Tag Archives: soul

allowing longing.

I awoke this morning with a heavy, achy heart – sad and a bit tenderoonie.

So instead of going instantly into my usual fix-it, let’s-get-happy-again-as-soon-as-possible mode, I made heavy_heartthe conscious decision to just sit with it. To wait on my heart to tell me its story the same way I would sit and wait with a sad friend – just to be present, just to be there for them. So I have been still all day, listening, showing my respect and admiration for such a brave, strong, sensitive heart.

And my heart has been telling me lovely, sad stories of longing and belonging all day. It tells me a story of longing to belong, another story of desiring independence and strength – to be alone, stories so sweet and tender that I have been in tears all day at the sweetness and vulnerability of them. It tells me the story of longing, desiring my permission, to go ahead and search for God like a man with his hair on fire searches for water (or maybe like a ‘woman’ with her hair on fire searches for water, b/c the search would not be the same) – the longing for the Beloved – the ache to once again meet and merge with the Divine One and surrender to her/him. heavyheart2

And my heart is not broken, not breaking open. Instead it is swelling, overflowing – full of life, full of tears, full of pain, full of love and knowing. And instead of quieting my heart, instead of trying to muffle the sound, I am sending out the longing like the call for the Mate, the Beloved it seeks.

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in company of fear

my body is afraid
leaking fear
grief
anger
all over my life
it remembers

I wake
dreading consciousness
memories
my face briny again
still always surprises me
my body crying

without my permission

waking
I feel sadness
slipping away to hide
he takes fear with him
and together they slide furtively
around progressively deeper
narrower
corners
seeking shelter
until the darkness returns
digging in
until they can leak out again

where is that well
the source
why can’t I ever find it
fill it up
empty it
I try and follow them
around those blind corners
alleys close with thick darkness
that feels like walking through
coagulated blood

the body limps
around always questioning
has PTSD
jumps at the slightest cosmic burp
wondering
fearful of knowledge
wanting to remain blissfully ignorant

body
I am here now
you are safe

and every morning
yoga stretch-stitches
me sweetly back
to myself
closes gapfull
watery swellings

grace

this bliss
flows up and over my banks
spills so easily from me
like water from
an underground spring
rising up rich, thick
cool and heavy

pure
fresh

sleeping,
it brims up over my edges
and sloshes
with every tilt and turn
and sigh
my dreams are silver, liquid ribbons
of rivers through ink blue deserts

I walk weighted,
watery steps
solid and flowing
constantly in flood

it’s like I know a secret
even I don’t know
so close and immediate
and at the same time
so removed
detached

I am in love with everything I see
fall in love with everyone I meet
fall in love all over again every time I see you
recognize everyone I come into contact with
swim in them for a moment
taste their colors
letting their theirness swirl
over my soul’s tongue like sweet
fine wine
taste their core
feel our likeness
smile at our dislikeness
pronounce us lovers
kin
and then move on to the next family member

just sampling
not taking
not drawing
just tasting
and it delivers me up to myself every time
offered from the palm of the Beloved
back onto myself
rolls my human eyes back
in ecstasy at your taste
your colors
the delicacy
the simple intricacy that is you

I want to peel us all
down to that energetic skin
I want to talk about what is Real
talk about it loudly
as well as in warm, tickly whispers

it shouts from you
drowning me
in your waves

what are we afraid of?

even I play the game
don’t want to alarm anyone
I pretend to pretend like everyone else does

could you forgive me
if I let you see me,
if I quit pretending?

could you be so kind, so generous
as to step out of the play?
exit stage right, perhaps
and meet me in the wings?

for We

vulnerable
naked
raw, even, perhaps
so unaccustomed are we to being this naked
but not that human ‘unapologetic’ thing either
b/c even that is pretending
just there

just

Here

and then see the Divine in both of us?
see that that IS the Divine?
could you allow it
be able to stand the brutal gentleness
of it
the power and simplicity?

