Tag Archives: poetry

Sometimes yoga looks like three folding chairs. {yoga of recovery}

Sometimes yoga looks like three fold-up chairs in a group therapy room that smells like coffee. And you talk about the things you feel ashamed of, you share the things you think no one wants to hear because you are afraid they will judge you or not accept you or not love you.

And you use this space to practice being you. You use this space to practice being human.

And you find out that the other dude has a similar story to mine and I’ve known him for X months and we never shared this.

Because yoga looks like intimacy. Looks like trust. Looks like holding space for someone, no matter what.

Oh and then maybe we do some poses, or we just keep talking for the remaining 26 minutes or something. And sometimes you hear a story that breaks your heart and you’re so damn grateful that the person is there, sitting across from you telling their story.

You’re so damn grateful that they weren’t successful at giving up on this life. You’re so damn grateful they are here telling you how grateful they are for the simple things in their life, the things they always took for granted.

And you realize how grateful you are for everyone who has ever held space for you. Who has ever listened to you and let you open up. And just BEEN there.

It is truly a gift that we get to surround ourselves with these people as we grow older. I’m grateful for all the souls who hold space for me. 


To just be me. 

#thankyouthankyouthankyou

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Adios by Naomi Shihab Nye

IMG_6674I read this poem, fittingly, on my last day in Colorado. It was a part of a piece of artwork created by one of my hosts. When I was feeling sentimental about my vacation and adventure time coming to an end. It made so much sense to me, so beautifully soft and eloquent. I can’t help but want to share it.

Adios

It is a good word, rolling off the tongue
no matter what language you were born with,
Use it. Learn where it begins,
the small alphabet of departure,
how long it takes to think of it,
then say, then be heard.

Marry it. More than any golden ring,
it shines, it shines.
Wear it on every finger
till your hands dance,
touching everything easily,
letting everything, easily, go.

Strap it to your back like wings.
Or a kite-tail. The stream of air behind a jet.
If you are known for anything,
let it be the way you rise out of sight
when your work is finished.

Think of things that linger: leaves,
cartons and napkins, the damp smell of mold.

Think of things that disappear.

Think of what you love best,
what brings tears into your eyes.

Something that said adios to you
before you knew what it meant
or how long it was for.

Explain little, the word explains itself.
Later perhaps. Lessons following lessons,
like silence following sound.

~Naomi Shihab Nye
from Words Under the Words

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