Sometimes I am a witness, sometimes I am the mess. But I am in it all wholeheartedly. We hide our true selves so often behind our fear of being seen for our messy selves. In our hiding we hurt each other, in our hiding we resist the pain of vulnerability and miss the gift of intimacy that comes from it.Read More
“You are requirements,” he said. “Don’t go.”
We have made a mistaken, secret kind of holiness of being needed. I have learned through heartache that to be ‘needed’ is not the same as being wanted. And that is love in boundaries and it sucks.
For most of my teens and twenties, I made a reputation for myself as opinionated. The world has a way of disqualifying the young from being able to lead thought revolution. We craft the skills to communicate well long before we have anything to say. But now I think I have something to say, at last.Read More
I wanted to be raw and vulnerable again, I wanted to be exposed. Inside, I felt the storm was inside me and the best I could do was surrender to the storm that was falling down on me. If you watch and wait, the clouds will gather and cover the sun. The rains will come then go and the light will emerge again.Read More
Love was busy telling me what Love is and is not and Love didn’t want me. I leaned in and learned the lesson anyway, what is was to listen and talk to Love.Read More
Brave is not all of me, but it is a significant part. And when she said it, I recognised myself in a dozen different instances from age 4 to 19 years old. The brave girl who has learned to say what she thinks.
That’s how you know you’re recognising it – because your instinct is to lean into the spaces your True Self fills. And the more of your True Self you lean into, the more of your False Self you fall out of. You recognise your life sometimes before you know you have it; reaching effortlessly for the pieces that belong. The places and the people that fit just so into your puzzle pieces and before you can blink, you are living and fully alive.
This combination of hope and anxiety can be crippling. And that’s anticipation sickness. Knowing the risk you take to hope at all, knowing what losing hope will feel like, how our way of seeing the world will be again challenged. It’s the fear and anxiety that overshadows joy. Hope is not a joyful feeling – hope is the gut-wrenching, white-knuckled sigh of the heartbroken, brave and vulnerable to look up, to say ‘Okay, let’s go again.’Read More
Because we must learn how to learn and keep learning even when we are in the midst of a repeating machine. There is something in our souls that longs to reach up to the sun and something in our roots that calls for deeper earth.Read More
I would write you a letter, with ink and pen on thick paper that feels good in your hands. I’d like to leave the weight of my words with you, a deep impression on the page. I’d make a roadmap of words from here to tomorrow, to guide us til we arrive. I’m searching for words to tell you in advance how sorry I am for the small things I’ve ruined by asking too much or when I couldn’t give you enough. You homeward bound and me, reaching for you. Laid out in lines on a page full of humour, sorrow and life.Read More
By now, you should know this is both a true story about dance and a metaphor. I am a paradox of confidence and innocence, sometimes imagining more quickly than I can learn and sometimes learning more than I can practice. But there are a few things I know to be true.Read More