Grieve like you really mean it. A freestyle poem for tough times.

Freestyle, no edits. From my body, to my heart, to my mouth, to your ears. (With some fun technology tossed in the middle).

The audio, in real-time:

 (5 minutes)

Grieve like you really mean it

grieve like you really mean it because life is hard but you’re still alive, you still have this

this

this look out the window at the bird on the shovel hanging out of the wheelbarrow in the afternoon light

you still have this

this shadow of the chair standing still against the wall while the shadow of the leaves dance around it

you still have this

your beautiful body in the mirror, that woman you’re learning to make peace with amidst all the pain, all the things you never thought it would come to

grieve like you mean it because you are still alive

and it is a blessing to feel sadness so deep

sadness you want to find someone else to blame for

sadness you want to break things over

sadness you wish you didn’t have to feel

yes—I’m talking to you

to that part of you that knows, not in your head, but in your body

how badly you need the sadness

for all those winters you avoided the cold

for all those summers you stayed by the fan

for all the times it rained and you had an umbrella

you need the sadness

us humans are good at creating shelters, homes to live in, comfort, stability

but even we cannot avoid the pain that comes with being alive

even we have a price to pay

and maybe it’s not so physical

maybe we don’t as often suffer the terror of tsunami

or the chill of a tornado… ripping and ravaging our towns

but we are left broken-hearted

we are left alone in our rooms when we thought we had forever

we are left at the doormat of the home we no longer recognize because it is not embodied and imbued with the life of our parents or our children

we suffer, we suffer despite our shelters

suffer like you mean it

wail. do not wait.

wail loudly. now.

if there is suffering in your heart, find the song, find the poem, find the picture that breaks you apart and let go.

you deserve it.

to know that you are part of all things that have to suffer

it is the price we pay for life, it is the price we pay for beauty, it is the price we pay for breathing and for smiling and for laughing and for orgasming and for kissing and for eating delicious foods and tasting blueberries explode in our mouths; it is the price we pay

it is its own form of beauty

all that have had a lump stuck in their throat for years know that when they finally break down in tears, it is freedom

grieve like you mean it

grieve like you mean it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 

The invitation:

Deep loves,

I've been in a dark hour of the soul over here, transitioning and growing up in ways I was never expecting. My answers to these questions are emerging like flies on the wall; an overflowing trashcan, asking to be emptied into poems:

• What’s between you and that life-changing release of grief? 
• What gets in the way of letting your guard down and letting it all out? 
• When you do… when you grieve like you really mean it, what are you letting in?
• What or who are you forgiving?
• And what happens, in your body, as you go through this experience?

The comments are yours for the taking. Simmer on it. Speak to us. Or muse in your own private space. Extra credit if you're currently in an especially tender spot in your life.

I honor and appreciate you so much for being here.

madlymadly for you,

rachael

love letter to a changing heart

dearest heart,

i honor the dance you're doing between fear and faith. it's so hard to change patterns, isn't it? but you're doing a really great job. i know how easy it is for me to run you around without your consent, without checking in to see how you're doing. i want to be extra gentle with you during this transitional time. i want to extend my deepest form of love. i'm ready to ask, how can i be more loving? i have a feeling the deepest love i can offer includes persistence, patience and acceptance -- an odd combo, but an important one.

so here it goes:

i promise to persistently believe that you are worthy of gentle attention and slow breaths of awareness. i promise to insist that you are meant for calm strength and deep power. i promise to point you toward love-based action rather than fear-based avoidance over and over again.

i promise to be patient with the process of faith. i promise to give you all the time you may need. i promise to extend kindness and forgiveness as you inevitably fall into old patterns of fear and anxiety. those patterns are part of the process of faith. there's no linear end. there's a dance. i promise to let you dance as you will -- some nights sexy, some nights stepping on your own feet, some nights completely letting go with joy and freedom.

