When the self betrays the soul
There’s a wounding, a loss
It takes trust and love
For the wound to heal
For the piece that left
To feel safe enough to return
To believe that that betrayal
Will never happen again
What that part cannot know
Is that once it comes back
The self will fight to the death
To keep her home, to keep her whole
I hold you in my heart
My forever-talisman
No one else can see you
But I know you are there
My scarred and broken one
My deepest, darkest night
You will never know despair again
You will never suffer alone
You are what keeps me whole
You are what keeps me sane
Messiness has gotten a bad rap.
From childhood on, I was taught to value tidy and clean over cluttered and dirty.
Being seen as a “mess” is something to avoid at all costs today. There is shame in being seen as messy.
Look at any social media feed. Selfie taking has been developed into an art form. There’s been an increase in nose jobs, and the reason for them? It is people wanting to look better for their selfies! No one, for the most part, is proudly posting their mess. Unless it is an apartment reno in process or a confessional “staged mess” to make a humorous point of some kind.
With such socio-cultural pressure, it is no wonder that I learned to strive for perfection in all things, especially the presentation of my self.
I literally dreaded being seen without makeup or with a hair out of place.
And God forbid I was to have a negative emotion! Shove that way down, baby! Slap a grin on it and pose.
Trouble is, the very nature of life is change. And change, my friends, is messy.
Ergo, life is messy.
It has been quite an unraveling, this perfection mechanism. I’ve had to unpack a load to get to my mess.
And once I found my mess, I had to come to love it.
I will be honest. at first, all I wanted to do was get rid of it!
Thankfully, I have some teachers in my life who are artists. Artists know the value of mess. They helped me understand that it is in my mess that my talent lives.
And so began an embracing. Of my mess. Of change. Of life.
It has been challenging at tines, sure. This is not an overnight process.
But boy is it incredible.
My home is neat and tidy. I am an organized woman. I crave order.
But I relish getting messy and allowing myself to be seen in my mess too. And the most fulfilling parts of my creativity are gloriously messy!
Today, I am a love-able mess living a messy, wonderful, creatively fulfilling life. And I say that with pride, not apology.
Messy is as messy does is more than fine for me.
I learned long ago
How to leave my body
Escape what was
Incomprehensibly horrific
I saved my own life
Salvaged my sanity
(Such as it was)
But there’s a price to be paid for such traveling
You cannot escape the bad
Without missing out on the good
I could leave my body
At any time today
But I choose not to
I have other ways to cope
That don’t cost so much
Recently, a wise woman I know was talking about the earth: how we are the earth and yet are poisoning it. About how confusing and heartbreaking that is.
I cannot stop reflecting on that. This poem reminds me of my own connection to Mother Earth, one that I have come to cherish, but being an urban dweller, I can often “forget.”
I needed this poem today. (Some days are rougher than others.) Maybe you do too.
“And the Great Mother said:
Come my child and give me all that you are.
I am not afraid of your strength and darkness, of your fear and pain.
Give me your tears. They will be my rushing rivers and roaring oceans.
Give me your rage. It will erupt into my molten volcanoes and rolling thunder.
Give me your tired spirit. I will lay it to rest in my soft meadows.
Give me your hopes and dreams. I will plant a field of sunflowers and arch rainbows in the sky.
You are not too much for me. My arms and heart welcome your true fullness.
There is room in my world for all of you, all that you are.
I will cradle you in the boughs of my ancient redwoods and the valleys of my gentle rolling hills.
My soft winds will sing you lullabies and soothe your burdened heart.
Release your deep pain.
You are not alone and you have never been alone.”
~Linda Reuther, Homecoming
I feel you there
All the hearts of those before me
Your dreams are in mine
Or are my dreams echoes
Of what you imagined for yourselves
I want to be what you could not be
Do what you could not
Live more fully
More freely
Give those who’ll follow me
Dreams less encrusted
With the pain of the past
Create a new narrative
Of True Love and Joy
Give the future a love that will last
Where is she
I sit on the bed and wait
Eyes closed, heart in hand
Try again to conjure
The girl I once was
The one before
Before you
Before it
Where is she
Where am I
I don’t need a mnemonic device to remember you
You’re literally etched into the stone of my being
I couldn’t get rid of you if I tried
And believe me, I have, with all my might
Tried. To. Forget. You.
No priest could exorcise you from my soul
Nor surgeon excise you from my spirit
We are inextricably linked, now, forever
I have learned to grow around you
Like a tree around a stone.
Lay down next to me
On a bed of pine needles
Underneath a silversmith moon
Let me tend to your wounds
Take you into my body
Gonna wrap you into a cocoon
Of warm skin and breath
Pressed breasts and lips
Leave our selves, become one in our spoon
Invisible hand
Grips my neck
Stifles my breath
Can’t break free
Of me, yet not
If I drown it
I drown me
Beyond the Skinny Branches 