A smidge from the middle of my own sweet lane…..

Serving up some sweet and simple from the archives today
because it so fits, this small smackerel.
Just a smidge – for your snacking pleasure:)

I want to believe in rest,
the kind that finds me when I’m true.
The sort of peace that soaks through honest
to the real of me
and it’s scary,  still,
because it can feel like stepping into fog on a ridge
that may give way if I step down the full of me solid.

Rest is so like trust,  that way.

But I want to believe in it,
especially when I’m feeling driven to please,
hungry for sanctuary,
my molecules charged with rush,
jarred to attention,
soul strings strung tight
and plucked too hard and fast.

Do you ever get like that?

Codependent.
I’ve re-learned,  healed,  developed,  and come a long way baby
but sometimes I get dragged back into that strange and strangling undertow.

When I remember what I’ve forgotten to love,
(do you sometimes forget to care for yourself too?)
I’m swept back into my own roomy lane
where there’s this rich and ridiculous grace,  and plenty of it,
with only one thing ever to do
at a time.

This creates some amazing space for remembering
how to keep right on breathing,
to wriggle free from the believing that’s been squeezing
and do some living of a life that’s true.

“Oh sweetheart,  love is kind;  it doesn’t stand still and do nothing
when it sees it’s own need.
I don’t need stress to do what I know to do;
that’s not efficient,
the way peace and sanity are.”

– Byron Katie

(ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.  happy breath)

 

Food for the flying……

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I’ve been reading instead of writing this weekend,
feasting on an artful cluster of healing stories by Rachel Naomi Remen
and,  wow,  I want to serve it up,  this goodness I’ve been feeding on
……some nips of nectar
to nourish your bright wings:)

~ “The life in us is diminished by judgment far more frequently than by disease.
Our own self-judgment or the judgment of others.
and
this judgment does not only take the form of criticism.
Approval is also a form of judgment,
but we are harmed by it in far more subtle ways.
To seek approval is to have no resting place,  no sanctuary.
Like all judgment,  approval encourages constant striving.
It makes us uncertain of who we are and of our true value.

 (there’s more!)

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This is as true of the approval we give ourselves as it is of
the approval we offer others.
Approval can’t be trusted.
It can be withdrawn at any time no matter what our track record has been.
It is as nourishing of real growth as cotton candy.
Yet many of us spend our lives pursuing it.”

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“A label is a mask life wears.
We may need to take our labels and even our experts far more lightly.
In my experience,  a diagnosis is an opinion and not a prediction.
Like a diagnosis,  a label is an attempt to assert control and manage uncertainty.
It may allow us the security and comfort of a mental closure
and encourage us not to think about things again.
But life never comes to a closure;  life is process,  even mystery.
Life is known only by those who have found a way to be comfortable with change
and the unknown.  Given the nature of life,  there may be no security,
but only adventure.”

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There.
Do you feel a little stronger in your wings?
Wishing you fresh,  healing breeze in all your parts.

“I don’t need stress to do what I need to do.
That isn’t efficient.
Love and sanity are.”
-Byron Katie
(from her brilliant Loving What Is)

Plain sayin’ …………

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It’s hard to wade into the steam of people-speak anymore
without recoiling in pain,  so many barbed words raking across soul so vicious
it’s a quick trip to make it out with tender parts alive.
Everybody talking at each other;  no one listening.
Like a nightmarish cocktail party where everyone’s drinks have been tainted
so that no one can see another’s face.
Just pasting labels over breathing souls with a narrow slap of hand.
And all the while,  shame working the floor like some crazed maestro,
conducting a symphony of suspicion,
painting a jury so harsh that we rush to condemn before the gavel comes down
on our own feelings of failure and flaw.

Where we could be a team,  a community,  a family,  a tribe,
there spews a flood of blind judgment and false accusation.
But we don’t know,  you and I, the being beneath the label
that we’ve just nailed into tender flesh.
We may have some facts,  but we don’t know the sum.
And their story will never be told or heard or understood
in this poisonous room.
It just won’t.
And what you think you know,  the heart of the matter,   likely you don’t.

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And the people you just criticized,  do you think they crawled back through generations
and hand-picked the brokenness their wounded stuff springs from?
Do you think your belittling scorn is the medicine
that  may punish them hard enough to kill the cancer?
Like a strong dose of chemo?
Really?

No,  if you’re criticizing,  you’re part of the sickness,
shooting up from the same root that started the whole damn thing.
It’s only fuel,  your hate and blame and scorn,
when you slap a narrow label on a living,  breathing thing.
Call it activism,  politics,  ministry,  passion,
….whatever cheap aerosol spray you wanna mist around the filth of
words like “bigot”,  “racist”,  “monster”,  “pervert”,  “heathen,” “religitard,” “redneck,”
“sexist”, “ignorant,”  “hater”…..whatever flavor you’re better than.

Because you think you know them,  don’t you,  that “conservative”
who must therefore be a narrow-minded,  tight-fisted,
self absorbed, greedy,  judgemental, arrogant, woman-hating, heartless,  unseeing person of privilege.
Or that “liberal” who has got to be an irresponsible,  lazy,  immature,  unmotivated,
short-sighted, hedonistic, free-loading, immoral, self-serving professional victim.
It’s got to be one or the other,  right?

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No.   Sure,  both parties are out of balance.
Because both are wings that we need in order to fly.
Torn apart,   we’re all flopping helplessly in dirt.
(Yes,  both have virtue;  both have corruption….it’s part of the package)
So we suck it down,  the tainted information the talking heads are selling,
an IV laced with fear,
and construct from all the pieces,  like legos in a bin,  a form
to label and love or loathe
Our own comfy version of the truth.

And who loses?
We all do.
The abused and the abuser,  the hungry and the homeless,  the marginalized and the rich,
the sick and the helpless,  the lonely and the pimped.
We’ve built some good walls;  supply can’t get through.
Except for  where people of solution
are bypassing politics and creating change and finding effective ways
anyway.
It’s happening.  Quietly it’s happening.
No party has a corner on compassion.

But think what we could do if we all started building together
instead of against.

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In honor of the fourth and all the freedom we enjoy
in in this land that I love,
my first and last political vent:)
I’d love to send a zine to someone…..will draw a name next weekend.
Leave a comment and I’ll toss in your name:)

“You may say I’m a dreamer.
But I’m not the only one.”
-John Lennon

“We all need a little tenderness,  how will love survive,  in such a graceless age?”
– Don Henley

Of facts and fountains…..

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So what if I am too tired,
too busy,  too foggy,  too muddled by details
that keep dribbling over the edge of my lists and days
like an overstuffed laundry hamper spilling onto floors that I wish
I could clear and clean and freeze that way.

And what if the nights aren’t strong enough to hold me at rest,
if the mornings smack hard of hurry and go
and if the money that I feel I must need won’t happen unless
I go faster and harder and better and more?
What if everything is just exactly as harsh and unrelenting
and jagged and disappointing as it sometimes seems.
Where do I go with that thought?

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Inside,  to the center of the place where I only ever need to be,
where dwells a  living Love who whispers truth
over all these facts pretending to be real,
over the barbed wire thinking that I sometimes painful feel
and here my heart collapses grateful into the friendly,  worn,  overstuffed chair
of arms that hold me firm inside a living rest
like a fountain pulled around me tender,
making dry bones live again.

I can rethink the messy stuff of living….it just is what it is.
And I’m free to love it all and thrive
just exactly as I am
now.

I love peace.

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“Don’t believe everything you think.”
-Byron Katie