Tag Archives: truth

Love You

If I could tell him one thing, it would be this: be who you are, now.  I can tell him, but not without that lingering notion that I don’t really mean it. I can tell him, but not yet without the tears in my eyes.

If I could say one last thing, it would be this: love you who are, now…right now.  I can tell him, but he’s not ready.  I can say the words, but he thinks me biased, blinded by preciousness.

I tell you this: I have seen unconditional love.  I have held it tightly only to let it fly.  I have danced with it until my feet were bruised and bloodied.  I have taken it on as me.

And then I get scared.

Yet above and below there is a sense that we are safe.  I bleed into it sometimes.  I feel pushed by it.  The unconditional love is there.  It is a well I draw from on instinct.  When I look in his eyes, I drink from that well.  We live there, I think.  But we forget.

So I’ll tell him all I feel compelled to in silence.  I will whisper it as a prayer to this soft, yet empty room.  I will let my words bounce gently off the walls and gather them up as light kisses on my skin.

And I will know: I can be who I am, now.  I can love who I am, now…right now.

And all is unfolding just as it should.

Indeed, I cannot be anything but what I am.

Flickr Credit

Share Button

My First Anniversary

I had almost forgotten that tomorrow, June 13th, is a special day.  Tomorrow is my anniversary.  Tomorrow will mean that I have not binged or purged for one full year. I expected to feel thrilled by this, but I don’t.

Last summer, as I tallied up the days and weeks that passed by without lapsing into the bulimic pattern that had plagued me since I was 15 years old, I felt relief and pride.  Nearly one year later though, I find myself feeling apathetic about the idea.  I mean, so what?  I didn’t even lose weight this year.

And that’s when it occurred to me.

I am placing the importance of my body over my spiritual wellness and frankly, that’s what got me into this mess in the first place.

These are the thoughts that keep me here, distracted and caught up in the crazy idea that I am nothing unless I am thin.

There’s a saying in 12-Step…”Progress, not perfection”  and that is where I am.  I am not perfect, far from it.  I mess up.  I commit to a plan of eating and then I lapse.  I commit to an exercise regime and then I find excuses not to continue.  I do all these things, and yet there is a kindness behind my actions that was not there before.  The voice that judges has been hushed, while the voice of compassion has been given a microphone to relay all the reasons why none of it really matters and all should be forgiven.

That is where I am.

So tomorrow, as I breathe deeply and remember a year without violence against myself I will smile.  It is an accomplishment, the result of a commitment to loving myself as a part of the whole.  And though my body may not yet reflect the inner kindness I so freely bestow these days, it will someday.  Or it won’t.  Either way, the truth of who I am no longer seems a distant dream.  It lies just beyond a veil, within reach.  And with help I will part it. And I will know I am so much more than a body.  So much more.

I’m getting there. Undoing so many years of maniacal thinking is no easy task.  And thank God, I do not do it alone.  I could never do it alone.

Flickr Credit

Share Button

I Don’t Want To Hear It

“It’s a rare person who wants to hear what he doesn’t want to hear.” ~Dick Cavett

Lately I have had to face and listen to a lot of things that I have not wanted to face and/or listen to.  It’s as if a dam has been broken and I am struggling to keep my head above water amid the flood.  I am swimming in all the things I have been longing to avoid.  And yet when we ask to grow, when we ask to heal, all the gunk at the bottom of the river must rise to the surface.

I am cleaner for it.  I am clearer for it.

It was painful.  I wanted to drown out the noise and keep my hand across my eyes.  Fear ran through my veins and beat loudly in my heart.  I was taken over, taken down.  I was not beaten though.  Rising up, with tear-stained cheeks and a long deep breath, I smiled.

It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

And I’m still wading through it.  I am treading as best I can and, at times, gasping for air.  Spirit is keeping me afloat and all the while hinting that there is no water to drown me.  One day I’ll see it.  One day I’ll know.

For now though, I see that I can face things I don’t want to face.  I can hear things I don’t want to hear.  I am built for it.  Strong and resilient, gentle and nurturing I stand.  Ready, willing and loved.

I have begun to let go.

