Tag Archives: transformation

You Betcha!

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I stepped into the quantum field
and things began to happen.
It all started to make sense.
I breathed, relaxed, smiled,
and the creativity flowed.
Ideas came.
People called.
I laughed.
I had asked God to remove
the painful thoughts,
and just a short time later,
the ideas came.
Now it’s time for action.
Can I keep the faith?
Can I work hard toward my vision?
Do I want it enough?
You betcha!

Answered Prayer

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I didn’t know…until I knew.
I wasn’t sure…until I was.
I didn’t have a client…until I did.
I had no idea how to trust…until I trusted.
I thought self-love was impossible…
until one day I looked in the mirror,
said I love you, and meant it.
God, I prayed and I prayed for this.
Now what would you have me do?

I’ll Keep Working

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Most of my work is invisible,
and the fruits are so sweet,
but only I can taste them.
I want to share this work,
these experiences,
but words fail me.
They tell me to get a real job.
I have a real job…
two of them, in fact:
I am a mother
and I am a yoga teacher.
I work and work,
mothering and teaching yoga
but somehow the numbers don’t line up.
Then I wonder about the unseen world.
Could it be that the work I’ve done there
will at some point be made visible here?
All I know is that I must keep doing this work.
I pray for the strength and the faith to keep going
when I’m not sure how I’ll make it through the month.
I’m tired. I’m lonely. I want connection. I want closeness.
I’ll keep working,
and maybe the path will be made clear.

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.

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 15: Narcissus in the Spring

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Today we were invited to take a villain and humanize them.  Check out the prompt here. I have my villain.  If you’ve been following me you know who it is without trying too hard.

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He left us.
Left our marriage,
our family.
Left our children
to pursue another.
He lied.
Lied to me,
his family,
our friends,
created a camp,
started a war.
When I could sense the truth in my body,
he gaslighted me, told me I was crazy.
And now he wants my help.
How can I say no?
I met him nine years ago this month;
we were married eight years in November,
and the love doesn’t stop
even when he betrays the sanctity of our union.
He’s in pain.
He hurts and he doesn’t know the cause.
He wanted this transition to be the medicine
he’s been craving for two years now.
But the sorry sap doesn’t see his own folly.
If he can’t take ownership of his role
in our relationship
or any relationship for that matter,
he’ll be doomed forever,
caught in the endless cycle
of perceived victimhood,
looking outside of himself for the answers
that can only come from deep within.
No matter.
By the time all of this catches up to him
I’l be gone.
I’ve watched the narcissus blossom in the spring.
Anything could happen.

The Life I Was Meant to Live

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It arrives slowly,
so slowly I question
if what I’m feeling is real.
But then it begins to build
until the feeling is so present,
so there,
that I can no longer deny it.
It’s a mixture of hope, of lightness,
of real pleasure, joy, relief
that things are changing,
finally changing.
After this harrowing, hellish time,
I emerge from the cave
of the deepest, darkest sadness I have known.
I stand naked, blinking in the bright light,
an infant newly born
into the life I was meant to live…