I began to practice
the art of allowing.
It no longer occured to me
to try to force anything.
Instead I began to find joy
in allowing space
for pieces to come together
and in being a witness to
a world in constant transition
into tenderness.
For a while
it seemed something had
gone terribly wrong.
I had lived through
much contrast and
overcome many challenges.
And yet part of me still felt unsafe
as the contrast continued.
Somehow, just like the very first time
I dared to stop and allow
all of the pieces I had been holding
a little too tightly
to fall around me,
I found the courage again
to gather up the pieces
and sink a little more deeply
into my heart —
taking one more step
into tenderness.
After a while
a gentler way through the winding
roads of this human journey
became a little clearer
as the pieces of my own
shattered heart began to appear
a little less broken
and a little more like unpolished
treasures entrusted to my care.
I was never without
connection with a deeper space
within the greater whole,
though it seemed
to dance around a bit
through different forms
and natural things —
reaching back again —
softly touching the tender,
hidden spaces I once tried
to resolve.
Words became a gentle
path back into the willingness
to feel and to be a little more
present.
After a while, they began
to echo the silence of
my deepest heart —
winding their way through
old wounds —
soothing whatever appeared
along the way.
Again and again
I found my way back to my heart,
it was a relief
to be free of all that had
seemed like too much.
I came to recognize the feeling
of too much
as a sign I had attached
somewhere other than my heart.
Again and again,
I found my way to
the present moment
and gently reconnected
with my heart —
refocusing on each moment
as it unfolded —
regaining my trust in life
a little at a time.
It made no difference
how many times I seemed
to lose my footing.
It didn’t matter how many
times I fell.
After a while,
I understood I could
always find my way again.
After a while, I realized
I was, in fact,
this space within my heart.
I came to understand I had
survived something difficult
and landed in a lower vibration —
for a while
where the sound of my soul
seemed faint.
But I could find my way
again.
It took a little bit of courage
allowing softer thoughts to form —
landing on a surprisingly comforting
background of emptiness —
flowing effortlessly,
drifting a little more deeply
into my deepest heart.
Maybe it was the gentle rhythm
I had allowed myself to feel
once again,
for just a moment,
or a word formed of this
same emptiness
allowed to echo even more —
somehow, gently,
against all odds,
from this deeper space
within.
It took a little practice
learning how to soothe
all that was within.
It took a huge dose
of gentleness
to become willing to stop
and allow my heart to be
the safe place I had been
trying to find for so long.
And so I learned
to soothe frightened parts
of me
through my willingness
to face each moment
as it came,
knowing at any point
I could stop and gather words
out of emptiness
to soothe what couldn’t be
reached in any other way.
I found journies of the heart
can be difficult.
It was easy to become
discouraged and a little more
difficult to feel my way forward
and through leftover debris from
early challenges
and to become willing to stand
alone with God.
Each time I felt I couldn’t take
another step,
life somehow showed
just enough tenderness
to inspire one more.
