Transformative Prose
Born into this life, we are light wrapped in sinew and skin.
We’re given 5 liters of blood and a breath of oxygen.
Labels are soon affixed to our tender human egos like our gender and race.
Yet our spirit remains nameless, existing beyond the limits of time and space.
Beings of pure energy physically embodied, we are lighting in a bottle.
I struggle with perseverating on traumas both ancient and recent.
I know my mind is searching for a way to protect me, though in doing so it binds me tightly to the experiences that seem to scald me.
I used to want to sever my ties to the subjects I perseverated on, to ablate the neurons in my brain that remembered the most painful moments and thought the most disturbing ideas.
Now I know that every challenging experience holds within it a gift, the lotus seed within the mud.
I invite you to try this: recall a traumatic memory, and ask yourself what lesson can be gleaned from it.
For example, in remembering the times my body has been violated, may I be reminded that I am worthy of respect and healthy boundaries.
In linking trauma to sacred life lessons, you will transform the uncomfortable memory into a powerful tool to heal yourself.
The traumatic memory may remain searing lifelong, however you will hold the gift in the palm of your hand and therefore be able to use it to create the life you want, starting with feeling better right here, right now.
When I do this I feel peaceful, hopeful, and at ease.
May you always find the gifts you need to soothe your heart, mind, body, and spirit.
If you look deeply enough into anything, you will see everything.
The motion in the stillness, the health within the illness.
The simplicity in complexity, the you within the me.
We are cut from the same cloth, woven by threads of love.
The same love that ushers us into and out of this world, and holds us tenderly in our moments of need.
Meeting this moment, I see the breath in all things, the potential of even seemingly inert objects to transform again and again.
I ran outside to see the super moon
My eyes caught only fire flies, and that’s when I realized
Like the moon, we are all mirrors for the sun, specks of stardust
I ran outside holding withered roses, cursing the thorns in my haste
That is when I tasted the truth that my lips don’t only produce diamonds and flowers, but toads and vipers too
I was only kidding myself that just because I act selfless, doesn’t mean I don’t have selfish desires
Narcissism is the sharpest edge of the empathic knife with which I forge through life
If I didn’t possess any of those qualities, how could I have attracted those types to me?
With renewed gratitude, I love my humble husband
The only thing he fills my hands with are his own, and that is enough
After the last dish was washed I ran outside, overwhelmed with anger and grief for what I cannot undo
I struck a chair pose, sitting into my discomfort until my thighs burned and my mind emptied and my excess energy evaporated upward, toward the super moon
It happened again.
Anxiety wrapped me up so tightly I must untangle myself with scribbles that you are kind enough to read.
Socializing leaves me aching with regret for the words I said wrong and the words I didn’t say.
I feel like a failure, even though I know that is a harsh conclusion, I feel it still.
I feel inept, like no matter what I do I won’t ever feel comfortable in social situations.
Even though I have undiagnosed autism spectrum disorder, as is more common in females. Even though I have worked painfully hard to hide my differentness, my social awkwardness rarely stays below ground for long.
In the game of whac-a-mole, the moles keep popping up no matter how many I whack.
Self-love, self-compassion, forgiveness, humor, perspective, reassurance that I belong in this human family, in this world, that I am enough, that I am worthy of love, as we all are: these are the treasures I have gathered along my journey.
These are the treasures I hope you find and cherish as well. They must be carefully cultivated, nourished and loved.
May you feel nourished and loved.
May you rest on the shores of peace.
Inhale what you need. Exhale what is no longer serving you.
All is well, even when we are under cloud cover, the clear sky remains above all.
For the duration of my whole life, the sun has never stopped shining- there were only times that I couldn’t see it.
The moon is a reminder of what I don’t see.
Maybe everybody feels this way sometimes, and it is normal and ok.
May I remember that I am blessed beyond measure even during the uncomfortable moments of this human journey.
Storms will rise, then pass.
May my breath be my anchor to weather me through until I see the sky of blue again.
To simplify thoughts and emotional responses to things, label experiences as:
a) Pleasurable
b) Unpleasurable
c) Neutral
When the body is free of tension, and the mind is free of fear, peace can fill your heart to overflowing, pour forth from your spirit’s center
Breathe in and release the tension from your body
Can you feel it now?
Some poems get swallowed whole by sleep
Like dreams that only my mind’s eye keeps
Some men want to know if I am a virgin
What version of virgin would you like to explore
I tend not to count the non-consensual or the bisexual encounters
I don’t count quantity, I feel out quality
If you feel me, you know
I say yes with silence and with my own lips and with the parting of my hips like the red sea
Amidst it all I hope you see me
I performed ancestral energy healing ceremonies on stage in a dream last night
I blew fluffy airborne dandelion seeds with my mind
A soft breeze blew one seed down my own throat
All the magic in the world is not as powerful as heartfelt truth
Perhaps this is where the next phase of my spiritual growth starts
A continuum of all that has come before
I spent most of my life swallowed by severe anxiety and depression, flung from one extreme of bipolar to the other without ever letting on about my inner experiences to anyone.
I am damn hopeful that I will crack this seed open and blossom because I feel growing pains and I feel the Earth below and the Sky above.
Though I sometimes forget it, I am made of Love
If I ever have children (if my body can forgive me for a lifetime of multifaceted abuse), I hope to give them a more robust and diverse repertoire of coping skills than the ones my parents left me
Instead of beginning and ending with cheap alcoholism and angst, I hope that my children draw from a complete rainbow of abilities
Mindfulness and movement; may they know the sweet depths of meditation, may they return to the present moment through gentle awareness again and again, and may they bathe in the ecstasy of a daily movement practice such as yoga, qi gong, tai chi, or wild freestyle dance, may they know that peace is always a breath away.
Contact with nature: may they be blessed with the sight of many sunrises and sunsets, may the sky fill their eyes and their lungs; may they have nature in their hearts and in their homes and may they submerge themselves in forests for sanctuary.
Interconnectedness: may my children know that they are loved unconditionally; may they connect with loved ones regularly, may they feel safe and supported in this world. May they draw on ancient wisdom and allow space for new realizations. May they feel both one in a million and a million in one.
Humility: may my children not overburden themselves with pressure; with realistic expectations may they wander more easily through life, may they balance unhelpful thoughts with helpful thoughts, may they rise up for an eagle’s eye view from time to time, especially during trying times.
We are all children at our core. May we know all of these blessings and more.
I’ve got that medusa head
Curls on curls, in your bed
Don’t look into my eyes, I’ll turn you to stone
Then you won’t hear me calling on your phone
I don’t mean to be venomous
It’s just how I am I guess
When the radio asks for a donation, I change the station
My cogitation gets agitated, dancing between play and work, dinner and dessert
I try to chop off the head of an anxious thought, for naught-
More troubled rumination sprouts from the wound
I pray inner peace will resurface soon
Always a breath away
I tend to scheme for a way out of struggle, but maybe I’ll try a different approach and settle in for a lifetime of learning
Ever adapting, meeting, greeting, innovating
Constantly changing, growing
This life was perfectly imperfect when we arrived
And will remain so after we leave
Work was waiting for us before our birth, and will remain long after our body’s death
So we can relax and float down the river
We don’t have to fight against the current or feel like we are drowning
Floating is what happens when we stop struggling
Sage Burner Poetry 