i promise to accept you for exactly where you are. to love all your sides and hidden parts. your shame, your pride, your ego, your humility. i promise to withhold judgment -- because judgment hurts us both. i promise to honor you as you are.

are you feeling any better? if not, that's okay. just know that you are in an incredible space of opening to the way things are. try, if you can, to believe that seeing is the very thing that points us in the direction of honest love--the direction of spiritual power. you're seeing. it's big. like, revolutionary big. you're there. trust me. just keep going.

all the love in the universe,
rachael

ps--if you're wondering where to go or how to move, dear heart, i'd say take one bold step in direct defiance of fear. fear's getting tired of hearing herself talk, anyway. it's true!

pps--i am so excited for you.

Trusting Nothing

what if the mess on your floor doesn't need tidying, and the time on your hands doesn't need filling?
what if there is no next step, nothing to add to the list, nowhere to be, and no one to feel obligated to?
what if you aren't foolish when you have nothing to report on?
what if the truth is--most of us don't?
what if you don't need to know where you're going or just how?
what if the empty space is an important placeholder, as your heart begins to shift into knowing?
what if all that's powerful & good comes from quietly trusting the wide open unknown?
what if you believed that something could be born out of nothing?

these are the questions i've been asking myself lately, dear friends, as i float through my life, completely ignoring the heaps of clothing everywhere, the un-answered phone, the un-showered body, the un-ridden brand new bicycle that's staring me down with shine, the un-written thank you notes. i haven't been able to do much post-wedding. my body feels tired and my mind wiped. but here's the groundbreaking twist that i keep coming up with--the thing that's keeping my soul sane:

nothing, as excruciating and terrifying as it may sometimes feel, is actually something.

nothing is vital space, stillness, openness, emptiness, answerless, and formless mojo.

nothing is defiant and powerful, giving us the rare opportunity to choose compassion over misery, patience over haste, gratitude over self-pity, and awareness over ego.  

i've been trying these things the past week, as i lounged on the couch a whole heck-of-a-lot:

not rushing to fill the nothing
loving the untraveled corners of my heart that i've been venturing into--mystery and all
gathering trust in the glimpses and pebbles that emerge, without needing to instantly turn them into definite somethings
forgiving myself when i revert to somethings i know i don't care for, just so i don't have to sit with the unknown of nothing

in a world where we're routed toward endless striving for better, thinner, smarter, nicer, wiser, richer, faster, sexier, cooler somethings bottled up and packaged nicely--it feels awkward & outcast to simply sit with nothing. hunches but no certainties. ideas but no follow-throughs. thoughts but no words. sights but no names.

but that's where i am these days. in a place of nothings. it's a tender place--like just being born, a little bit. powerful & wise & happy without knowing much at all. i just have to wait & believe that all this nothing isn't lost on me. that something bold is rearranging in my heart--something i might still never be able to name--even as it all unfolds. if i can just stand by with love until it's ready, knowing that this heart can trust a whole heck-of-a-lot more than i think it can.

One Year Later

When I graduated from college back in May '09, I felt hazy about what I would do next. Except when I looked at things from the angle of what I wouldn't do. My internal dialogue sounded something like this: I won't sell my soul and spirit to the 9 to 5 convention. I won't drive myself into the ground with commitment and responsibility to something I'm not passionate about. I won't get the job that sounds good but feels miserable... I won't, I won't, I won't!

Thinking about it now, it reminds me of a scene from the movie Milk when someone confronts Harvey Milk about running such a negative campaign. Milk is told (I'm paraphrasing), "You don't win campaigns by pointing out everything that's bad or by saying what you won't stand for--You win campaigns by creating an inspired vision--something people can hold onto--something people can have hope in and stand behind and fight for--not against."

So I have a secret to share: I've been tossing around ideas. Big ideas. Big, inspired, juicy, exciting ideas. And I've been having these moments of truth where I find myself asking: Why not jump in and get messy with what I love? What do I have to lose? How bad could it really get? Maybe my resistance (and the tug-of-war I have with it) has created just the right combination of space and obligation. Maybe I could really pull it off--a life of authentic pursuit, not just a life of authentic resistance.

