Tag Archives: healing

The Heart of the Universe

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Love is within.
Don’t fool yourself into thinking
you can find it out in the world—
you’ll be searching your whole life.
But sit. Get still.
Close your eyes.
Breathe deeply.
Sense the presence of love
pulsing within you,
where it has always been,
where it is now,
where it will always be.
Know a love
that cannot be diminished
or taken away,
a love that just is.
With a love like this,
you’re at home
wherever you are,
safe and at peace
inside the tender heart
of the universe.

Nothing to Forgive

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This is healing:
It goes in spirals,
rarely in a straight line,
takes steps, hops and leaps,
sometimes goes so slowly it aches,
wondering how long
it will feel this way,
wanting it to change,
wanting to be different,
asking for patience
when thoughts stay the same
day after day after day.
Hoping for little changes,
giving thanks for what is here,
giving thanks for love, for life.
This is courage:
taking one more breath
when you question
the reason for your being here,
and when nothing seems
good enough to keep you here,
when you want to get away from yourself,
from everything,
when you want to escape
everything that ails you
and you believe
that nothing will help you,
and when you think
becoming nothing
would mean everything to you,
taking one more breath,
and deciding to stay,
you breathe again.
This is grace:
Letting the tears flow
until you’ve been washed clean
of the pain and sorrow
that you have carried
for longer than anyone
ever should have,
awakening from trance
and realizing
the poison and the antidote
always exist side by side,
opening your eyes,
for just a moment,
bearing witness
to the most incredible miracle
of presence,
seeing the flow of existence,
remembering there is nothing to fear,
there is nothing to forgive.

 

 

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giving thanks for love, for life,
you breathe again.
there is nothing to forgive.

The One Who Listened & Answered

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On my cushion this morning,
I reached my arms up to the sky
as if some being,
some divine parent,
would swoop down
and scoop me up.
I said, crying,
I’m ready to let go.
I’m ready to forgive.
I’m ready to move on,
I’m ready to heal.
Please help me.

Somebody must’ve been listening,
because this afternoon
I came across some TED Talks
on finding your life purpose.
I was inspired.
I cried.
The tide turned.
I remembered who I was,
who I am,
and I felt a surge of great hope
for the woman I can be.
This evening,
for the first time in forever,
I wanted to eat,
and I took pleasure in my food.
Taking my meal outside,
looking up at the great blue sky,
I remembered
this life is full of possibility.
After my meal
I took out my journal and pen.
The twilight enfolded me
in its gentle embrace
as I wrote words of
praise and thanks
to the one who listened,
and the one who answered.

Could I Love Myself Still?

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At home again today,
starting to feel better,
and I have the urge
to throw myself back into all of the things
that made me sick in the first place.
Didn’t I learn the last thousand times?
Could I slow down for one more day
and let my body recuperate?
Who is telling me I need to do all of these things?
Could I let the house become messy
and love myself still?
Could I let my life become messy
and love myself still?

No Destination

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I keep wondering when I’ll be better…
I recently added a second session
of therapy within the week,
and that question
keeps ricocheting in my mind:
When will I be better?
When will I be better?
and I wonder then
Hey, what’s wrong with me now?
Is there something so wrong
that I need to work hard to get better?
And then I remember
Life is a process.
It is a journey,
not a destination.
This process of becoming—
a journey, not a destination.
Awakening to self—
a journey, not a destination.
Instead of getting better,
maybe I can simply focus
on living well.
I can enjoy the journey
and accept
there is no destination.

NaPoWriMo 2018, Day 21: To Narcissus (With Video!)

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What a timely and fitting prompt from NaPoWriMo today!  The invitation is to play with the myth of Narcissus in some way. I’ve always loved Greek mythology, and the tale of Narcissus alway struck me as sad—dying of unrequited love of self.  But now that my husband is out of the house and I’ve had time to really consider the effects on my mind, body and spirit of living eight years with my husband’s pathological narcissim, the tale has become a lot more personal.  Before I realized the nature of our relationship and how damaging his words and actions were to me and my self-esteem in the course of our marriage, I always thought narcissists were annoyingly self-absorbed people whom we love anyway, because everyone deserves love, and we all exhibit degrees of narcissism now and again.  It’s human nature, isn’t it, after all, to become periodically fixated on one’s self, one’s happiness, one’s life path, and the ways and means we go about achieving what we think we need to be fulfilled?  But then I learned about narcissistic abuse—gaslighting, smear campaigns, isolation, criticism, financial abuse, and it came crashing down on me what I had endured during our time together, always trying to help him be happy, always being told that I was the source of his unhappiness.  I realize that I’ve been traumatized by my time with this man, and I internalized a lot of what he told me.  I’m in the process of unpacking the stories and sifting through my inner landscape to find some ground and some truth about myself. Yes, today’s prompt is timely.  Here goes.

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Poor boy, you fell so deeply in love
with what you believed to be true about yourself,
you wasted away into a dream and died.
The one I thought I knew was a phantom,
haunting the pool that claimed your life.
I tried to save you but you were already dead,
and as real as you seemed, you were just an apparition,
a poltergeist, making lots of noise, breaking things,
howling like a ghoul, frightening me,
recruiting me into this fantasy of living
as you drew me nearer and nearer
to your realm of death.
You nearly took me too,
so invested was I in resurrecting you
that I began to deny my very Self
and all of her needs.
But the spring came, and with it my own resurrection.
I saw my spirit come to life and resist the chains
you attempted to throw around me.
They were just a mirage, like the rest of you;
loud, messy, impressive,
but without any weight or strength,
substanceless, like your love, like your life,
like your work, like all of you.
Rest in peace, fair Narcissus.
I’m going back to the realm of the living now.
I’ll visit you each spring,
lay a flower on your grave,
pay my respects,
but know this:
You cannot hurt me any more.
You are nothing to me now.
Nothing more
than the whispers of wind
that caress my cheek,
reminding me of the long life I have left to live.

NaPoWriMo 2018, Day 18: Off

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I sit down to write my daily poem with one hour left in this day, and I notice how tired I am.  Here is today’s NaPoWriMo prompt.  It sounds like a beautiful idea and process, but I just don’t have the energy in me right now.  So I’m going off prompt!

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My whole life was turned upside down last July
when my husband told me he wanted a divorce
and it hasn’t flipped upright since then.
I haven’t eaten well, slept well,
or felt truly like myself in a long time.
I have lost mutual friends to the story he told,
and really, would I want them as friends
if they can turn based on one person’s story?
But all the same I miss them
and don’t know what to do with these feelings
of grief, loss and betrayal.
I don’t know what to do with the images
of him making love to another woman,
images in my mind, more real
than anything I could see in a movie theater.
I don’t know what to do with the hopes I had,
hopes to reconcile, hopes to rebuild,
to recommit, to outlast all the trials
and come out standing, stronger, confident
of our love and our bond.
Yes, I haven’t eaten well, slept well,
and I miss closeness with my husband,
in spite of all that he has said and done.
I guess you could say I’m a little “off.”