As I attempt to embrace new ways of thinking,
being, doing and expressing,
My old self-tries to seduce me back to what is familiar.
My future self is waving wildly, calling me forward.
My current self is just exhausted from life
in 3D reality.
God, grant me patience with myself
as I vacillate between what was
and what can be.
Let me feel loved, safe, seen and heard.
In the end, this is all a dream.
I really shouldn’t take it so seriously.
Who waits patiently
for you to finally wake up
that you were the one
you were searching for all along?
Who reminds you to breathe, when,
in the midst of daily effort
you’ve taken on some old struggle
that isn’t yours to endure?
Who waits for you
through all the years of your life
and at the end of it all
stands with open arms
to welcome you back home?
Your True Self,
The only reality,
The consciousness that pervades all…
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to an old, outdated mode of being,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.
Forgiveness cannot be forced.
When my family fell apart
I tried to rush to forgiveness,
thinking that it would speed up
the healing process.
But I was just engaging in
using my spirituality
to circumvent the messy trenches
of deep grief and traumatic loss.
I prayed to God to show me the way,
hoping I could fly over
the dark valley and avoid
what lurked there in the shadows
of my deepest, darkest memories.
I read books and listened to speakers,
I attended meetings,
I thought I knew what I was doing,
but I was really attempting
to avoid the inevitable.
Finally I discovered
that what I really needed
was to allow myself to feel.
I had to go through the grieving process.
I had to face the loss of the life I knew,
I had to take each day
one at a time.
Some days the pain was so intense
I didn’t think I could live through it.
People would tell me
It won’t be like this forever;
I didn’t believe them.
Over time, as I remained clear
and focused on my goal
to find a place for me and my kids,
I noticed the fog was lifting;
I felt more like myself
with each passing day.
Looking back I see
that it was my effort to heal
that blocked the healing.
It was my belief
that things should be a certain way
that kept me from embracing things
as they were.
And now I’m still working on forgiveness,
but at least I have the sense now
to allow that grace to come, naturally,
when the time is right
and my heart is ripe
for such sweetness…
Thank you for this day.
Thank you for waking me up again.
Thank you for giving me strength
to make it through,
even when I’m tired, sick,
and all I want to do is rest.
Thank you for helping me to be
the most loving mom I can be to my kids,
for tending to their needs joyfully, patiently,
and with gratitude that I was blessed with children
(even when sometimes I wish I weren’t!).
Thank you for cleansing my heart
of envy when I see husbands
taking care of their wives
with love in their eyes.
Help me to embrace my loneliness,
so that if it is your will one day,
I might celebrate partnership again.
The tide has shifted
and I’m ready for change.
Somehow more empowered…
maybe my practices have coalesced?
Or is it the clarity arising
from 100% sobriety
100% of the time?
Is it that the Universe has aligned?
Is it that enough people have prayed for me?
I’ve begun to feel
that life is worth living again…
Is it the blessing of a thunderstorm,
cooling the air
after the sweltering heat of day,*
the look in my children’s eyes
as we pick wineberries
by the side of the road,
the hustle back home
as the storm approached?
Something is different.
There is more hope,
more conviction that somewhere,
this will all work out.
*My home’s air-conditioning system has be inoperable since May. If you are from around here, you know how godawfully hot and humid it is in these parts this time of year. If you’re not from around here, trust me when I say that it’s basically inhumane and cruel to not have air conditioning during the summer months…
(not an easy task.)
Holding a vision.
tending to the tenderness,
and breathing into
the gaping open places,
the void that was left
the last time around.
Openness and readiness
are a call for fulfillment,
but not its promise.
I am waiting for that promise.