This goes out to anyone
who’s ever been too big for their surroundings
to anyone who’s ever been afraid to walk
through the school yard
to anyone who sat with a ready made school paper
waiting for others
So they didn’t have to walk out from the classroom
This is written for anyone
who has done everything in their power
to fit in
But haven’t succeeded because their inner light
has been too bright
And this is written for anyone
Vulnerable enough and strong enough to declare
that they have the right to stand up
This is who I am!
When you’re bullied, the last thing you want to do
Is draw attention to yourself
Because it means you’ll get hurt
And nobody will help.
But I’m here to say
that it is okay to be seen
that who you are inside will draw to you who you most want to be with.
You will find your pack
by howling out your name.
And after that, nothing will ever again
Be the same.
I’m so wearied,
fighting against your emptiness
my body rebels against
close without intimacy
keeping sleep at bay.
I talk until my throat is hoarse
and it does no good
the intensity flares
making our faces burn.
I wish I had words for this
so we could destroy this pattern
that eats away
at my love for you
I don’t even dare to think
of your love for me right now.
I’ve been talking a lot about that feeling of change. It is really strong this week and I’ve been exploring it with sound exercises from this lovely book by Roger Love, Set Your Voice Free. “Mum mum mum, gug gug gug, ney ney ney.” I think all of my neighbors are by now aware of the fact that I have a new hobby. Voicework is so incredibly immediate in moving both feelings, energy and senses. Also, I’ve torn up some more old paper, photos and I’ve done a lot of dishes & stain removal of different sorts.
This evening I’m going to the local hotel, treated by the wonderful Engineer, to just invite change in, hoping it will bring with it some words.
When There Are No Words
I have been in these woods before
Impossible to define where they are
No fog this time
My mind is frantically
trying to grasp on to something
But there is nothing
It is not like falling
Just endless walking
in deep green shadows.
There is a woman with a giraffe
tattooed to her calf
in my morning café
I’m listening to “Rewrite this Story”
and as always, my inside space opens
up with longing
I come here, to be lost in music
to revel in magic
rekindle my hope
experience my core.
in the immersion with comings and
navy plates and pink striped tiny socks
twitter, linkedin and facebook
everything gets blurred
I forget to breathe
But staring through the orange wall
here, fidgeting and stretching my body
moving my fingers
allowing the music into my toes
… my soul comes back
all the animals of my exuberance
tip toe back
my inner landscape glows with colors again
everything nonessential falls away
like a cat’s summer coat
I find my senses in art, in color
in words, in experiences, in hearing my song
sung by someone else
The humdrum of the world,
it is all good, and matters very little.
Mostly it takes care of itself, as long as
I take care of my inner world.
SO now that things are speeding up
everything is happening at once
I am dancing in a swirl of every day
With my children, my husband, the company,
clients, art work, poems
Bowing and scraping and leaping
Whirling like a dervish
and laying on the floor, just breathing
in all the different kinds of color
that one person can experience
When dancing, keep your center,
let the limbs move and react directly
to the music
Surrender to the joy of movement
It is the same in dancing with life
Keep the core of joy in focus
allow all action to dance its way
from impulse to impulse
Sometimes I just need to lean on you
quitely breathing your scent
You are here.
In the midst of cooking pasta, picking up
pet shop figurines, peeling carrots,
going through home work,
the warmth of you
has a special flavor of home.
with expensive piña colada ice cream
like snow and breathing
Is enough for now.
These fifteen minutes
allow me to revel in our love.
Strong and luminous.
Silence about the torment
Silencing the regular losing of myself,
that I have come to expect & endure.
But no numbing this experience.
No drugs, thank you.
It is what it is. I am who I am.
I’m drinking it all in. The agony without reason.
The faceless bliss. Everything in between.
My life. My experience. Thank you.
If it frightens you. That is. Fine.
It terrifies me. How identity can melt into
suffering. No catastrophies. No disasters. Just pain.
I do not believe in normal.
Do not sign on the dotted line of appropriate inner
directions and reactions.
To thine own self be true, is a loaded statement. What
it means is a personal journey.
There is too much life here.
Do you know how even a beautiful sound [especially a beautiful sound],
too loud, hurts the ears? So it is sometimes,
with myself and life.
Too much, so loud. That I hurt all over. Lest I keep firm boundaries
around my tender core.
Pad each stimulating event with expanses of
solitude, music, space, physical movement, freedom, love.
Otherwise you find me writhing in pain. Beauty turned excruciate.
Everyday details turned into an elaborate torture of overwhelm.
I don’t understand this woman I call myself.
But dutifully, passionately, I scribe and paint her experiences
With the hope of someday
making sense of all this
happening in the inner landscape of me/her.
It is like understanding the weather.
Why is it raining today?
Why is the sun scorching?
So in the midst of my scribing, I try to remember, how to breathe.
At times like this morning by the traffic lights, breathing
is close to impossible.
Solar plexus moving only by force, doggedly, the air
wanting to hide
at the base of my throat, shy to move.
At times the breath is like a slow tide
I am the scribe.
Remembering to experience
the storms, the lulls, peace.
Remembering I feel everything. I own nothing.
World, make sense
Sometimes it seems I’m permeable
Every mood and emotion floating through me
which is okay,
just as long as I remember to let them. Move.
Getting stuck is when
I start holding on
Soon everything flows over
Too big to contain
It is not mine not mine not mine
I keep telling myself
I feel everything, I own nothing
Get on the track
Let my running feet move everything
Let my words touch what they may
What comes out of me does not belong to me anymore
It touches, flies west, leaves nothing, sticks on
depending on who it encounters.
None of my business. None of my business.
I am here to create and let go. Create and let go.
Deep frozen pizza for dinner
and deep frozen shameful longings
in my dreams
as long as I keep my expressivness secret,
the shame doesn’t thaw
I can keep walking in the mists
of my own mysteries,
never coming alive fully
never risking feeling everything I am.