could you forgive yourself then,
offer up that sip of grace
from the sacred Vessel,
if you let yourself be seen?

could you forgive me
if I told you your own shame
labeled it for you
told you its source
where it lives in you?

would you even claim it
or would you continue to pretend
even then?
and if you claim it
could you still allow
yourself to be loved?

don’t you see that to offer ourselves up naked
to everyone
is the most sacred gift there is?

it is not embarrassing or shameful or weak or stupid
it is our natural, Real state

and to receive that gift, that offering
no matter its contents
with anything less than love and gentle acceptance
with shoes off and heart open in that sacred place
would be a most horrible sacrilege
and would only make the receiver less

and not you?

I am weary of this human play
this human suit
mask
pretending
weary of trying not to alarm anyone

I want to throw this weariness
on that flame I see burning
so bright in you
and let it char and purify me back to myself

I already see you without the mask and love you
not in spite of that
but because of that
and what I want more than anything
is for you to come to me

my door open
swinging easily
softly
in the dark, warm breezefull moon

me barefoot inside
leaning into the night sky
kneeling my forehead onto the Breast of the Divine One
having been absorbed back into the Bigness again

and hand me the key to your door
as you walk over my threshold

godspeed

I recently saw a client who lost her 24-year old son in March of this year. He died of leukemia.  She came to me for a reading – to talk to her son on the other side. She said she really didn’t believe in the things I do or in reincarnation, but that she was desperate and in pain and was hoping I could help in some way. She was referred to me by two different, unconnected people, so felt that that was some sort of sign that she should follow through with it. I couldn’t disagree with her on that one, as I pay attention to signs/synchronicity too.

Her sadness felt and looked like a thick, gray shield all around her. I could feel the panic underneath that – that panic that accompanies major loss, that feeling like you will never get stone angelto see that person again.  I have memories of that type of panic – that endless, desperate panic with no hope of remedy.

During the reading, I tried to stay focused on her son and not on her and her pain. I pushed aside the empathic sadness/depression and conveyed her son’s message. He had not been home yet, had not gone ‘to the Light’, for lack of a better way to put it. In that, he was not unusual; however, he was different in another way. He presented a first of his kind for me:  a recently nonphysical being who knew where to go and wanted to go, but that had waited to talk to me first. He told us that he didn’t want to go until he had talked to his mother more directly than he was able by himself. “You see,” he said, “I have been waiting for you, Grace, so that I could tell my mother these things before going.”  THAT, I had never encountered. He said he could see the possibility of her speaking with me and so had waited around.

I delivered his message and answered all her questions, mostly successful in keeping her pain from invading me too much. He, quite peacefully, moved into the Light afterwards.

And then I sobbed quietly in my office once she was gone. I waited until I heard the outside door close and knew she was outside the building. I let the waves of sadness and panic wash over and through me, wanting to get rid of them.  I then cleared myself and the office and rode my bike home – subdued, sober.

I could feel her sadness and our connection the rest of the day. Every time I laughed or smiled, I would catch myself and pull back, emotionally. It felt obscene to laugh or smile in the face of her sadness, her loss. I thought of my own daughter. She will be 22 this summer. I thought of the pain, the absolute panic, the hopelessness, even the anger that comes with such a loss.

This morning I found myself laughing again at silly things, the way I do. I am basically a happy person. I have worked hard to be this happy and content in my life. I sent her a load of good juju and sent out a prayer for her healing on all levels and turned my energy back to MY life, my very good, happy life with a healthy, beautiful, funny daughter to grace it. I laughed at my attempts to take a photo of my eye , enjoying the process just b/c it took me back into myself and my life and out of her painful one. And I also prayed I would keep the memory of that contrast stored somewhere in here, in my life, to remind me of just how good my life really is.

Godspeed. Godspeed to the son, but he is fine; he is Home. Mostly, Godspeed to the mother.