Exuding Warmth

There's something I felt when you smiled at me-
as you walked towards me on the sidewalk under evening glow.
Only a small smile escaped out of the corner of my mouth,
as I grinned from the inside out and had to look down
just to harness the flush that went over me.
There's a warmness that naturally exudes from you,
that left me slightly speechless in the first 10 minutes after
you greeted me with a hug and immediately I began
stumbling in my mind trying to find something to say.
Then as you sat down, across the table still smiling
gazing into my eyes, as if you could see what I was thinking.

Who are you?
What is it that has been left in me, ever since that night
two eves ago when we decided to meet.

Ever since that time you have not left my mind. 

You've caught me entirely by surprise, and

I'm not certain what has crossed my path,

or what has resided like a pit in my chest.

As I've talked to you once more,

it appears you've struck a chord;

hearing your voice through the phone

I still struggled at first to keep my composure.

What is it you have, for me to behave this way?

(written 9/20/15 and edited 10/2/15)

Life Cycle of Eight

Eight,
has followed me my entire life.
Symbolizing birth, life, luck, identity,
and synonymous with
Chinese and Japanese cultures; wealth.

Eight symbolizes infinity.
A promise of renewal,
and also a promise of life always
following a cycle; that returns
to you, what you have invested in it.

Eight has also seen a lifetime occur,
in as many times within my spirit.
Eight times I return to myself to bear witness;
to the burning of old, and fertile welcoming of rebirth.

In eight years I have grown, more than I ever could or would have,
had this day, in as many years...not occurred.
This very day, in several of the first eight years-
translated into suffering, hiding, and nightmares.

Today, with eight years worth of perspective,
I stand in remembrance of innocence lost, and honor the woman I have become,
despite and because of my losses.
The passion, the wisdom, the fierceness, the resolve.

My dreams grew so much larger and greater than myself;
because of the lessons I learned having burned to ashes,
picked up my pieces, rejuvenating the simplified remains,
and enlisting the masters' wisdom to be reborn, in each of the last eight years.

Here I am. On the eighth year, when perhaps I may feel sorrow,
for the shattered heart of the 25 year old young woman I once was.
May my tears fall briefly, as I recall how painful that time was.

May I also rejoice, as this eight bends, and I with it-
into the cycle of this life I have created, through my own blood, sweat and tears.
Into this life I was gifted, and have continued to be blessed with-
this life that I wouldn't change a second of, for all the money in the world.

Eight years brought me suffering.
Eight years brought me nightmares, flashbacks,
lost lovers, fits of rage, confusion, anger, despair...

Eight years now brings me perspective, gratitude, growth, faith, sisters and brothers in survival,
my Phoenix, my writing, coming into the love of my cherished family and friends,
courage, thriving and most of all, the woman I am today.
Who I love more than I ever could have if my 25 year old heart wasn't shattered into so many tiny damned pieces.

Eight years it's taken me to live and thrive in my own skin.
Eight years to look at myself in the mirror and feel proud of who is looking back.
Eight years to realize that I have nothing to prove, to anyone but myself.
Eight years to discover that much of my beauty lies in my ability to be myself.
Eight years it's taken me to learn how to unlock so much love in this world, that is meant for me.
Eight years it's taken me to know that I deserve it...to be happy, and to be loved.
Eight years that I can now cherish, as I'm learning to do for the most sacred parts of me.
Eight years not only to believe that I can heal, but understanding it by seeing how I can heal others.

Those same parts that I thought were stolen from me, I had no idea how they would blossom
right out from under my ashes.
Eight years, I survived- and even greater, I am thriving.

