Journey to Your Deepest Self

Partly Cloudy

More rain on the way And I can’t feel anything but grateful for it Because of three years of drought Of being careful and not wasting Which of course meant no running through the sprinkler For the kids and no water balloon tosses Alex came home In the middle of the day And we sat together knee to knee Leaning in And came to understand some things And those were things such as There are no guarantees and security is an illusion Such as fear just wants to be held Such as we are vulnerable and we are strong Such as the desire for freedom Is a wild horse being broken By men with ropes and whips And that I’m here for the horse Across the street DeanDean the dancing machine Is looking at the sky Rocking on his heels Opening a can of beer I don’t know what he thinks But he asked Alex if he could take the boys golfing some time Since they don’t go to school As if schoolessness equals empty space As if I don’t even exist Maybe I don’t I want to be at the beach today Staring out into the gray vagueness of the sea Letting the sand trickle through my fingers Remembering another place Of browner skinned people Fortunate encounters that lead to All-night conversations full of raptness and accord With music in the background But I’m afraid there would be war I wonder if Earth Will collapse in on herself After we’ve bled dry all her channels And then when I hear Ian Crashing around in the kitchen I wonder what to make for dinner He asks if we’re in the phone book And I don’t even know When I was very young I thought you could call information And ask them any question And they would have the answer Yes, he says we’re in the phone book Oh good That’s proof of something isn’t...

To My Younger Self

Dear One, I want you to know something very important, that no one has ever told you before. So please listen closely, because this is so important. It’s okay that you hated your mother. It’s really okay. You couldn’t have done better than you did. It was horrendous having her as a mother. You were all alone, so scared, and afraid of her. She attacked you, emotionally, energetically, even physically. You did your best to love her, to stay open, and it wasn’t possible. It was too painful. Of course you would want to push all of that away. You had to close down, in order to survive. Please don’t be hard on yourself. You are a wonderful person. You are loving. You are caring. You are a beautiful, pure child. You can’t expect yourself to be able to deal with forces that even the adults didn’t know what to do with, huge transpersonal forces. Your mother, she also did the best she could. She took in so much denial energy in her life. She didn’t know what to do with it either. She was like you in that way. She did love you as best as she knew how. It was hard for her. She wasn’t able to be there for you in a way that a mother should be there for her child. She didn’t know how. She was terrified, so traumatized. It was more than she could handle also. Now I’m grown up and I can be there for you. You don’t have to carry this alone anymore. I love you so much. I’m going to deal with the denial energy. I’m going to give it so much love that it will melt. It won’t be able to continue any more. It’s the love that’s going to fix all of this. It’s the love that’s why all this happened. And it’s all okay now. You’ve done your job and you’ve done it well – delivering the denial energy to me so that I with the Folks can transmute it now. Thank you sweet one. You’ve been so brave. You took on a big job, and you’ve done it well. It hasn’t been easy. You’ve done an amazing job of finding your way through all of it. Please know that I am so grateful to you. The Folks are so very grateful. And you can give it to me now. You don’t have to carry the burden any more. You are free to open to the love fully. It’s all okay....

I am a Tree

And old. Fierce wind whips  ‘round me, loosens and scatters the dried leaves of weary, winter fears and leaves me almost naked.   Everyone, anyone can see me!   No full-grown leaves of modesty to cover my blemishes, the turn of my limbs, my knobby wrists and elbows. My begging arms, my ancient, grounded roots apparent.   I tremble, springing with the rush of air. Shake with the dread of being judged  too big. Cut down. Shake and shake until I know I want to grow again.   My new leaves flail, lit with an urgency to reach and move, show off, hang on, roll with the punching gusts. I begin to enjoy this ride, this freedom, and my leaves’ determined grip, their laughter as they clap green hands together....
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