Thursday 22 January 2015

Indigestion



My doctor says I'm
suffering from verbal 
indigestion.

I have letters on my mind,
words in my heart and
sentences on either side of
my semi-colon.

As she prescribes,
I drink a lot of water.
What comes out is sometimes
pure sh*t
But other times it's
Sheer poetry.

- Vera

Friday 16 January 2015

Forgiveness

One of the hardest things I am learning to do is forgive myself. Not because I maim and torture puppies, drown kittens or am generally a horrible person.  Not because I cheat or steal or live my life with a careless disregard for others, but for sometimes taking too long to see the truth; for allowing fear to get in my way; for sometimes unintentionally hurting people I care about.

That's how I am starting this year, with a need to forgive myself.

Perhaps my expectations of myself are too high for wanting to be able to step outside who I am and already be who I am in the process of becoming.  Perhaps I need to remember that the mistakes and the consequences that come with them are the process that makes the change possible.  Perhaps I need to remember that my intentions are almost always set with only the best outcome in mind, even if that's not the outcome I reap.

If I was watching a friend encounter what I am going through, I would generously tell him/her that they were being way too hard on themselves. That they did the best they could at the time and if that's not acceptable then so be it, but it's not a friend, it's me.

It's hard enough to watch people hurt, harder still to know I'm the reason for it.


Thursday 15 January 2015

Possibility - Poem

I held his heart
so closely that I could
feel it beat inside me.
I could taste the breath
he took into his lungs.

When he ate
my belly became full.
His laughter bubbled and
spilled from my lips
while moisture from his
tears clung to my lashes.

Now his sadness echoes
through my empty chest,
His hot despair rides the
current through my veins and
acid leaks from my eyes
masking my beauty
even from myself.

Still somehow the knowledge
that love's light lays in
our eyes and God's goodness
is embedded in the
very thought of our touch
penetrates the illusion.

My heart holds fast to the truth
and has no ears to hear differently
So I open my hands
and my hears in hopes that
he will feel
me beating inside  him.
That he will taste the hope
I breathe into my lungs
and that when I eat, he
will become full with possibility.

- Vera

Sunday 4 January 2015

Failing Greatly - Me, Not the Book

I first read Dr. Brene Brown's book Daring Greatly just over a year ago.  At the time I felt so encouraged and inspired to authentically share myself.

After this last week, when I found myself stuffing very raw and very real emotions down into every dark corner I could find within, I realize that I need a refresher course. A reminder of how not just appropriate but necessary it is for me to show myself.  If not to everyone then at least to a few somebodies.

The funniest thing about vulnerability is that I can't really hide it.  

Mask, yes.  I can make it look like anger, like sadness, like incredible competence or, wait for it...I don't give a shit and you can't make me."

Depending on the depth of my challenge, I will rub through the list once or twice which is really handy for keeping people wondering what the fuck is going on but also robs me of the opportunity to get my needs met. 

As emotionally savvy as I think my magical mask makes me, I haven't found a way to make my vulnerability look like happiness or joy or anything else that remotely resembles a positive emotion.  

So, here I am on January 4, me who doesn't make resolutions, gritting my teeth and preparing to give myself a kick in the ego by rereading this book.

I would like to say I'm surprised I need the reminder, that I expected the first reading to sink in and take root, forevermore providing me with courage an wisdom.

Truth is, I am a voracious reader and it is one of only four books that I keep at my bedside. One, out of all the thousands of books that I have read which has the ability to put out my emotional flame while setting my soul on fire.

This evening I will be pouring my glass of wine, adding bubbles to my bath and setting out on this journey so that 2015 is as joyous and fulfilling as it is meant to be.


Thursday 1 January 2015

A Walk Along the Beach


Being in Destin Florida has allowed me to indulge one of my most decadent desires...daily walks along the beach.

Day after day miles and miles of white sand squished through my toes and adhered to most surfaces of my skin. I didn't mind the sand. It's one of the best parts, really. It's unpredictable and shifting nature causes me to slow my gait and enjoy the walk. Standing still, feet firmly planted in wet sand as the sea rushes in to wash over me is especially delightful for as the water recedes, it slowly erodes the platform on which I stand, reminding me of how impermanent everything is.


Almost every day, I have taken some time to examine and collect seashells. I like picking them up to admire their colors before running my fingers over their various textures. Some shells I keep, others I show to whoever happens to be sharing my walk before I let them fall back to the sand. On any such walk I would find uniform shells, exceedingly smooth, startlingly white and available by the handful. I'm always surprised, however, by the ones that find their way into my pockets. They are decidedly different from each other, suggesting to me that I don't have a set criteria.

On New Year's Eve I took one such walk. I bent and picked, bent and picked my way down the coastline until I found myself standing a fair ways down from where I started holding this shell in my hand...



I turned it over curiously. As always, it was different than any of the others I had collected. It was far from uniform in shape. I guess some might even call it broken, yet it was also totally perfect for whatever calm seas and stormy weather caused it to wash up on shore.

I didn't stop to look for the missing pieces...didn't ponder why it doesn't look like the others. Rather I palmed it, admired the gleaming innards, stroked it's ridged exterior, ran my thumb along the jagged edges then placed it in my pocket. In that moment I was blessed with the knowledge that I have found a handful of friends who do the same with me.

As I moved farther down the beach I tilted my head toward the darkening sky and opened my heart to everything the universe held in her open hand.