Our souls long for us, they call to us. How do we respond to this call? By listening to our imagination, to the art within, honoring the creativity we all possess, freeing our truth and coming to rest in our soul, fully here and fully welcome.
I've been on a journey of discovery for most of my life. Seeking. Seeking to understand my place and purpose. Seeking to discover connection and meaning. Seeking to find home. Living into my longings and sometimes feeling frustrated with those longings.
I followed bad advice offered by our consumer, rugged individualist, compete for scarcity, live in fear, isolate yourself culture. This bad advice did not give me the solace, home and wholeness my soul longed for. Following the fear, following the service to the wrong god has made me small and miserable.
Now I say, "No More!" Our souls are so much larger than the anesthetizing advertisements, gossip and latest shiny new gadget served up and beamed directly into our brains. We were meant to dance and sing, tell wild stories and sit in absolute stunned awe in front of a tree or sunset. We were formed from the one to realize we are one, in community, connected, interdependent, when-I-am-cut-you-bleed kind of existence, not in fear of each other, not in fear of our own brilliance, beauty and artistry.
So I am dedicated to "Setting the Truth Free", the truth inside of all of us, the truth of our artistry, our poetry, our dance. All glorious expressions of who we are. We are not a "resource" to be "consumed", we are not here because we generate monetary value or are tolerated because we perform someone else's bidding. We are here to connect, we matter just as who we are, we are far more than the stories we carry, stories formed when trauma assaulted our tender selves. So shed the stories, the defensive layers and set your truth free. You are beautiful and loved.
I'm talking to you!
Long into the night
and still long to the dawn
Past the parade of losses
and betrayals of self
wrought of service to the wrong god.
Awoken from a fitful slumber
bathed in regret and remorse.
A protest profound arises
deep within my grief.
A holy howl
screaming at the thief.
Hey! I'm talking to you!
Yes, you, in the corner,
slinking and smirking.
You, who kept me down all these years.
You, who gave me crumbs
and told me it was a life.
This is not my life!
This is insecurity,
I'm sorry if I offended thee.
This is grovel and hovel.
that will keep you safe and sound.
You broke into my house
and rearranged all the furniture.
You stole my childhood
and made me a caricature.
Hey! I'm talking to you!
I want my life back.
Not this check and double check,
doubt and re-doubt.
Me, the nice guy with no backbone.
Me, the nice guy who doesn't even know if he wants Mexican or Chinese.
(mmm, I don't know, what do you want?)
Me, the noble, beautiful, kind man
who only sees ugliness and embarrassment in your mirror.
I have given away too much.
I have lain down deep in despair.
I have - almost - given up hope.
But, you have not won yet.
Right now, I'm calling you out.
I am not ready to die
in a house decorated by someone else.