self compassion,  writing

rising with mystery

these past few weeks have been all over the road emotionally, mentally and physically. i’ve not tried to contain or explain them (in great depth) but i have tried to be honest with myself about what is happening.

one thing that keeps coming up is my “need” to control all the things and the fact that i have very little control over anything. 

we (or rather I) often say, “it’s out of my control” and then we/i do everything possible to control a situation.

i’ve been doing that with several situations and most likely for several years and that really doesn’t work. i wish i could say there was a magic spell that one could cast and make herself let go. there are prayers you can say, and steps you can take but often you find yourself back at square one more often than you can count. you have to keep at it. i am finding that letting go is not only a mindset but a healing journey.

sometimes, i think it’s easier for me to let go on page. we all know the tension that happens on the page when we try to rigidly control our words and/or paint. it often looks or sounds okay but feels off. sometimes, the only solution (to alleviate that tension) becomes to allow it to be,  cut it apart and remake or scrap it all together.

more often than not, i find myself gathering the disjointed parts of works and allowing them to mingle and speak together. in doing so, i notice that even if it doesn’t quite make sense that the work emerges with a certain feel to it that speaks to me on a deep level.

i wonder at how to live with the disjointed parts in life, not as something to be pitied but as a way of acknowledging my own vulnerability, joys, hopes, limits and reality.  i wonder at not holding onto the brush of my days so tightly and with a sense of awe. a sense that even in the disjointedness i am held and known. 

incompleteness or disjointedness is not a state for mourning, even if there are parts and people we mourn. in the tension, we are allowing, falling apart, coming together and remaking with the scraps and fragments.

we are kissing God with gratitude and tears. our hearts are tearing and vast. we are circling the fullness and living in the desert. tasting wells of life ‘s sweetest nectar and chocked with a mouthful of fears. eating the possibility and scared of the flame. confused and comforted. uncertainty blooming in our bones but rising with mystery.

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