I have been Loved
and
therefore
I am Loved.
Whether the giver of Love
loves me still or
is here to love at all –
Having been Loved,
I am Loved.
Love, when Given,
becomes part of the
very fabric of the universe,
joining with every atom & particle
that have been & that will be.
Love, when Received,
becomes part of our
very fabric of Being,
knitting Love into every cell
that has been, that is & that will be…
I have been Loved –
So I am Love.
Thick,
fluffy,
white bread,
sliced by your soft old hands.
Toasted,
golden brown,
reminding me of crunchy autumn leaves.
Wearing a heavy coat of yellow butter like a duvet,
giving comfort,
and warmth,
and homeliness.
A satisfying crunch and warm butter flooding my mouth,
awakening my taste buds,
and stirring my heart
with warmth that transcends temperature…
This evening,
the weather is mild,
but my heart is cool.
And for the first time in near two decades,
I crave the comfort of your toast…
And you.
This is a hard week. Of a hard period.
I’m struggling with feeling flat, my sparkle is gone and my smile – MY smile – is lost; my usually instant, beaming, deep, radiant smile is sluggish & dimmed.
I feel I’m in a period of emotional, spiritual, relational & physical unpeeling. It feels like life is a sea where some days waves constantly splash salty water in my face. Some days I’m sitting on the shore with my ankles in the wet sand, stuck, while everyone else is swimming. And some days, the days I’m myself, I’m enjoying gently paddle boarding, floating in the sunshine, my heart JOYED by the beauty of the shimmer on the water.
Today was a salty wave day. It was hard.
BUT as with the days before this… I showed up! I felt great singing & leading praise music at work this morning (yep, Christian places do that-at work!) – then my emotions & brain capacity went up and down like a chapati-rising one moment then flat as a chapati (or a pancake!) the next. Flattened & lifted & flattened more & lifted & flattened (you get the picture!).
This period gives me the choice – of hiding behind pride or of pursuing the path of Radical Vulnerability. I choose the latter. So in today’s greyness I wore my face as a mirror of my inner self-flat, empty, dull. Not ‘my face’- no NLB smile or glow today folks. And that’s OK. I’m being authentic and congruent.
And I’m being open with my beloveds (& now with YOU too!). I reached out to my Husband, Caramel Sister & Work Wife, sharing my flatness & asking for prayer. And WOW-the opportunities to receive grace that being honest gave me!! The kindness of loaned headphones so I could be lifted by music-my heart language & salve-as I worked! The perfectly timed deep hug & tearful chat. The food & homemade fairy-cake set aside for me. The gentle, slow-paced meeting with my manager & help from a kind colleague. And the ping of email to tell me of a ‘delivery’ at reception, bringing my first ME smile of the day when I saw the surprise delivery of flowers from my husband to bring a ‘little spark & smile’ to my day.
I’m not out of the emotionally thick woods yet (to mix my sea & land analogies!).
But my heart is not dull. It is warmed. I am so loved and liked just as I am. I have enough energy & contentment for the evening. And my home smells like flowers.
When breath becomes air
and air becomes still
When chest is frozen in breath’s
last exhale
When heart and lungs take their final bow
And exhale your Life
Then…
Like Cinderella’s carriage at midnight
the magic of life runs out
Life becomes a grey-painted wall
Stars which mapped the secrets of the constellations become plastic lightbulbs
and the Sun which lit the roads which led us to
an opened door,
a deep smile and
hugs smelling of
brylcreem and palmolive,
four layer birthday cake
and menus written on scrap envelopes,
twinkling, patient blue eyes and powdery-soft strong hands.
That sun now a broken car boot sale lamp,
faulty switch and bulb too weak to shine any light.
Did you know you were the sun and stars?
Did you know you were our inspiration, …my very air?
Did you know know KNOW
how much I loved you?
Please say yes.
Please
say
something.
Please…
stop being gone.
