I believe that many of my cycles of change have converged on the last few weeks, and like my 25th birthday, so much of my birthday discomfort comes not from age but expectation. 5 years ago I mourned the milestones I always knew I’d achieve by then but had abandoned not 1 year before; this year, I realized I have ultimately re-embraced those values and shut down again- things are just easier to endure on auto-pilot.
But are we here to merely endure? Does that feed my spirit and continue me along my soul’s path? No. And in the last week I have come to terms with the fact that I once again strayed the course, once again traded my journey for the comfort of others, and ultimately betrayed what I have fought so hard for by handing it over to another.
30 is too young to give up on myself and too old to expect the change to magically come to me while I patiently wait. I own this- I am my own. And the burden for my chicken-shit numbing of life’s intensity I fought so hard to earn back rests solely on my shoulders. I gave it away- no one took it. No one even asked for it. I relegated myself, my exploration, and my needs beneath those of others because they were ‘other’ and therefore more worthy.
Fuck that. I am worth my time and love. I am worth knowing. I am worth the discomfort that comes with ever seeking deeper. I am worth the effort it takes to know me. I am worth the effort it takes to please me. I am worth the effort it takes to BE me.
I renew my quest for self; I seek the physical experiences we are here to explore. Without apology, shame, or retreat. I am going to refill my well and see just where I’ve drifted off to when I wasn’t looking. I am going to be- be bold- be strong- be whole- be happy. When necessary, I’ll be mad. I will do for myself. I will fill my well. I will reacquaint myself with my dreams and desires. I will fill my well. I will embrace my own beauty for me, unabashedly. I will fill my well. I will stand my ground, and see what comes of it. I will fill my well. I will reassess all the cups I fill first out of love or obligation. I will stand tall and fill MY cup, without excuse or permission, and see just how many people fall away because their jobs were returned to them and how many join me on this greater quest of self-expansion, inspired and respectful.
I am a child of the universe; I deserve to respect myself and must honor that greater connection. I will seek to know me, even when it is uncomfortable. ESPECIALLY when it is uncomfortable. I will find and fill my well, and at once see the true landscape around me. Come spring, I will know where exactly I need to point my leaves- and my roots. I will better know all parts of me, and in that expand through them. Blessed be!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Even Isis grieved; even the strength to defy death does not harden a woman’s heart.
History is full of strength, of men who charge into battle with swords high and emerge from the other side covered with their opponent’s blood, victorious, righteous, and unchanged. This is not the strength of a woman; a woman is not left untouched or calloused by the experiences she triumphs over. She is stronger, but by that she is soft, sensitive, in tune with those around her. This ‘weakness’ is the source of a woman’s strength, not it’s undoing.
A strong woman is not rigid; she is not an impenetrable wall, a fortified citadel for you to triumph within or compare yourself against. A woman’s strength is that of a tree, flexible when needed, mutable and regularly changed, but fixed enough to stand impervious while the fates of men are fought and decided. A woman’s strength is fluid, organic, and does not preclude her from pain. It is not her armor or her weapon- it is the quality of her heart.
Challenge or roughly handle a woman’s strength and you will be excluded from it. Value a woman’s strength on the scale used to measure men and she will meet your expectation, hardening her armor and sharpening her sword. But do not be fooled; she has not bought into your values or your war. When her heart tells her it’s time, she will sheath the sword and pull the armor from her delicate skin; she will stretch her roots and branches toward the water and light she needs, and leave you to your field.
Even Isis grieved; but Set never had his throne because of it. A woman’s strength, and will, is driven by her eternally perceptive heart.
History is full of strength, of men who charge into battle with swords high and emerge from the other side covered with their opponent’s blood, victorious, righteous, and unchanged. This is not the strength of a woman; a woman is not left untouched or calloused by the experiences she triumphs over. She is stronger, but by that she is soft, sensitive, in tune with those around her. This ‘weakness’ is the source of a woman’s strength, not it’s undoing.
A strong woman is not rigid; she is not an impenetrable wall, a fortified citadel for you to triumph within or compare yourself against. A woman’s strength is that of a tree, flexible when needed, mutable and regularly changed, but fixed enough to stand impervious while the fates of men are fought and decided. A woman’s strength is fluid, organic, and does not preclude her from pain. It is not her armor or her weapon- it is the quality of her heart.
Challenge or roughly handle a woman’s strength and you will be excluded from it. Value a woman’s strength on the scale used to measure men and she will meet your expectation, hardening her armor and sharpening her sword. But do not be fooled; she has not bought into your values or your war. When her heart tells her it’s time, she will sheath the sword and pull the armor from her delicate skin; she will stretch her roots and branches toward the water and light she needs, and leave you to your field.
Even Isis grieved; but Set never had his throne because of it. A woman’s strength, and will, is driven by her eternally perceptive heart.
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