5.7
April 8, 2021

Don’t Forget to Hold Space for Your Own Heart.

What a year.
Exhaustion, bone-deep
It is so real.
All week, spent hearing them
Saturated in the fields of others’ feelings —caring, offering, serving, loving.
And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

But what about me?
What do I feel? What do I need?
What do I breathe and who am I beneath it all when the sun goes down and stars burst bright and dazzle, dripping sparkles on my naked skin?
I stop and notice, ceasing all activity.
The forsythia is bright and wild, vivid yellow
I can taste it, like sun, dripping into my mouth
Painting goosebumps
That sing me a sweet lullaby.

I tilt my head back
And tears trickle down
For no particular reason
A release
And while I adore holding space for others
I need to hold space for me, too.
I need to claw out of the tasks that pile up
And let nourishment seep in.
I need spaciousness
For deep dives inside
Sacred space, I offer thee—
For my own heart.

Wrap up your heart, dearest.
You do so much for everyone else.
Press your palms together
Breathe
Steep in magic and silence
The moss beneath bare feet
As you run between your ribs
To the places inside that are withered and thirsty.
Feel it, feel it, feel it.

We have to make room
For the things that feed us
For the curls that dance like smoke
When we are tired and weary
When we are needing something…
And the sky says—
Oh, dearest
Don’t keep it all in
Don’t forget
To offer yourself the same kindness you offer so easily to others.

Find the thing that brings you back to life
Find it in solitude
Find it in dancing, writing, singing, drawing, reading, bathing, walking, crying, cooking, laughing, in a single cup of tea, deep in a sunny pine forest
Find it in the strength that is always there beneath it all
Rock-solid and hot
The infinite wellspring
To nurture your Self.
This is so important.

I bask here
Speaking to my heart
Exploring her
The words are a gushing waterfall
Then a gentle stream trickles
Washing my feet against cool, pale rocks
All I can hear
In the whispers that taste like fog—
“You can trust this. You can rest here.” 

~

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