Forgiving Darkness

If it's impossible to know what love is, without forgiving someone's darkness-- that certainly explains a lot of why I struggle to love myself at times. If It's impossible to know someone, without seeing their darkness, that would explain why I feel so empty still. I'm acquainted with my darkness, we dance and philosophize sometimes. Other times we meet each other in silence, honoring each others' presence without dialogue. Still other moments, I curse my darkness - and insult my integrity and ability to persevere - at the expense of my attention, hope, and faith. Writing is my only honesty ticket for my darkness, my connecting flight, my opener. I've been searching and taking inventory of my fears lately to gain insight into why I can't communicate directly with them, why I can't bring them to the forefront and allow others to see them, and to know me in that way. Forgiveness seems to be the missing party, the lost luggage so to speak. I can't absorb the love of others, nor all of the love around me, or at least a large portion of it because I am waterlogged by disdain, disapproval and judgment of my own darkness.  Even more importantly, I haven't been able to further develop my own ability to love myself, and I see now why forgiveness is a majority of the reason why. Toxicity becomes my environment without the outlet for my darkness, and there is no guarantee of muse, no cure-all for writer's block.  I know now that I need another way in. I've lived a long time, 33 years without another way in.  I started writing at 11, to document my suffering that I didn't understand at the time.  As I got older, the writing wasn't enough, and I sought outside help.  I became more versed in managing my mental health, and then as expected, life became more complicated. Today, my skills to manage certain aspects of my mental health, have proven to not be enough -- and suffering is getting the best of me, rearing its ugly head as exhaustion and burn out.

I've had moments, periods of time in my life when I felt that I was very strongly loving myself.  But I find that these states are not permanent, and if you aren't careful, you fall right out of them; as I have. I've forgotten how to love myself, and I'm not sure I've ever been able to love myself in the wild way that I love others.  And I understand that my hopeless romantic way of loving some others in my life, will never be replicated in my love for myself- as would be expected as I don't have that same relationship with myself. However, should I be able to love myself with similar fervor? Is the love that I deserve, from myself, of a different variety altogether?  What is the sign that will show me that enough is enough? Have I ever seen it before? If forgiveness is the missing party, it would seem that shame is the vehicle for my lack of forgiveness. I don't let other people see my darkness because I'm too busy protecting them from it, or perhaps I am only protecting myself - and instead only robbing them of seeing me.  I hide because I can't be sure that I can function outside of my darkness enough to be what I perceive as visible to others. I hide because of how I perceive myself to be intolerable to others.  Why am I ashamed of my darkness? In some ways I relate this to others' in my life in the past who have shown disdain for the intensity of my emotions.  Other's who have not known how to bear witness to my emotions without feeling responsible for them, others who are unable to bear witness to my emotions without feeling consumed by them.  I don't want anyone to bear any burden of what I feel, as I truly believe I was given this ability to feel so intensely, for a reason.  I don't want anyone to be hurt by the intensity of my emotions, because hurting myself is enough.  Searching for my way in... meditating with all of you.  Welcoming submissions, as always.  Be well, and find your way in as well, as I am searching for mine.

-Phoenix

Mountain Dreamer

I'm in the throes of a memory

stuck in the eye of a storm.

You really took a hold of me,

but I gave of myself willingly.

Now that you've had your fill of me;

I just want to raise my hands to the sky

and scream, but I cannot breath so instead

I'm teaching myself how to be free.

I put myself in shackles,
clinging to a mountain,

chasing a mirage of family that

I longed for so fiercely that I lost

sight of my feet, and find myself slipping

with no edges to grasp on to,

only slick grass and puddles 

to land in, only mud to catch me.

Now my face is slathered in a film  

that I can't wash clean, 

instead I'm inciting my demons

and they're coming to cash in.
Ghosting just like you would do
to come out alive, to survive.
Now I'm dancing as only I know how
to end this slide, and to rise.

_______________________________________________________

“And I found that I can do it if I choose to - I can stay awake and let the sorrows of the world tear me apart and then allow the joys to put me back together different from before but whole once again.”

― Oriah Mountain Dreamer  

Once again as always, thank you to Florence as well, who has been my favorite muse in the last year.

Too Much is Never Enough

I acted as though my love was enough for two and
prayed that my huge heart could make up for you.
I dreamed that if I could only be consistent
you would wake up and forget the resistance.