Flickr Credit

Share Button

Gravy

“We can figure this out,” I said to the man before me and then felt a gentle tug in the back of my mind.

Not really, it said.

And it was just this morning that I understood.  When I attempt to “figure out” something that is not working, not flowing in my life, I am armed with ego from head to toe.  I am led down countless unnecessary paths of thorns only to end up back right where I started.  I need to take a backseat to my life and hire a new navigator, for I am indeed lost.

But I am willing to be found.

So easily I become addicted to the struggle.  It can be fun to have problems!  People are concerned, I get attention, I start feeling the love.  Temporarily I feel better because at least I’m not in denial right?  Accepting what is, that is a beautiful first step.  Surrendering what is, that is the next and often the most difficult step.

Faith is not built on blindness.  Those of us who have faith have seen the miracles before.  We have borne witness to our own compassionate transformations, the peace and the beauty.

I cannot, but God can.

When I let go, God just is.

The rest is just gravy ♥

Image Credit

Share Button

Peace is What I Want

I’m ok, you know?  Well maybe you knew that all along.  Maybe, if you know me, you think: “That Danielle, she’s ok.”  I have to admit however, that most of the time, me being ‘ok’ is news to me.  Sure, intellectually I know I’m ok, but so often I have to remind myself to speak, think and act from a place of being whole, loved and yes, OK.  I check in with the sane part of my mind for reassurance that I am well….always have been, always will be.

When I look outside of myself, I see things are jumbled, messy and not exactly how I want them to be.  When I look within though, I remember the choice is mine:  “I could see peace instead of this”*.  And that’s when I remember what I really want.

I want Peace.  I want inner peace.

And though there is an incessant chatter in my mind telling to lose weight, whiten my teeth, get published, get more likes on my Facebook page, market more, market better…blah, blah, blah etc., the sane part of my mind whispers: Peace.

“My body is a wholly neutral thing.”** Yes. When I believe this, I am at peace.  When I hear others tell me to love my body, I am not.  And yet peace is what I want.  So while I don’t have to hate my body, I don’t have to love it either.  It is neutral.  It is not who I am.

<deep breath> This body thing is one giant distraction because that is what I make it.

I am getting there.  I give the insane over to the sane…the fear over to love.  It is gentle.  It is enlightening.  It is peaceful.  And it helps me remember that the reason I want Peace is because Peace is what I am. I can see that when I choose to…be that when I decide for it.  Peace is who we are and thank God for that. ♥

Flickr Credit

*A Course in Miracles W34

**A Course in Miracles W294

Share Button

Same Mistakes

Please baby girl, don’t make the same mistakes as me.

And I cannot help but feel it is a selfish plea.  I would suffer.  I would suffer to see her float aimlessly through life looking for love in all the places it is not.  But who am I to judge her journey?  Who am I to dictate what she should learn or how she should learn it?  I am but her mother, but the means of her birth into this world.  In many ways my responsibilities ended there and yet, in many more they just began.

Does she have to make the same mistakes as me?

It is more likely she will make her own.  And though out in the world they may look different than mine, the feelings from within will be the same.  She will ask herself who she is, question that she is enough, wonder if she is beautiful.  I feel like I could answer all of those questions.  I know I could, but it is not I to whom she must listen.  She has her own guide, muffled though He may sound, and I must trust that one day she will hear.

I must trust her mistakes.

And let go.  All I can ever do is my best.  The only shit I can really, truly heal is my own.  And if I listen to my guide, if I am willing to give it all away, it might come to pass.

And she won’t have to make the same mistakes as me.  I can let her make her own.

Share Button

I Opened Up

I opened up.  And all those things I hid for so long came out, came pouring out.  I just kept talking for fear of stopping and not saying it all.  I just kept going.  It was awkward and it was strained, but that’s how freedom starts.  There’s pressure, doubt, tears and then light!  It’s a gentle push that moves through slight obscurity…insecurity.  That’s the beginning of freedom.

I opened up.  And somehow the secrets became silly.  It’s not that I’m silly, or that my feelings were frivolous.  It’s more that the hiding out made things heavier, darker and scarier than they really were.  Truth reminded me I’m not alone, reminded me that I am loved.  And that’s how acceptance starts.  How can I love who I am, accept where I’m at if I cannot share it?  It’s a leap of faith, a risk of foolishness and a soft landing.  That’s the beginning of acceptance.

