Tag Archives: poetry

But what if they judge me?

Sometimes when I pour my heart out to someone I am left with a gaping hole.

How will it be received?

How will they respond?

Will what I said even make sense?

 

And if it’s on a Sunday (or a day when I don’t have a whole lot to do) I’ll pace around the house.

Making myself an extra cup of coffee.

Reading a few pages of a book.

Check my phone.

Then picking up my book only to read the same paragraph 3 times over.

Because my mind is just focusing on one thing:

 

What if they judge me?

What if they leave me?

What if they abandon me?

 

Because I shared something in my heart that felt like truth, that felt like there was no other option but to share this particular something…

 

And then I read and hear what I’ve just shared with you above:

 

What if they judge / leave / abandon me?

 

And I come to realize that the real crux of the matter here, is this:

 

What if I judge / leave / abandon me?

 

I know, when I feel this uneasy and worried about receiving validation from another human being, in a very specific form, it is a deep call to stand by my own side. It is a reminder to relinquish judgment and embrace the ways in which I express love and emotions. It is a call to do the things that make me feel cared for.

 

I show up for myself in the way that I show up for my dear friends when they are feeling uneasy.

 

I show up and trust that no matter how the world and its inhabitants may waver around me (and waver they will), I’ve always got a safe place deep within the chambers of my heart and the vessel of my physical form.

 

Show up for yourself today, the way you would for your best friend.

 

Contact me for Intuitive and Recovery Coaching specials running through November by clicking here.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

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

IMG_6661

Tagged , , , ,