living in the shadows

I have been gone for a while
living in the shadows, the darkness,
and finding comfort there,
familiarity,
safety.

I can see the light
but it scares me.
The shadows are quiet,
impose no pressure to speak or do,
their cold embrace enveloping me
until we warm.

I’m liking it here, in the dark.
It feels familiar
for I am often here
though not for long periods of time.
There are bursts of sunlight
that beam through the clouds
interrupting my accumulation of days.
The sun tries to tell me
that really, I’m OK
because I can see the sun
and be happy for a while;
I don’t qualify for a new label.
So when the clouds roll over again
I start back at day one.

And I ask myself the age-old question:
on some level, have I always been this way?

And then I ask the question:
am I trying to make something out of nothing,
this earnesty to classify
and put myself in a box per criteria,
or is this just a simple part
of the human experience?

This time,
I am staying in the darkness for a long time.
Longer than any time before.

I feel scared of everything
all at the same time,
all the time.
Paralyzed.

I have either lost myself
or changed –
I know not which it is.

And I don’t have the energy
to do
what they tell me I should do.
I don’t want to deny the darkness
in an attempt to feel better;
I want to stay here.

Eventually I will let someone down
and I can only blame the darkness
for so many things
because after all,
shouldn’t I be strong enough to fight it off?

But then
someone on the outside
saw me, and saw the shadows.
She acknowledged,
she validated,
and she nudged me towards a new source of light.

I have been gone for a while
and I’m not back yet
but maybe,
someday,
eventually.

in a heartbeat

Trust that everything you have done
has been for a purpose,
even if that purpose is hidden away in a fog
or disguised as something you do not recognize.

It was not all for nothing,
nothing ever is.

Trust that the light will shine for you
one day,
and that you would do it all over again
in a heartbeat.

fragments of a whole

A few months ago, I saw a quote on Instagram that read:
If you only share fragments of yourself with the world, you will never feel whole.

It only takes me one hand to count the number of times in my life where I have felt completely, undeniably, whole. Like I had nothing in me to hide and I chose to stand there, in the wholeness of myself, unapologetically.

Those moments are like shooting stars in the sky that often escape our sight until the tail end of their trajectory disappears over the horizon. A look to the sky, muttering to ourselves, “I could have sworn I just saw a flash of light.”

Yes, a flash of light.

And yet, there are people who seem to live in the light. It doesn’t flash for them. Instead, it acts like a spotlight, a source of light that lies within them, and emanates the light through and out from them. Only rarely does it dim.

The hours of time I spent in psychology courses, and therapy sessions, and conversation with others, tells me that we each have our own, inner spotlight. It’s in there, somewhere. It’s not a matter of some people being born with it, the lucky ones, and others not. It’s in there, somewhere. First, it’s about finding it. Then, it’s about building and growing and empowering the vulnerability to power on the light, and keep it burning.

But how?

How does one share all these fragments of themselves to reach a state of wholeness? Does it require verbal declarations to an audience? Does it require a press release to disseminate amongst society? Can these fragments be shared through mannerisms and appearances and preferential activities? After the act of sharing has been done, how can one be assured the message has been received?

Maybe privacy isn’t the gold standard that we should be striving for: to keep some, or most, things about ourselves private, only privy to those in our immediate circle. To maintain privacy can invoke feelings of shame, or regret, or unworthiness if one believes that the world would be better off if people could see only the mask they have deemed appropriate, and safe, to be seen by the greater world.

But, you see, the more that people know about you, the more they can understand, empathize, support, and love.

Perhaps it’s best if people know about the medical treatment you’re receiving, the loss and grief and heartbreak you’re struggling to navigate through, the joy and celebration you feel for the positive news you’ve just received, the thing you think that only you have ever felt when in reality, there are many, many people in the world who understand how you’re feeling. Perhaps it’s best if people know your dreams, your goals, the passions that make you come alive, or the deepest, darkest secrets you have buried deep within your heart because you believe they will only cast shame upon you if they were given words, and space, to breathe.

To bring all parts of us out into the open, out into the world, allows the dark and the light to be seen, to be celebrated, to be wrapped in wholeness. To understand that in the depths of the human experience, we have more in common with one another than we have different. That by finding the courage to bring forward all the fragments of yourself out into the world beyond your body and mind, you may inspire someone else to do the same. What a beautiful ripple to create in the waters of humanity.

I continue to gather the flashes of light, the tail ends of shooting stars and the warmth I remember feeling in my body as I stood tall and strong and true. I gather these fragments, these beams of light, to stand in wholeness.

Will you?

re-writing stories

On the centerpiece, on the table
they have sat, unopened,
untouched save for the dust cloth.

Unwilling to admit my longing,
I fill my head with stories
of how the timing must be better,
not now,
to make the experience worthwhile.

The present moment, for months,
unworthy.

Unworthy
of experiencing the beauty,
the tranquility,
the magic
of moments like these.

Re-writing stories
by candlelight.

light to guide me back

I lost her
I wonder where she went
why she felt the need to get away.

I have been separated from this page
it feels like an eternity
do I remember how to do this?

Extending compassion
into a space hollow and dark
offers light,
light to guide me back.

desire for new music

Narratives cycling over and over in my head
like records on repeat
continue playing in the background
despite attempts to press stop,
pull the power cord from the wall,
destroy the battery.
The songs keep playing.

My attempts to play a new song, or songs,
of a different genre
are acknowledged, briefly,
but cast aside in preference of the old and familiar.
Why do I do this? How?

I devote my being to this cause,
to make it through one, two, even four songs at a time,
slowly rewiring,
building comfort with new genres,
new artists.

It will take a long time
to sever and rebuild,
but I can see a light shining
on the new music, waiting to be wired into me,
and it’s beautiful.

a routine to maintain upkeep

With the cloth in my hand
I wipe away the dust, the grime,
make the porcelain shine white
and smell like lemons.

Week after week, it’s become a routine
to maintain upkeep.

With the breath flowing in and out of my nose,
I wipe away the splattered remnants
of anxiety’s lashes,
where she’s struck out against my body,
trying to take control of me.
My breath restores the light,
so I can shine, and smell like lemons.

Day after day, moment after moment,
minute after minute,
it’s become a routine
to maintain upkeep.

natural duality

The moon rests at the peak of its cycle
full, and bright,
shining radiant white light
down upon the world.
Contrasting against the enveloping jet black night
it calls forward shapes, animals,
out from the dark and into my view.
I hardly need my headlights
as I travel down the highway.

I marvel at this natural duality
of light and dark,
at the dualities surrounding me.
I can see the light, I can see the dark,
vast they are, in all they invite to live
within them.
Welcoming and accepting they must be,
for I see dark in light, and light in dark.
Perspective matters.

Choice also matters.
When I can see the light and the dark
and their inter-connectedness,
choice matters
and the choice is mine.