Subscribing to the illusion that you would see
that I would never hurt or disappoint you;
I only wanted peace,
in the deepest, most sacred parts of you.

Like the stars chase the sun,
over the glowing hill, I will conquer.

Alas, some wounds run far too deep,
and some things never sleep.
But I never stopped trying
even when inside I was dying.

Even still, you are headstrong
unwilling to bend, unable to bond.
Uncomfortable with staying, too conflicted
to leave.

I know that you loved me, and
I know that you still do.
But something bigger grips you
than my efforts can break through

And my love is no good
Against the fortress that it made of you.

To which only you have the key.


**Tip of the hat to Florence & the Machine's "Queen of Peace," off of the album shown below**

Avoiding Voids

You cannot find happiness
while focused on avoiding
being unhappy.

You can't stay for fear
when holding on to a part
of you that is gone.

The harder you hold
the quicker you'll drop
what is destined to no one.

If it visits you, cherish it
for it will never repeat.

As the blood that runs through your flesh

you are alive, so live

as you are blessed.

Inspired by Verse 24 of the Tao Te Ching and Florence & the Machine

My personal favorite translation, that I own, shown below.

Tourniquet

There are many different kinds of heartache.
The visible, earth shattering, volatile shriek;
The quiet, slow leaked, suffocating blister;
The banished, unfathomable, piercing vice;
The unassuming, shadowed, marooned wail;
The jailed, wild, storming stampede.

Like a virus, splitting once and then nursed,
Only to replicate into magnificent cells of heat
That burn like a thousand suns
That no amount of shelter can shade.
There is no antidote, no escape route.
No "x" marks the spot, no finish line, no parole.

There are many different safeguards
we craft to soothe our fears of losing
that which we could never own to begin with.
Yet no parachute could ever brace
the impact of knowing it is gone.
The only guarantee in life
is that it will change.

It will hurt like hell,
and it will change.

Gratitude of the day

For men out there who are humble and brave enough to show women that they're "not all that way" and not all out to hurt/marginalize/laugh at/look down on/control/exploit/sexualize them, rather than just get defensive and say it's "not them" and/or "not their job." For those willing to fight for equality, because they know, it's not just for women, not just feminism, it's for the health and betterment of our world.

Those who are insightful, and humble enough to realize it's their pride that keeps them from treating not just women, but all others the way they should; and instead perpetuating (by action/inaction) the very mistreatment they'd rather not own.

By admitting to himself- that by living in this world, speaking today's language, consuming this culture, and expressing masculinity; he (as we all do) has a hand in the systematic, institutionalized oppression and disenfranchisement of women. Even if for no other reason than by association, he also has a hand in the pot.

And once admitting/acknowledging this, being able to take it a step further, to "man up," to borrow the cultural slang, and choose to act, speak out, change and teach, another way. To teach other men, boys, persons of all genders, the duality of our existence. The ways we are all feminine, all masculine, and that neither side of leaning, has to equate with being strong. That we all can be strong, regardless of gender or ways we express that- we can all expect differently and manifest a different way of life than what has been created, supported, promoted and forced on us for generations.

For men with an inherent understanding that so, many, women out there have been hurt, controlled, damaged, used, raped, and lived in fear because of this - only to have this same oppression and disempowerment perpetuated (and even rewarded/promoted) in the culture we're all exposed to every day. For men willing to examine themselves, the way they treat women (and others) and start by changing himself. We've all got our hands in the pot, and none of us are coming out with our hands clean.

Most of all, for those men who are brave enough to know how scary it can be to  stand up for change, and to live in a way that sets them apart from other men, and at times, their own culture and protected bubble, and exposes them to ridicule or exclusion, and do it anyway. Those who know that one little spark can ignite a bonfire of change in the way all of us live, think, speak, the example we set and the ways we treat each other. Thank you, to each and every man out there, you all inspire me to be a better woman, and a better person.

Today's inspiration, thank you Terry Crews.

(Please excuse and any missed grammar or spelling issues, the absence of spellchecker on this app reminds me how much I've come to depend on it!)