Continuing On

Within the Unfolding

Life continued to unfold.

With the reconnection

to a deeper sense of self

came a lingering sadness

for the difficult path

traveled in order to reach

a more expanded view

and for the equally difficult

path of awakening

of the greater whole.

Becoming more at ease within

the unfolding took a little bit

of getting used to.

It helped to remember

to remain in the sacred space

of the present moment —

where spirit, body,

and higher mind were joined —

where reprieve and healing

had been found so many times.

Tenderness, Unsorted

Something Beautiful

There was a longing for some missed step along the way, some kind of orientation to life or honoring of the intensity of the spiritual journey that didn’t happen soon enough. And so finding my way back to where I could sense a loving higher self had been a long, tedious journey.

The process of gathering up fractured parts of self came with its own kind of heartache. Somehow, thankfully, it also came with added tenderness. That’s what kept me in the game. It was the awe at how I kept finding just the right piece just before I really needed it and the resolve to stick with myself no matter what.  It was the determination  to learn to trust life and to turn what looked like a complete mess into something beautiful — again and again.

Tenderness

Against All Odds

There were moments of deeply felt grief, having endured a long, intense spiritual and human journey. There were regrets and lingering physical scars and emotional wounds.  And there was tenderness, something that was understood deep down to somehow be the whole point.

There was the understanding, in the brief moments of outer calm, that I had given up many things on this journey — but not this. I wouldn’t have been able to endure without this tenderness of spirit.

I wouldn’t have been able to be present in a world of challenges without having broken apart and come back together. I wouldn’t have been able to look at overwhelming challenges and destruction without knowing what is possible. I had been to the edge of destruction in my own way and had, against all odds, transformed — not with my own limited human self alone, but in cooperation with something much bigger that I didn’t quite understand.

At a certain point, it became clear that standing on the edge of destruction was only one way this thing could go. It was possible to be moved also by respect and compassion for having made it so far and the passion to prevent future suffering wherever I could. It was possible to nurture and allow the smallest spark of pure love to ignite.

Unsorted

Unfilled

All things were returned to their rightful place. Parts of self matured naturally with the unconditional presence held by those who had endured brokenness and the intimate process of putting the pieces back — having taken care to leave a tender space unfilled where it would have been easier to attempt to fill it up. What was once desperate attempts at survival became wisdom and loving self-restraint.

Quieting, Unsorted

A Quiet Prayer

For a time,

everything reflected back

a sense of disconnection,

but there was a faded memory

of a deeper truth

just beneath the surface —

a quiet prayer that,

when held just lightly enough,

began the gentle task

of transformation.

Life was returned

to the sacred prayer

it was meant to be.

All things were held safely

within this transformation

into tenderness.

Quieting, Unsorted

A New Kind of Thought

Sometimes there were no words. And then somehow, mysteriously, worlds began to well up from somewhere beyond. A new kind of thought from a gentler place began to transform all that seemed unreachable. Gentle prayers began to take form out of the resolve to surrender everything  — just to remember this place for a moment.

There came a desire to remain in this place within — just a little longer — no matter what appeared on the surface or how big the challenges seemed.

Tenderness

Something Beautiful

Transformation into tenderness meant being okay when life wasn’t all sorted out. It meant holding a space for all the words that, for whatever reason, just wouldn’t ever be spoken. It meant detaching with love and acceptance from all that had been left in the past, often without resolution — not knowing what would become of the tender ache left in its place — trusting it would become something beautiful.