Lost Religion

There is a Spirit in the soil

The place where life begins

and to where it again returns

You have to run up to the very edge

of your very own grave

to understand how deeply

your Spirit’s truth can go

How connected we all are

as transient souls;

seperate but one

The Spirit calls out to us every moment

rarely is it heard as the truth

Destructive forces we are against it

We are poor stewards of our gift

our home, our residence, our church

Meeting of the Wounds

Yesterday was a wild ride. I took my friend to the orthopedic doctor to get an appraisal done on her freshly broken ankle. During the course of our conversation she said something that struck me deeply.

“When you’re meeting someone, you’re meeting their wounds.”

Dude. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

She went on to say, “People who have had trauma, bring that forward with them in various manifestations. People who are givers typically didn’t have enough and they don’t want others to feel that way so they tend to overgive.” (not exact quote but that’s what she said in essence)

People who were neglected may be overly attentive. People who were abused may be overly protective. People who were torn down regularly may be a powerful motivator to uplift others. People who got lost may find their way to their own path and lead others on theirs.

I had never considered the wounds of others. My focus has been on meeting people as they are right now. Sometimes the encounters are pleasant, others not so much. If it’s not ideal, I tend to grant personal grace because I don’t know why they would do or act in such a manner.

Understanding that I’m meeting all of their wounds and successes really honed in on my understanding of others. But, moreso, it forced me to realize how my wounds interact with the world.

I’ve worked incredibly hard to become the person that I want to be for my own satisfaction. I’ve taken what’s happened to me throughout my many chapters, discarded what didn’t work for my vision of myself and embraced my joy. I’ve struggled to understand where my life choices have brought me. I’ve battled with the traumas that changed my life directions.

And still, when I see other people out in the wild, I did not recognize, cognitively, their wounds are just as exposed as mine are. I didn’t look past the present to understand that their past is as valid to them as mine is to me. That sounds juvenile and a bit Pollyanna, but I WANT to understand. I want to help where I can because my feelings of helplessness, abandonment, degradation, and abuse profoundly changed me.

Some may say that those things were horrors, to which I’d have to agree. But, they were also a catalyst that’s propelled me forward into a level of self discovery, self appreciation, and self love that I don’t know I’d recognize without the impact of of those events in my life.

An online friend of mine has been writing about their own self-discovery. They are picking away scabs, examining the wounds, and putting healing energy where it’s needed in their soul. As I see it, that’s the bravest thing a person can do. The courage that it takes to bite into your own skeleton filled closet, examine the contents of your guts, digest the lessons that have been sorely learned is an incredible journey and not without adventure.

“You’re meeting people’s wounds” not just the current version of them, but all of their life and experiences. I’ll love them anyway because that’s who I am because of and despite my own wounds.

Apology

I’m asking for an apology

one I know I’ll never get

for every time you hurt me

for each of these regrets.

For every neglectful incident

for refusal to pull emotional weight

for your bitter anger towards me

for which I took the bait

For the disturbing blackmail

that you forced on me to pay

with the difference between want and need

being thrown up in my face

Abide with Life

I was sure I’d be dead by 21. I was positive I’d be married and have children. I was convinced that I would be married forever.

I’m 56 years old now. I live happily by myself with a pup and a cat for company. I’m surrounded by friends who love and celebrate me. I own my own business. And, weirdly enough, my path has become one of caregiving and spiritual with a focus on death and dying.

My 18 year old self, my 25 year old self, and even my 40 year old self wouldn’t recognize the life I have now. Possibilities have changed my life when I started saying yes and quit doing what I thought I should.

This life I build each day is a true adventure.

*%(&% Covid got me

Well that was an adventure I do not wish to revisit.

I started feeling off late on the 24th. Like, foggy froggy gross kind of off. Knowing that one of the places I frequent to visit clients had a recent outbreak that spread rather rapidly and even though I wore my mask and sanitized the dickens out of my hands, I thought to test.

On a Covid test, it tells the tester to set a timer for 15 minutes and read the results. Dudes, it wasn’t even a minute when I got the positive test. Yup, still the same at the 15 minute mark. I tested positive. FARTS!

I’ve avoided the plague for four years, but in my line of work of caregiving, I could only dodge the bullet for so long. I’m sorry my reign ended but I wouldn’t trade the time I had with my beloved clients to change that.

Three days of heavy flu-like symptoms, then a cough which gradually dwindled. Fever free on day 5. Feeling as normal as I can at 10 days out.

I hate being sick. I hate not being able to GO! GO! GO! It goes against my ethics, but I further know that if I don’t take care of myself, I’m setting myself up for failure. I’m not willing to fail. I’m not willing to give up. I’m not willing to surrender.

Intimate Brain

Repeatedly she kissed my hand

hugged my arm close to her body

She apologized not with “I’m sorry,”

but repeatedly with “I love you.”

Her eyes met mine briefly

with the woman she once was

vanished in a blink which, again,

began her litany of obsession.

What I witnessed, what I felt, what I learned,

wasn’t enough to ease her anxiety

her frustration and anger

even if she doesn’t quite understand why.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I love you too, dear one.”

I truly do. I fell in love with my new friend

Brain intimate with momentary lucidity

She smiled sunshine towards me despite her clouds

I promised to carry her love with me

Just Shy

Not a shrinking violet

Or scared to use her voice

Like a maestro with an instrument

She delivered courageous joy

Dire situations didn’t daunt her

A guidon in a hurricane

although the grim did haunt her

Fear forgot her name

Inspired by Only Fragments

it’s because he’s the sun, the source of all light in the universe, and you’re just the moon with no light of your own.

I have been the sun shining so brightly that you lit up as well. But I was greedy, self-involved, callous to your pleas for your own two feet. I couldn’t hear your voice because mine was too loud and I loved the sound of it more than I did yours. I couldn’t hear your suffering because I believed I was the only one who had a right to be the victim. I forced you to be a martyr for my cause, not yours. I stripped you naked of everything I didn’t like about myself, absorbed your “good parts” as if they were my own. I tipped the balance of justice so that I appeared the one who was rightly outraged. I was repulsed by your actions because they were exactly what I would do if I weren’t so vain to believe I was superior to you. I held your confidence because that was in our agreement. You held mine because that’s who you wanted to be, or rather who “I” wanted you to be. For all of that, I hope you can forgive my recklessness, my rejection, my lack of confidence in who you were born to be. I beg for your grace and mercy that I refused to offer you, or myself, while I preyed on my own foibles as a pathetic excuse for a relationship with you.

Approaching Senior

older person holding an open book near a window

I am too old to be considered youthful

Yet, I’m a child, still wet-behind-the-ears

I’ve lived a life precariously truthful

But still, I’ve yet to see all of my years.

I have been as close to death as dust

But I still don’t know it by its common name

I have gifted dirges to those I’ve loved

A place in my heart they’ve claimed

If I’m blessed to live an entire century,

I hope that I won’t sit alone by the window

Waiting for those I love to learn too late they love me.

I’d languish for their amity, my companion, my shadow

There is a certain reverence to a life lived unfurled

The spiral tapestries of the lessons learned

Woven back upon itself briefly, beautifully curled

Love and joy have always been the life for which I’ve yearned