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Posts Tagged ‘self awareness’


                  with thanks to Kayleen
 
 
It is true, you are too much for some—
especially those who have not yet learned
they carry the sea inside them. Especially
those who still want to fit their lives
into small, dry boxes with tight-fitting tops.
But there will be some who desperately need you
to show up every bit as immense as you are,
not one drop smaller, need you to be unashamedly
vast and deep and full of strange things
neither you nor they can understand.
Maybe it’s just one person who needs you
to be that big. Maybe that person is you.

—Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

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Today when the wind

wrests branches from trees,

cartwheels the watering can

snatches my peace,

I search in me

for a way to praise it,

praise a force strong enough

to rip trees from the earth,

push a ship cross the sea,

and shred what I think I know.

There is in me

a vehement storm

that I have tamed

for fifty years.

Is it any wonder

the wind makes me nervous—

not that I don’t know

how to relate to it,

but oh, because

I do.

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She watched herself on stage,

and though she wept for the sad parts,

she didn’t wish them away—

they made the story better.

She easily laughed every time she forgot her lines.

And several times, though the play wasn’t done,

she gave herself an ovation.

Why not, she thought. I’m doing

a damn good job up there.

I wonder what took me so long

to see I got the lead. I can’t wait to see

where this play is going.

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strange, the light disappearing

stranger still to realize

we are the ones in the way

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If you could come back, I say, as anyone else

in the world—say you just stepped out of time

for a moment and then came back in—would

you come back as yourself or as someone else?

 

We are driving in the dark, but I know from experience

that we have just crossed the Dallas Divide

and there are mountains just south of us, and

Leopard Creek to our left, already slightly swollen with spring.

 

Well, she says, after some consideration, could

I change parts of myself? And I say, No.

You get to come back exactly as yourself.

The car in the oncoming lane forgets to lower its brights.

 

Then I would come back as myself, she says,

and I feel a flood of fragrant joy in her answer,

a perfume that fills the car with the heady

scent of self-awareness. I think of the infinite

 

choices and events that conspired to make her

exactly this girl who in this exact moment

chooses to be exactly herself. Except, she says.

I wish I could be better organized.

 

All around us, the world unbraids itself,

melting and charged with mud and change.

All around us, a fine and untamable chaos.

Inside us, the exact person to meet it.

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