that bind me
to an old, outdated mode of being,
learning to breathe deeply and slowly
and really see how unique this present moment is,
seeing how life has always provided me what I need,
and trusting that it always will,
it all becomes so simple.
Life isn’t meant to be figured out, dissected,
overburdened with assigned meaning—
but one breath, one step, one moment,
one day at a time,
life is meant to be lived.
When I’ve been pushing and pushing and pushing,
hustling,
going everywhere,
doing everything,
bouncing around like a ping-pong ball,
At some point my body says
Stop.
I’ve reached that point.
My body is saying
Stop. Slow Down. Pause. Rest.
And yet I keep going.
It’s catching up with me.
I feel exhausted.
I want to rest,
but the children need to eat breakfast
and get on the school bus.
I drag myself out of bed;
I’m praying
God be with me. Have mercy. God be with me.
The doomsday prophet in my head says
It will always be like this.
The child in my head says
This isn’t fair.
My body keeps repeating
Stop. Stop. Stop.
It’s getting louder.
And I’m wondering when I’ll get the hang
of single parenting, really.
Some other voice says
Just one day at a time, darling,
just one step at a time.
I think I’ll listen to that voice.
If I suddenly dis-identified myself with my pain,
how would I show up in the moment?
If I no longer believed the stories told to me
or the labels I’ve been branded with,
who would I be, right now?
If I could no longer see myself
as the victim of my past circumstances,
how would I relate to this present experience?
I keep praying. I keep saying aloud,
I’m ready to let go of the past.
I’m ready to feel beyond my pain.
I ready to know who I really am.
And yet the old story persists.
What do I need to do to be free?
It’s time to retire to a quieter place;
my body aches from the work I’ve done
and I need some time to recover.
My plan is to slow down, rest.
When I awaken
I’ll face the mess.
Bit by bit I’ll keep what matters
and let go everything else.
Possessions, relationships, thoughts, behaviors,
it’s time to look at all of it and choose.
Taking time to slow down and rest,
to be quiet and still and listen,
to let my awareness settle,
and feel my whole body alive in this moment.
On retreat I deeply feel and know
how important it is to slow down and take time
to just be.
Day to day living is hectic, chaotic;
disengaging from this frenetic pace
I can see how I’ve been pushing, pushing,
trying to get things done,
but never taking time to just be.
I can feel my body is exhausted;
I’ve been asking so much of it.
This whole weekend has been
one long exhale, finding presence,
remembering that there is nowhere else
but this moment, and I’m home.
Your mind is always trying to fix things;
don’t listen to it, it can’t see the whole picture.
Your unconscious wounds are pushing you
to numb out, because feeling feels unsafe;
don’t numb out, we need you here, ALL of you.
There’s another aspect of you, the space of awareness,
bigger than your body, bigger than your mind or your wounds.
It surrounds you; it holds you; it loves you and sees you always.
Stay in that space.
Just let yourself be held.
You’ll feel and know that all truly is well.
Ok. Brace yourselves.
I’m almost all the way moved in.
Just one or two more CARLOADS.
I mean…how did I accumulate all this stuff?
People are telling me
Just be patient.
You just moved in.
Unpacking takes time.
And I’m thinking
I have way too much stuff.
I hoping that my letting go muscle
will get stronger and stronger
as I go through this.
I took one carload to Goodwill today…
toys, shoes, baby clothes, rugs,
shower curtains, towels…
and a beautiful (expensive) bedspread
that we got as a wedding present…
I looked at it last night and thought,
I couldn’t possibly take a new lover
into my bed with this thing on it.
(I mean, I’ve been celibate for 2.5 years,
but maybe someday there will be
a lover in my midst…)
And so this bedspread had to go.
I keep holding a vision
of myself in a better place
and I look at these objects
and ask if I want to take them with me
into my future.
If it doesn’t fit with my future vision,
I let it go.
I didn’t realize that I had been working so hard
my whole entire life
to arrive in this moment
with enough strength
to simply let go.
