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Posts Tagged ‘self compassion’

The World Made Possible 

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on August 30, 2026| 5 Comments »


 
You would think only my ears went for a walk,
because all I could focus on this morning was 
the constant putter and drone and rumble and whine
of the steady stream of cars on the highway below.
My ears were bothered. Mightily so. Bothered
enough they drowned out the woodsy scent 
of spruce and the dry earth perfume of late summer
so I could focus on a backfiring engine.
Bothered enough I had to force myself to notice
how soft the trail was underfoot, how easy it felt
to stroll on the flat surface. Had to force myself
to see how some leaves in the understory were 
already turning red, how beautiful they were, 
how good the warm sun felt on the bare skin
of my arms, how a crisp breeze made
my arms rise as if in praise to receive a brief
and welcome chill. Surrounded by so much
beauty, it’s a wonder I could be fussy at all, 
but wow, was I fussy as those cars roared by 
and I dreamed of a different, better trail where
I wanted to be right then, some other trail where
I heard only birds or wind or blessed nothing.
Hours later, sitting on the couch, it’s obvious 
what I heard loudest was not traffic, but my own
fussy thoughts as I longed the world to be different
than it was. By some grace, a sweet self-compassion 
floods me, quiets me, stills and softens me, 
helps me befriend myself just as I am, a human 
who is sometimes fussy, sometimes compassionate.
For a grounded moment, I am so content I think 
a whole highway could thunder right through me, 
and I might just be okay. 
 

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Love Letter Sent Back in Time to Myself Three Years Ago

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on July 29, 2024| 16 Comments »


 
 
Your worst fears will happen,
will happen soon. And you
will crumple. Will wail.
Will not know how to say hello.
Will somehow remember
how to stand. How to open
a door. How to sit on a chair
and listen to the swallows,
the relentlessly sweet chickadees.
You will have no words, but you will have
your attention, your willingness,
your stubbornness, your
devotion to life.
 Your heart, though wrecked,
will not be erased. It will beat,
will beat on, will beat on.
And though I do not understand
how this happens, you live.
You not only live, you’re remade,
just as rivers are remade by rain,
just as wind is refashioned
by the cool of the night. Just as
bones become stronger
after the break. Just as
a story resists The End.
Just as the notes of a song
can be reused to compose
a new song. Oh sweetheart,
you will be not only sing
the new song—a song
equal parts haunting and beautiful—
you will be the new song
and the silence that holds it.
 

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