Unfortunately, I think we all might be able to guess what my gremlins have to say about my big, juicy dreams...

If you begin working for your own inspired vision you will fail, hate it, suck at it, or die from it. Plain and simple. This is not a laughing matter. Why are you chuckling? YOU SUCK! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO CHUCKLE! (And I meant it... You will die).

Talk about a discouraging internal psyche! Whew! (And I apologize for the scary caps!) But it's the truth--we all have them. The monsters. The goblins. The internal pests that are trying to protect us from failure and scraped knees. The scary caps!

Still. There is another voice that's been nudging me lately. She is much kinder, and sounds something like this...

Apply for the grant. You have all the support you need. You are talented enough with so many beautiful ideas. Your work will make a difference AND you'll feel amazing doing it. Even if (when!) it doesn't go perfectly--you'll learn from it. It will be an important process. You can do it. You can do it. Do it, sweetie. You won't regret it!

So I thought I'd let you know where I am tonight. Somewhere in between fear and trust, with a heart that knows there is nothing authentic without both, and a soul that's hopeful for balance between the two. This is no easy place to be. It feels much like standing at a ledge and readying myself to jump. How will it feel? Terrifying like crashing? Or liberating like flying? Maybe a bit of both is necessary.

I'm mustering the courage to say it's almost time to find out.

What about you? Do you feel yourself teetering between fear and trust? Has your heart reconciled and learned to take leaps? I'd love to hear your story in email, snail mail or comments below. Truly.

And here's one for the big joyful wishes...

May you greet them each with deep trust and knowing, that all the right ones come true.

So many things I wish I knew how to tell you...

Really. There are.

I wish I knew how to tell you all the stories of all the times when I was just about to give up hope, but something came along and turned the tide in my direction.

Or that I know how it feels to compromise myself for the possibility of love, but that the only way real love has ever evolved in my life was from the stubborn determination to Offer Who I Am.

Or how hard it feels to stop telling myself lies about my own self-worth and potential. But how deep the pay off is when I do.

Or how much I'm riding on trust.

I wish I knew how to tell you that in between my endless pout over living in a basement apartment, there are moments in the early morning when that big jewel in the sky shines her rays right through my one window, right onto my morning cup of coffee, and warms my hands, reminding me to slow down, to be present.

I wish I knew how to tell you without so much fear that I have art waiting for you. That I've been creating like crazy over here, and that soon I'm going to let you in on my creations and pray that you'll want one.

And I wish I knew how to tell you that I know I'm making compromises right now--playing the "working woman" role, and leaving less time than I'd like for my soul work. But how I also know that I need this--at least one month without complete havoc over how I'll pay my rent.

I wish I knew how to tell you that I'm not afraid of the living the life I'm meant to live--I'm not afraid of my path. I'm ready for it. Today. This very minute. But even still, I find myself coming up against new edges, new fears, and having to contract again in order to expand again.

I wish I could tell you that I know what it's like to feel lost from my path. Like the universe is not on my side. When I'm wishing and dreaming and things still aren't coming true. But that all those things are part of my story. Part of the sadness and the struggle and the resistance that help me hope with even more heart.

I wish I knew how to tell you that having you here with me gives me courage, gives me trust, and helps me believe that I'm meant for this.

We are in this together. Our dreams are waiting for us. And the world needs us to be true to our hearts. Especially now during such desperate times. The world needs us to create more beauty--and beauty doesn't come from waiting for the right situation, the perfect moment, a better economy, or enough credentials. Beauty comes from the broken, the vulnerable, the honest, the true. It comes from the hopeful heart.

Today, even when I don't know how to express myself like I'd prefer, I come to you from my heart, offering myself to you as a partner-in-dreaming, hoping you'll say Yes.