Your vulnerability is f*cking gorgeous

by Sarah Harvey

 

stop it. stop hiding that fragile part of you

the part you think no one could ever love

oh my dear,

that is your most lovable part of all.

pull up the sheets, pull open the tattered seams

let your mask fall away and dissolve into stale thin air

let your naked heart ooze out

like a fresh ruby sea.

there is no point

to live

and invest so many hours in hiding who we really are

cleverly concealed

silently suppressed—

that’s just dying a slow-motion death

freezing our fiery souls to wither and decay

into vapid, yet subtle tones of winter-like misery.

f*ck that. 

do the braver thing…

step into the epic bloomin’ springtime of your soul. 

be ignited. be vivified. be weird as hell. be excited. be sad. be brilliantly YOU.

dance in the totality of every fractured part of your soul— 

step into the full vibrance of who you truly are

your vulnerability is f*cking gorgeous

don’t hide it

anymore.

do the braver thing, 

don’t hide, at all—

take the risk

take the plunge

to be you

all of you

every godddamn gorgeous

part. 

be yourself

and see how life

embraces you

so

softly,

so utterly

sweetly. 

The Invitation

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

— Oriah Mountain Dreamer

At the Window

I was at the window
when a fly near the latch
was on its back spinning—
legs furious, going nowhere.

I thought to swat it
but something in its struggle
was too much my own.

It kept spinning and began to tire.
Without moving closer, I exhaled
steadily, my breath a sudden wind
and the fly found its legs,
rubbed its face
and flew away.

I continued to stare at the latch
hoping that someday, the breath
of something incomprehensible
would right me and
enable me to fly.

Mark NepoThe Way Under The Way

For a New Begining

In out of the way places of the heart
Where your thoughts never think to wander
This beginning has been quietly forming
Waiting until you were ready to emerge.

For a long time it has watched your desire
Feeling the emptiness grow inside you
Noticing how you willed yourself on
Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.

It watched you play with the seduction of safety
And the grey promises that sameness whispered
Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent
Wondered would you always live like this.

Then the delight, when your courage kindled,
And out you stepped onto new ground,
Your eyes young again with energy and dream
A path of plenitude opening before you.

Though your destination is not clear
You can trust the promise of this opening;
Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning
That is one with your life’s desire.

Awaken your spirit to adventure
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk
Soon you will be home in a new rhythm
For your soul senses the world that awaits you.

– John O’Donohue

To sit and wait

“As soon as I felt a necessity to learn about the nonhuman world, I wished to learn about it in a hurry. And then I began to learn perhaps the most important lesson that nature had to teach me: that I could not learn about her in a hurry. The most important learning, that of experience, can be neither summoned nor sought out. The most worthy knowledge cannot be acquired by what is known as study — though that is necessary, and has its use. It comes in its own good time and its own way to the man who will go where it lives, and wait, and be ready, and watch. Hurry is beside the point, useless, an obstruction. The thing is to be attentively present. To sit and wait is as important as to move. Patience is as valuable as industry. What is to be known is always there. When it reveals itself to you, or when you come upon it, it is by chance. The only condition is your being there and being watchful.”

-Wendell Berry, The Long-Legged House

I said to my soul, be still

If you are like me, impatient and impetuous, fiery and restless–and Hump Day is the worst, anything in the middle and halfway is unbearable–then let these words soothe the embers of your soul:

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

– An excerpt from “East Coker,” part of T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets

Slow Dance by David L. Weatherford

Slow Dance
by David L. Weatherford

Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round,
or listened to rain slapping the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly’s erratic flight,
or gazed at the sun fading into the night?

You better slow down, don’t dance so fast,
time is short, the music won’t last.

Do you run through each day on the fly,
when you ask “How are you?”, do you hear the reply?

When the day is done, do you lie in your bed,
with the next hundred chores running through your head?

You better slow down, don’t dance so fast,
time is short, the music won’t last.

Ever told your child, we’ll do it tomorrow,
and in your haste, not see his sorrow?

Ever lost touch, let a friendship die,
’cause you never had time to call and say hi?

You better slow down, don’t dance so fast,
time is short, the music won’t last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere,
you miss half the fun of getting there.

When you worry and hurry through your day,
it’s like an unopened gift thrown away.

Life isn’t a race, so take it slower,
hear the music before your song is over.

 

David L. Weatherford is a child psychologist. You could read more of his poems, prose and aphorism on his website.

Owls & Diabetes

2016-05-04 11.22.15

As he looked at me, David Sedaris said, “Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“Have you ever been arrested?” he said.

“Did it involve alcohol?” he continued.

Then he drew scissors and signed his name in the book I had just bought. The book, he observed, was a large print edition, which I did not know at the time of purchasing. I was as bewildered by that as he was.

The book signing took place after David Sedaris gave an hour long reading at Royce Hall in UCLA. It was the first time I had seen Sedaris live. He is every bit as good in person. Definitely worth attending.