Deluged with ancient souls
Torments the sky above me
Crying over every wound
Humanity has pierced itself with.
To the gentle womb that gave it life
As well as limb and breath and hope.
If every pain was witnessed
By a light that was afraid to shine
By a darkness that could forgive,
How fortunate we would be to
Meet each other in grace.
The place that would soothe all our wounds
And remind this hallowed rain
That its holiness serves a purpose.
Its teardrops remind us we are all a part of God.
Moral and ethical principles don’t always provide us with that sense of control, whether internal or external, when we are faced with challenging situations. The flight or fight response, the repetitive response we have to trauma, signals our brains that we have to survive. It doesn’t give us the time to contemplate integrity or sit with our powerlessness in any given moment.
Whatever we do to control any given situation when we are threatened might always feel like we are doing the “right” thing because we are trying to keep ourselves safe. Our challenges lose sight that we might be fighting for our beliefs because fighting for our survival usurps anything else. We believe that we are in integrity because we then relate integrity to feeling safe, in control and in power. I wonder how many of us can equate powerlessness with integrity? I wonder how many of us even want to try? It’s hard when we are engrossed in a world where we correlate our identities individually and collectively with having power. We experience this in every facet of society.
Integrity is one of the most potent forms of empowerment I have ever personally known and witnessed, especially in the face of undeniable powerlessness.
Trauma is entrancing.
Its darkness ignites a certain curiosity within us, testing the realms of our fear, our powerlessness, the unknown.
Its tentacles waging war in our psyches, in every universe within us.
We become mesmerized by both its strengths and its weaknesses.
We become mesmerized by our responses to what trauma triggers within us.
Some of us become so fascinated by the power it wields that we would rather allow ourselves to be engulfed in the flames
than to sit back and bear witness.
We name it, we love it, we hate it.
We identify with it at the same time we run from it.
We challenge it.
In understanding and knowing it more deeply, we feel we can know ourselves.
The day will come when you are not hypnotized by it any more.
The power struggle will quiet itself and you will simply walk away.
Bearing witness sometimes offers a greater reward than continuing to engage.
There is such isolation that comes with the loss of emotional freedom, especially when it comes to people being able to express how they feel when they are ill. A separation from society and from what is considered the norm is prevalent. Well, we are being shown that illness is again, occuring at any age these days and that there are so many “mystery” illnesses on the horizon. We are being faced with having to shift a paradigm of shame and uncomfortability around sickness and how we treat, define and separate ourselves from people who are facing these challenges.
I am willing to be with any uncomfortable thoughts that might get triggered around other people’s ailments. After all I have had my own struggles and have been working with people with physical and mental health issues for almost thirty years now. Once in a while, yes, I still get triggered when I see someone suffering to the point that my own mind thinks is unfair. But I sit with it so that the space I hold for them becomes more authentic as I listen.
If we can contribute to rising above the collective shame around being sick, I think that allows us to take a step closer to becoming a more compassionate world.
Of unveiling our vulnerabilities down to the distinct rawness of
character we imagine helps us feel safe
as we create our life narrative.
The labels we put on those narratives
as though self love is dictated by every measure of worth we attribute to those stories.
Oh the effort we expend to be real, to be seen, to be heard, to be valued.
When all we have to do, as daunting as it may seem, is to accept ourselves with such an intensity until we believe that we matter, that everything about us matters.
Freedom can be so exhilarating.
Some of your ancestors have taught you how to hate.
What stories are you carrying in your weary bones
That ignite confusion across generations
Especially in the pivotal moment
Where you need to choose what kind of ancestor
You want to be to future generations to come.
So that when worlds collide
You will know where to find
Your solitude
Amidst the chaos.
It will liken itself
To an innocence not lost,
Only hidden from sight
Until it was ready to
Be completely understood.
Life is so very real, fragile, exhilarating, painful, luminescent.
Your bones bathe in your ancestor’s wounds
While your soul carresses a future lineage awaiting
Each breath of your awakening.
You could taste the earth, its rooted energies,
As it draws life into your blood
And moistens your marrow.
A life so vast the rocks and trees know you by
Your name.
The stars await your confession
The hardships you can no longer bear
The resentment without a place to call home
Within a mind and heart that was created to love.
No, being human is not for the faint of heart.
But I know you.
Perhaps in the way God knows you.
Perhaps in the way you know yourself
But are afraid to see the truth.
You are braver that you think..
After all, you are right here, right now.
So live and be human.
Your ancestors might need to speak through your cells
Your blood and bones might need to relive a pattern until it comes to rest.
There are a myriad number of reasons why our illnesses and maladies are gateways to another world.
Be kind to your bodies, in weakness, and in strength.
And dust to dust
We lay down our lives with each dawn
That passes when we
Turn our hearts against each other.
There is no realm
Where we will not wait
For a patient judgement
That softens the hardness
From generations past
Who crave leniency for a prayer
Not yet spoken
Because pain for some is
Easier to bear than love.
We will not be resurrected alone.
Lineages will gather
Upon a sullen earth
To tend to the needs of many.
If your desire for pain is greater than your need for love,
Will you be able to stand by your brothers and sisters?
The time has come to live an honorable life
Where your heart becomes one heart, living and breathing
For the many.
