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?
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)