September singing…..

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Can I tell you something,  quiet,
because my voice is coming back from a very thin place,
like when I used to read books aloud all day at my children’s school
and could only croak raspy strings of words when the day was done.
But I want to croak it, even whispered,
that love is stronger than fear.

Because it’s September,  and talk of terror fills the streams we sometimes have to wade
and it reminds me afresh what pierced my heart that day so many years ago
when the buildings came down,
and I don’t want to take it for granted,
this voice that is mine
and the brief breath of days we are given.

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Yeah,  it’s going quick,  this life
and sometimes things get swept away unexpected,  like a vapor,
and I don’t want to leave any of my love un-given.

For me, September raises her hands like the choir director I adored as a girl,
her fiery red hair wonderfully unkempt and long arms stretched out calling,
calling to each of our voices
“sing out”
as she tugged at the songs still sleeping inside us.
I now know why she pulled and stretched and wouldn’t accept the slumber we kept.
She knew  she was standing on sacred ground
that something real was unearthed by the rising of our sound.

I want to live it out louder,  the stuff I want left hanging in the air
if my body is suddenly torn away and my voice hushed,
to clear my throat and bellow out what my heart would grab on and fight, white knuckled,
to leave behind.

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Weren’t they our voices that the terror came to silence?
To make our love grow cold?
So when we,  even trembling,  belt it out,
the song we carry inside,
we honor those who were taken,  and those left behind.

“Sing out,”  I can still hear her calling
and somewhere deep inside
I want to tilt back my head and bellow from my belly
that in every painful,  vulnerable place
I will love life more,
appreciate more,
pray and laugh and lift my voice more,
and take each breath I’m given
like it’s a golden ticket that I’ve won.

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“Because hiding out, pretending,  and armoring up against vulnerability are killing us:
killing our spirits,  our hopes,  our potential,  our creativity,  our ability to lead,
our love,  our faith,  and our joy.”
-Brene’ Brown

  hey,  I want to send a copy of my September Ripplesongs to the winner
of a giveaway this week;  leave a comment and you’ll be in the drawing next Saturday!

truth in the tremble…..

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Stuff is just exactly
as broken
and shaky
and gimpy
as it is,
but hardly hopeless,
oddly beautiful even,
in the coming undone

so I’m gonna re-think the tremble
and not crumple up small
and slide down under
the coming up short,
trying to fix the wobble
and make it seem smooth
so the flaws don’t show;

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’cause even though it may stop the squeak and shudder
when I flatten out low,
I wasn’t born to be the wedge
beneath these shaky table legs
so maybe we’ve got something here
that isn’t quite real.

Let's find another,  truer way
because I don't want to spend another day
 feeling homesick
 for me.
blog ice
(serving this up again because I've had our voices on my heart)
"...the issue of 'stay small, sweet, quiet and modest' sounds
like an outdated problem,  but the truth is that women
still run into those demands whenever
we find and use our voices."
-Brene' Brown

 

got to be free….

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To be free…..this is the thing,
top of my list……even love needs freedom
to thrive,
freedom to grow my own garden,
learn from my own mistakes,
choose my own path,
decide in my own heart how I worship, build a family,
make a life and a living,
to say my own strong “no’s” and grin my very own yeses,

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to write and sing and paint and dance
and pickle and pour and pray and chance
and to choose my own pace about it,
not taking on hurry or rush or shove or push,
not swallowing one drop of ridicule because of my gimpy places,
but to bask in the light beautiful along the way,
all along the way,

because I’m free to choose,
to relax into the timing of Love
and take joy in this journey
that is mine.

Really,  don’t let the beauty of this life get away from you.

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Lifting my heart to toast every drop of freedom
we are born for.

“Don’t shrink.
Don’t puff up.
Just stand your sacred ground.”
-Brene’ Brown

(and,  hey,  I really want to write you back when you leave comments.  I don’t get e-mails anymore,
since my blog changed a bit,  so I’m gonna try writing a reply right at the end of each comment.
Never done that before.  Not sure if you’ll ever get them….just wanting to stay connected.)

pssst….passing you a note

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Hey friend,   you know that breath you hold?
the one you may be saving back
until you feel permission
to relax into your place
at the universe’s table,

that breath you suck in tense
until the someday when you’ll feel like you’re enough,
where you’re still feeling a little less than

…..can I pass you a note
into that suspended place?

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There is something quietly and genuinely significant about you
already.
There’d  be a sad,  dark hole in this living canvas
without you.
You’re a custom fit,
particular and priceless by design.

