… to stop searching

a poem:

Having loved enough and lost enough,

I'm no longer searching

just opening,

no longer trying to make sense of pain

but trying to be a soft and sturdy home

in which real things can land.

These are the irritations

that rub into a pearl.

So we can talk for a while

but then we must listen,

the way rocks listen to the sea.

And we can churn at all that goes wrong

but then we must lay all distractions

down and water every living seed.

And yes, on nights like tonight

I too feel alone. But seldom do I

face it squarely enough

to see that it's a door

into the endless breath

that has no breather,

into the surf that human

shells call God.

~Mark Nepo

what would it look like to stop searching

and only stand still

face the door

face fear

accept what we cannot change

rub against challenge

be refined into a pearl

and stopped questioning 

the waves and tides engulfing our entire bodies

and stopped looking back at the shore 

wondering what it would be to return

questioning whether there is another

safe shore in the future

what if we just listened to the sea

what would it look like to stop searching

I wish I could be that still in the water

knowing I was one day going to be a pearl

but rocks hurt.

they hurt really bad.

read this everyday,

C

sea glass

let it heal

a wise instructor read the following poem in class

this weekend at the nyc yoga journal conference.

this needs no preface. just soak. i still am.

Let it Heal By Ruth Forman

Listen to the song and let is tell you how

be quiet be quiet be still

let the angels put their hands on where it hurts and

smooth be quiet be still

ask for prayers around you and bathe in song

be quiet be quiet be still

sit in children's laughter twice a day

be quiet be quiet be still

leave your thoughts for another time

wrap yourself in daylight

knit yourself a friend tighter than you imagined

let good people close to you

move away from those that suck from you

be safe be quiet be still

if you have no hands

write

if you have no feet

walk

if you have no voice 

sing

and a chorus will carry you

if you have no eyes

see 

if you have no arms

hug

be thankful be quiet be still

and the pouring come upon you like holy water

and the healing a new plant

break the ground

emerge clean and willing

sorry and thankful

new and quiet

rejoice

like children at kickball

wise like grandmother's on the stoop

ready to live

and whole

ready

and

whole.

wrap yourself in daylight,

C

conquer: be patient and trust

It was July 23, 2011. I have it written down so that I will always remember.
I had just started a new medication and facing the extreme "side-effect" anxiety.
I knew that sometimes the medicine worked, and sometimes... it only made it worse.
I was terrified and miserable for days worrying, 
"Am I different today? Is it getting worse or am I just paranoid? Am I supposed to be dizzy?"
I spent days sifting through the emotions of my body adjusting to the medicine
and I had begun to think I was going to give up, I couldn't keep feeling like I was walking on air.


I still don't know how, but I got up to open the coffeeshop that morning (aka 4:30)
and I just happened to feel the need to grab "The Inner Voice of Love" by Henri J.M. Nouwen
on my way out the door. I usually had about thirty minutes alone with only 2 customers at 6:00 a.m. so I figured I might as well read.


I was completely defeated and beginning to lose hope. I didn't understand... I had already had this massive breakthrough, I was ready to do this. I was ready to get better. I didn't want to feel submerged in the depths of the disorder anymore... but this was all getting too blurry again. Would I ever make it out?


And then at 5:45 a.m. I had finished all of the opening work I flipped open the book.
Prayer answered. 

"Receive All the Love That Comes to You"

by Henri J.M. Nouwen

While you may feel physically and mentally strong, you still experience a forceful undercurrent of anguish. You sleep well, you work well, but there are few waking moments when you do not feel that throbbing pain in your heart that makes everything seem up in the air. You know that you are progressing, but you can't understand why this anguish keeps pervading everything you think, say, or do. There is still a deep, unresolved pain, but you cannot take it away yourself. It 

exists far deeper than you can reach.

Be patient and trust. You have to move gradually deeper into your heart. There is a place far down that is like a turbulent river, and that place frightens you. But do not fear. One day it will be quiet and peaceful.

You have to keep moving, as you are doing. Live a faithful, disciplined life, a life that gives you a sense of inner strength, a life in which you can receive more and more of the love that comes to you. Wherever there is real love for you, take it and be strengthened by it. As your body, heart, and mind come to know that you are loved, your weakest part will feel attracted to that love. What has remained separated and unreachable will let itself be drawn into the love you have been able to receive. One day you will discover that your anguish is gone. It will leave you because your weakest self let itself be embraced by your love.

You are not yet there, but you are moving fast. There will be a bit more pain and struggle. You have to dare to live through it. Keep walking straight. Acknowledge your anguish, but do not let it pull you out of yourself. Hold on to your chosen direction, your discipline, your prayer, your work, your guides, and trust that one day love will have conquered enough of you that even the most fearful part will allow love to cast out all fear.

For some reason I remembered this passage this week. 

And once again, I opened up my book and relived July 23rd.

I can still remember standing in the coffeeshop crying my eyes out 

because once again I knew

once again I needed to be reminded... one day the anguish would be gone. 

There is hope.

Prayer answered, November 13, 2011.

And still I know I am not yet there. 
Sometimes I don't even feel like I am moving fast, 
while other days I feel as though I am "back to normal"
Then a hard day hits when I go to bed realizing 
I hadn't put everything I could into recovery that day
"keep moving as you are moving"


I wonder if I need extra help and I wonder if I am ready for all of this.
I wonder if it is too much for me to handle alone
And then,
"Keep walking straight. Acknowledge your anguish, 
but do not let it pull you out of yourself... 
dare to live through it."

I worry that people can see that people know,
that they judge.
I have nightmares about disordered thoughts,
that wake me up and try to make me believe the lies.
"the most fearful part will allow love to cast out all fear."


I catch a taste of that love every Sunday.
I move closer and closer to recognizing the taste of love,
remembering what it feels like to love... and to be loved.
Tonight, I had to rush out of church in time to catch the subway back with a new friend
and I ran over to say goodbye to a God-send, Hilary.
"Oh okay girlfrannn you go and run, text me this week, okay?
Love you girl."

I almost tripped on my skirt.
But my instinct reacted quicker with a smile.
"Love you too, Bye!!"

Step by step, love is conquering the fear

Love from other people, Love for myself,

Love for other people and Love for life.

Step by step, be patient and trust.

"keep walking straight"

conquer.

"keep moving forward"

conquer.

"there will be a bit more pain and struggle"

conquer.

"move gradually deeper"

conquer.

"allow love to cast out all fear"

conquer.

be patient and trust,

C