This was one of my favorite shows, and that's saying a lot. When Krista asked why we find it so difficult to be with things as they are and Marie replied "...it's because they hurt," the truth of that sank deeply into me. I've wanted to offer something to your show for a long time, and today I wrote the following poem which feels related to the resonances of Marie's words. I hope you enjoy.
We feel the threads of love,and they pull us,and sometimes we become so entangledas to lose the feelof whatever we're weaving alltogether.
But there is promise in their tension,promise in the sensation of resistance we feelbetween life as-it-isand the murmured hummingsour love-threads tremble into our skinas they wrap around our body.
That tension is potentiality,transmuted into kinetic becomingeverytime we take a stepin love's direction.
As we dance with our threads -as their hum is ignored or invited,their insistence rejected or responded to -let us become conscious of our choosings and trust,if we have chosen love,in the time it takesfor tension to play itself out.
Perhaps we don't move at allbut simply grow into master-weavers,incorporating love's every suggestioninto a new component of our cardigan,turtleneck, leg warmer, or nana blanket...for these movements of the heart,as grand as we may try to make them sound,are everyday ordinaryand require no dramatic upheaval of self.
Unless they do.
As alwaysit's 'yes-and,'and it's aboutwhat's happening right now.
Right now,faith is happening.Right now I choose to believethat through dawning self-acceptanceand patient application of truth,what lives within mewill find expressionin our shared reality.
Right nowthere is a stillness of perceptionwhich has invited the otherwise fleeting momentsof a work-seeking Wednesdayto fully arrive and meet me hereand the majesty of simple, inconsequential thingsquite takes my breath away.
Right now,it cannot be otherwiseand any moment,allowed deeply enough,must throb with the same selfless love of this moment,which brings tears to my eyes,and silence to my pen.
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