Would you maybe go look up at the stars tonight?
See how they shine,
winking and nodding and noticing you back,
the whole inky blackness of the vast night sky
a mat rolled out in welcome
for,  yes,  that would be you,

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the universe extended gentle and generous
to affirm you just exactly where and how
you are,
each of your feelings mattering,
each of your needs worth meeting,
each of the beats of your beautiful heart
highly prized by the lover of all wild things.

What if you let that exorbitant love name your value
and let that breath go.
Stand under the great wide sky all small and mighty and cherished
and breathe all the way down past the dregs of that fear
and embrace it,  your fit and flow.

I totally dare you.

Thanks for coming by to visit;  this post may ring a tad familiar,
as I wrote and posted it awhile back,  but I’m celebrating love this month
and I wanted to serve it up again,  with some fresh hope on top.
Just passing along a loving squeeze from the universe:)

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“Worthiness doesn’t have prerequisites.”
-Brene Brown

52 candles….

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It’s my birthday this week and I’m plunking
52 fresh candles in my lemon blueberry cheesecake,
deep down ridiculously glad to be alive in 52 (new)
glad and grateful ways:

~for fresh skies and new trails to hike,
~the soul sweetness of being with safe people,
~the resistance that enables us to fly,
~the grace to listen slow,
~wiggle room….the beauty of spaciousness,
~creating art for the simple joy of it,  and
~clean libraries,

~for our fascinating weaknesses and imperfections
~good coaches and coaching,
~for healthy intimacy….the real stuff that isn’t illusion,
~audio books when my hands are happily covered in paint,
~golden moments in the sun,  warm and wrapped in light.
~the large,  friendly quiet of the early morning,
~the sleepy sighs of dogs plopped and snuggled
at my feet,
~the hoo hoo hoooo of an owl in the woods,

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~when sometimes into life’s overwhelm come soft days,
thickset with grace,
~sea kayaks and coppertone air and  summertime dreaming,
~those times when you feel like a bird with a big song,
~the first flutters and tenderlings of Spring,
~the shepherd psalm,

~song lyrics and movie lines that make your heart leap,
~thank you’s….all the creative ways that appreciation
gets expressed,
~the beauty and honor of Native American culture
and each baby step toward restoration of these noble people,
~how “the Lord lives among pots and pans”  (Teresa of Avila)
~Melody Beattie and Brene Brown and their brilliance shared,
~ poetry and prayer,

~for the cool breeze of friends who are shade in the swelter
and help to stir my dreams vivid and shining,
~the simple beauty of spending less than I make,
~the poignant power of well chosen words,
~every laugh that shakes my children’s bellies,
~that we are not our pain,  not our problems,
and there are exciting,  interesting things in store for us
and  we get to  cooperate with the universe by taking good,
tender loving care with ourselves,

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~the big heart-massage and brain de-clutter of morning pages,
~hot steamy baths,
~the whoosh of satisfaction when all the gardens tucked in for a long winter’s nap,
~cutting into a really juicy  lime,
~the beauty of timely support,
~the gorgeousness of vulnerability,
~the way the pain and loss of tragedy reminds me to love out loud,
to say it,  write it,  grow it,  guard it,  live it,  show it
and dance all over the fear that I’ll be rejected or look a fool
….I’d rather put my love out there than hide it away unexpressed,

~for the freedom to get hopping mad,
~the gift of solution,
~the joy of just turtling along,  free to mosey,
and also the thrill of zooming
and that we mostly get to choose,
~the sweetness of new season,  new rhythm,  new dance
with the same partner,
~the deliciousness of coming uncaged,
~for the gnarly,  stretchy stuff….that life without tension
goes shallow,

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~people who are generous with a smile,
~learning to forgive ourselves for what we didn’t know
before we learned it,
~for how much easier life gets when we accept the apologies
that we never got,
~sunny stone walls to lean against warm
when icy winds blow,
~after-storm clarity
~and the deep breath of relief when we let love come near
our unloved places
and get some healing done.

~for naps and sweet, sweet sleep when it comes
~and for another year to sing into the wind
that life is precious,  love is treasure,  time is currency
and it is pure gift
to be here now.

There they are…..the 52 new candles flickering in my heart this year.
I’m so grateful to be able to serve up a slice to you,  friend.
Love and thanks for coming around to help me celebrate.
You make my life richer than I can say.

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“I decided that the most subversive,  revolutionary thing I could do
was to show up for my life
and not be ashamed.”
-Anne Lamott