A wish and a wash.  An offering and a healing.  We bring it all to the light to be lightened.  We bring it all to the truth to remember.

We open up.  And as we do the world shifts and changes.  It’s all for us and not against us.  We are peaceful victors, not violent victims.  We are willing learners, not pompous preachers.  We feel compassion and yet know we can only change what is ours to change.

We open up.  Open to a daily surrender and a life of grateful service.

Open.

Knowing no matter what brought me here, it could not have happened any other way.  I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

And I am open.

Flickr Credit

Share Button

Sharing My Dark

I was inspired by a dear friend to share my darkness here today. It occurs to me that I spend a lot of time and energy trying to hide these things and so I look forward to the lightness and the freedom that will follow.
I do look at my darkness daily. I share it with Spirit. I give it away to be healed. I forgive.
But I still hide.
Why do I do that?
I’m afraid I suppose. I fear rejection. I fear judgement. I fear I won’t be loved.
Of course all of those fears are mistakes. So here goes nothing:

I have 2 pairs of pants that I feel comfortable in.  I hate that I gained weight this past fall and it makes me feel like a failure.

I have a temper.

I resist meditation often.  I work through the resistance, but it bothers me that I have the resistance at all.

I fear being misunderstood and often justify my words and opinions.

I pretend to like things I don’t so that others won’t be hurt.

I want to help people and am all too often willing to do so for free.  Sometimes it’s out of fear that they will think I’m greedy otherwise, but often I just want to help and taking money feels weird.

I’ve left my baby screaming in her crib because I’ve been too overwhelmed to soothe her.

I’ve stolen.

I’ve been jealous of the success of others.

I’ve hurt myself on purpose.

I have manipulated people and situations in order to get what I want.

I’ve eaten more than my fill.

I still harbour resentments.

And all of this I will heal.  All of this I will look at with love and remember what is true. Writing it out, getting it out feels better than letting it race through my mind unheeded.

I am fine.  Truth is good. It is, in fact, light.

Flickr Credit

Share Button

Let Me Remember

My life is a teeter-totter of perfection and unworthiness.  It’s actually pretty funny to witness.  I’m amazing, I suck.  I’m the best, I’m the freakin’ worst.  I’m hot as hell, I’m oh God who is *that*?! And so on.  You get it.  It’s endless and it’s ridiculous.  I’m making all of this much too real.

The real me has nothing to do with these half-hearted extremes.  The real me could care less about all this judgement and projection.  The real me is perfect, unending love.  All I have to do is remember.

So in the meantime….

Let me remember that I can always change my mind about what I see.  Let me recall that all the challenging people in my life are reflecting back to me lessons I need to learn.  May I be still long enough to forgive.  May I reach out for reminders of love.

In the middle and underneath all of the craziness beats a reality of immortal light.  I am there.  Let me remember.  I am there.

Flick Credit

Share Button

How Compassion Feels

I like how compassion feels.  I love the light within and around it.  I love the promise it holds…the unity that is implied.

If compassion could speak, what would it say?  Perhaps it would stay quiet.  Yes, I think it would.  Compassion would silently smile and nod with arms wide open and light pouring from its breast.  I like that image.

I feel that today.  It would be wonderful if that feeling could last forever.  When I feel this way, I feel true to form.  It feels authentic and not at all presumptuous.  My ego would have me think otherwise.  It would have me recall all the times I’ve judged, attacked and screamed to get my way.  I won’t think about that now though…that will be forgiven and released.  For now  I’ll focus on the light with the silent smile…

And all who cross my path and my mind today are blessed.  It is automatic!  I feel their energy and caress it with my own.  May you feel peace today.  May you forgive.  May you wrap yourself in love’s blanket.

What’s wonderful about this feeling is that now that I have felt it, I have a memory of it.  I can recall this any time.  So the next time self-pity comes calling, I can remember a time I felt peace, love and joyous compassion.  It was not a dream.  It is my truth.  It is our truth.

Amen to that ♥

Flick Credit

Share Button