Tag: hope

Only This

Tenderness March 13, 2019

Each time I seemed

to fall back down,

I wondered how I would ever

find the strength to rise again.

There were times

of integration when I would

somehow lose my footing

and in a little bit of panic

seem to lose my way

and cry out,

which never went particularly well —

to put it mildly.

There was, in these times,

a quiet, wordless  prayer

inside my heart.

Often it was the only thing

left to hold on to.

No matter how great the

contrast between what I felt

in my heart

and what appeared in front of me

and in my cluttered mind,

I continued on —

declaring once more,

perhaps with more conviction,

If the only reprieve to be found

is in my heart space

with this one continuous

quiet prayer,

then I will hold

only this.

A Love Nothing Could Touch

Tenderness February 22, 2019

It was a little risky to dare to understand tenderness. It meant first knowing the opposite. It meant knowing bitter coldness and disconnect, the only way out being back through painful layers of healing as each healed layer began to let in a little more light of hope and courage to continue on. Aiming to get to a future place or remaining stuck in past stories became courage to drop more deeply into the present. It was an extreme path — the result being the capacity to hold and love the most traumatized parts of the human experience. There was accumulated trauma from painful attempts to heal the original trauma, and there was a love and compassion nothing could ever touch or take away.

Against All Odds

Tenderness November 30, 2018

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.

Always

Continuing On July 17, 2018

Sometimes the only thing

I knew to do

was to keep going,

which undoubtedly meant

surrendering to the creative flow

of life.

And so there was the

painful dropping of pieces

I had held so carefully

and an understanding

I seemed to have with God

that I would sometimes

hold on a little longer,

push ahead,

lose my center,

and struggle to find any

resemblance of grace.

But I would always keep going.

Out of Nothingness

Quieting June 30, 2018

It was the small miracles,

the quiet inspirations, that kept my heart

pressing on long enough

to find a path that didn’t lead

further away from itself.

It was the gentle, comforting way

words formed out of nothingness

and courage was found

to look challenges in the face —

knowing the transformative power

of surrender first hand.

It was the remembrance of the

turning away from my own heart

and that first step

taken to find a way back.

Somehow

Continuing On, Unsorted June 24, 2018

When I looked back, after a while, the story I had carried had faded. It was the subtler, sometimes painfully subtle story beyond the surface that kept my attention.

It was the faint memory of all the times I had managed to allow a quieting,  just enough to hear the quiet prayer spoken from my own heart — somewhere long ago.

It was each moment I had allowed my heart to remain open, even though I was sure I didn’t know how to continue on, that had woven a more beautiful story — somehow.