I generally think regret gets a bad name.
I regret a lot in life: not persevering with learning a language or instrument; not trying harder in school; saying I Love You back when I didn’t mean it (!!); having cheese and crackers tonight after a day of healthy eating; repeatedly going to bed too late, and lots more!
I think the idea that is oh so popular on inspirational Pinterest posters (ugh), that regrets are bad and we should have none just misses the whole point and deep value of regrets! They can be the best motivator and prod us to grow into the people we aspire to be; to be better friends and lovers etc, to improve at work, to save money and take better care of our health etcccc.
Regret isn’t shame.
Shame labels us and makes us stuck.
Regret labels behaviour and moves us forward (well, for me it usually takes a few regrets to get the lesson but hey, it counts!).
Anyway, I was mulling on this recently and this short poem came to mind…
Regret:
The gap between
What you do
Who you are,
And what you want to do
And who you want to be.
Shame:
The gulf between
What you do,
Who you are,
And what other people want you to do
And who others want you to be.
Freedom
Neither wallowing in regret,
Nor ignoring its painful lessons,
Rather striving to do and be
What and who you want to be.
And not letting others’ (imagined?) views hinder your quest.
NLB 3.1.19
Do you ever experience someone saying or doing something really small or simple, but it opens up a WHOLE NEW way of thinking for you? Well thank you Hollie McNish for doing that for me this week!
I read a short poem/sketch she shared and *hey presto*, I’m deconstructing the ‘bases’ of sex and doing some serious musing on virginity. Firstly, she’s absolutely right. The Male Tongue created the language of sex (and I don’t mean in the good way !*).
Why is the pleasure from a hand or tongue, which, when used with consent & consideration, is powerful and rich enough to bring women and men and others to climax deemed ‘fore‘ play? Why not just ‘play’?
Why is virginity ‘lost’ (lost?) when a person’s penis enters another’s vagina? Why not when a person first experiences the releasing pleasure of consensual orgasm with another? Why instead is female virginity bound to men reaching that ‘final’ base where they orgasm inside another? Wait-are lesbians virgins forever?!
Why are those few films which show women receiving one of life’s great pleasures (well, when done right!) rated 18, while scenes of women pleasuring men are just soooo commonplace that’ll just be a 15? (Yep, true fact: Blue Valentine; Ryan Gosling fighting for that scene to be classed R – UK 15- frankly made that film and him even hotter!)
You know why?
Why?
….
Patriarchy.
Patriarchy decided language.
Patriarchy decided rules of sex.
That’s why.
To remake the rules, we have to reclaim and remake language.
So here’s to more playtime for all.
Who’s coming with me? 😉
I’ve been thinking of late about love & forgiveness & voila, this poem came to me. It’s only after I’d finished it that I called to mind the wiser, more beautiful words of Kahlil Gibran ‘On Love’ in The Prophet so after you’re read my words, do read The Master’s!
Image: GKids
What is it to choose love
when that love may bring harm and hurt?
What is it to take risks with one’s heart, trusting that after hurt,
it will be repaired, as always,
by the eternal love of God,
and the deep resilience within?
What is it to say ‘this is worth it’,
and step forward in search of beauty,
knowing one may instead find
devouring ugliness?
What is it when the tie that binds
may also be that which chokes;
when the love which shatters
is from they who are meant to heal?
It Is
to recognise that,
your breath doesn’t come from another,
So they can’t choke it.
It Is
to understand that,
your worth is rooted in the foundations
of the universe,
So they can’t shake it.
And It Is
to recognise that,
that beautiful love
which made you giggle
on sunny days and in the rain,
which made you
know
Know
KNOW
You. Are. Truly. Loved.
(yet disposable),
comes from a broken human.
So,
in courage,
extend your own hand to love,
both hopeful and wary,
of deep laughter,
and sharp edges,
Trusting that,
whatever comes,
love’s brokenness
will not break you.
Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet: On Love
