As I grow older

Less precious and less sensitive is perhaps an okay way

I release my clinging to the sensitivity that served me years previous

It is time to trust my discernment

To trust that honesty and unkindness are different

That I value one more than the other

To trust the heart that beats in me

We do the best we can until we know better

We trust the stories we hear until we know for ourselves that there are no singular truths

That stories need to be lived

through the limbs and ears

There is no script

I tell myself over and over

There is no story laid out there is no plan

I tell myself over and over

I embrace the forgiveness that comes with this age of mine

How silly to call it mine, though

This space age time I inhabit

Is there always war? And drinking to forget?

Are we going in circles without aim?

Are there always aimless circles?

Is there always wishing for paradise?

For how long can I fight nature?

And then for how long can I accept less than what I want?

And what of deserving, then?

I forgive myself for all there is left to know

I hope to seek and to know

Forgiveness, this season, looks like a marriage of the masculine and feminine

Expansion when there is space to inhabit

Contraction when I have outgrown the boundaries of this here scarred skin

Rest when I tire

Action as sparks fly

I call in forgiveness when the wanting whispers

Shoulds and should nots

For I am wild

For I am animal

This divine softness chases its tail

Swallows itself whole

Forgiveness lives at this juncture

A light existence

Luminous, yes

And gentle

Not heavy, not so tied

Without baggage

Agile and balanced

Everything to gain and nothing to lose

Everything to give and nothing to take

No ideology too righteous

No notes to sell

Me and my light heart

And my commitment to truth and change

And change as ultimate truth

To this closing loop and beyond

Ease cannot be found everywhere

Because I am not entitled to ease in all things

Some stories are difficult to hear

I fall to no fear

I carry the burden

While there are stories hard to watch

I watch those worth the effort

Discernment

Forgiveness

And Luck

Turn and run if it will save your life

Stay and fight if you like your odds

Trust that the You who is Her who lands face-to-face with the next beast around the bend

Knows the next right thing

To question her is to waste time and energy

With each drumbeat

Release the doubt, grateful

With each swingstep

Drink in your knowing, confident

Questions for the upcoming circle —

Is there a place for pride?

I look to the lions

What are your beliefs? Those claims you make whose only argument is “just because” ? Do those foundations make up my core? Or does each float as one balloon, isolated and flimsily unsupported?

The devout Christian’s “just because”surely differs from the cynic’s; for some, faith is ground zero, the well from which all else is sprung. For others, though, just because is a dead-end, an unacceptable loss, a signpost to turn back to the drawing board, clear as day.

Practice and more practice and more practice

I thank Goodness for the practice, the opportunities to fail and practice and fail and practice and perform and fail and practice more

Luckiest woman alive

Until I’m not anymore

Back to the drawing board?