Sometimes I get tired of cooperating
With myself and want to break out of my rules
Ignore my body’s needs and just
Scream as loud as I can in the street
Without a care for who will hear me
Or what anyone will think.
I want to rip off my mask
and stop following my rules
And just let go of the reins
that guide me down my safe
Path with my safe food using my
Safe words thinking my safe thoughts
Then I look back and remember
all these years defining myself,
defining my needs,
Defining my safety and boundaries.
I stand on this vista looking
Back on the journey that brought me
Past my childhood pain, my sexual
Orientation, my career choices
Past the miracles of birth and the
Devastating losses, beauty and pain,
Understanding and wisdom
Right to where my feet stand now.
I am living my herstory
One day at a time,
struggling and succeeding
Loving and losing, and loving again
Books are being written now
About our Herstories and histories
To be published for others to read
How we soothed our hearts
And learned about our souls
Through the great turning and
Ascending of our planet from a
Place of competition and separation
To a place of cooperation and oneness.
This journey I am on is our journey
And I’m documenting my uniqueness
By living my life.
We journey a long way.
We struggle, survive and overcome
Filling chapters in our souls
On our way home.
I cannot tell you how the light comes. What I know is that it is more ancient than imagining.
That it travels across an astounding expanse to reach us.
That it loves searching out what is hidden, what is lost, what is forgotten or in peril or in pain.
That it has a fondness for the body, for finding its way toward flesh, for tracing the edges of form, for shining forth through the eye, the hand, the heart.
I cannot tell you how the light comes, but that it does. That it will. That it works its way into the deepest dark that enfolds you, though it may seem long ages in coming or arrive in a shape you did not foresee.
And so may we this day turn ourselves toward it. May we lift our faces to let it find us. May we bend our bodies to follow the arc it makes. May we open and open more and open still to the blessed light that comes.
Participants' Reflections:
Years ago, I used to see a couple, two women, both healers. Both dressed in white. I always thought that’s something they had to do in order to deal with their energy. And I’ve wondered if I need to do that. During the meditation, I realized my needs around food are my way of dressing in white because I have to refine myself so carefully. If I venture off the path, my body and energy reacts. With the idea of acceptance, I have to look at my food limitations as dressing in white.
I was thinking about light. I got up early this morning and was stroking my cat, and there were little sparks of static electricity against her black fur. Then I was thinking about the power of light. I think it encourages nature. It’s not just the warming but it’s the light changing and the bulbs beginning to wake up under the ground seeking the light above. The animals leaving their hibernation sleep. I think light is powerful. We all know that, and I keep bumping into it.
The one that jumped out at me was about the food. It’s a metaphor for all of us. We all struggle getting off our path with ourselves and it’s easy then to be irritated and judgmental. There’s a number of things I can do to myself. Getting off the path, being aware we got off it, and getting back on. We’ve become more aware of things, like how we punish ourselves. And when we are aware, we can get back on the path.
This hit home for me. The first time I quit using drugs, I became anorexic. It’s like my psyche needed some sort of addiction to survive. I’m very sensitive to various families of food. So between the addiction and the foods I can’t eat, at times it feels like it’s being dictated to me. I feel caged and sometimes I want to break out. When I am craving something, I ask myself what am I hungry for. It always boils down to love. That’s what I’m hungry for and that’s what I can offer to everyone else. Yet, when I’m in that place, sometimes that’s the most challenging thing for me to generate. I have to remind myself I don’t have to generate it. It’s something we all are. This group provides sustenance for me that soothes and satiates my soul. Thank you.
The food thing speaks to me. This week I’ve tried to be careful. I’ve been told my body is sensitive to what I eat. I’ve tried to be careful about what I eat and I have felt more space inside my body. I felt lighter but I have gained weight. My son offered to make breakfast. I can’t just watch him eat. I know it’s the love of the offer and the sharing of a meal. It’s so hard to not eat. I tried to tell myself I’m not hungry, but I don’t feel that I have anything else to provide soothing. So for now, I lose the battle.
I’ve recently joined a Facebook group called Appalachain Cooks. It’s been wonderful to connect with this group of people who are making and eating foods I grew up with. I can’t eat 95% of the foods, but I’m finding it so comforting. It’s connecting me to my childhood. I find it fascinating. I am posting things, like a salad I made. I posted about Miracle Whip and Ketchup, and a thousand people responded that they grew up with that. It’s connecting me with the comfort of my childhood. Thank you.
Thank you for the reading. I liked it. To me, it’s about choices and acceptance. I am trying to submit something for a fellowship. I never get these things. I was just turned down by one. I have to remind myself that I learned from the last rejection. I have a choice to give up or keep trying. Put my best foot forward and keep trying. It’s hard, feels discouraging. I’m grateful for the reading because I have a choice. Do I want to look at myself as a failure or as a success in my own eyes? I am a success. Thank you for the reminder.
Normally, we eat healthy food. The other day my spouse wasn’t feeling well and she needed comfort food. My elementary school had fabulous cooks so I channeled them and made a great dinner of the kind of food we can eat in moderation. It had tremendous healing qualities.
My father used to say, ‘you are what you eat.’ I’m thankful that we had so many vegetables and meat from the farm I grew up on. I’ve had to watch my weight. Sometimes, I just break down and make my mother’s cornbread and lemon orange carrot cake. The only thing that helps me with my weight is walking every day. As we age, we get dehydrated. So I try to remind myself to drink water, a glass before a meal. My mother always used Miracle Whip, what a beautiful name for a mayonnaise.
Thank you for receiving my words, for sharing your hearts, for sharing your thoughts, for laughing along with me, for your tears as well. I am grateful I trust my process of writing, I trust this space enough to share it. Thank you for listening to my words.
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