This comes from the book: Ensouling Language by Stephen Harrod Buhner.
Directions: Choose 5 deeply meaningful words, ones that approximate the center of who you are and evoke emotive content for you. Write them down. Any words will do--as long as they are meaningful to you.
Example. Earth, Stone, Green, Leaves, Plants.
Or another. Love, Happiness, Child, Wandering, Hope.
Here was my list: Soul, Compassion, Creativity, Healing, Intuition.
Do this part of the exercise now without reading the rest of the directions...
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Next. "Write five poems, each of which uses all five of the words. You can use as many other words as you want, nevertheless each poem must contain all five of the words you have chosen. Take as much time as you need..."
When done, read the poems in sequence. You might be amazed by what comes out. Here are all five of mine in order...
One
the soul of healing
grabs intuition
and holds on
birthing compassion
creativity's apex.
Two
intuition speaks from soul
breathing with compassion
creating a healing force
magical enough
that few believe its existence.
Three
the real trick in life
is ferreting out compassion
from soul
when poured empty
and used up.
creativity wanders in
searching for healing intuition
that has sporified
in order to survive.
Four
living the soul's creativity
heals the parts of
intuition, wounded by those
that sacrifice
compassion on pain's altar.
Five
healing
pilgrimage of creativity
to soul's center.
seeking out
bits that keep us human.
splinters
most wanting of compassion.
the inward glance
pains.
but, in the stumbling dark
intuition
holds our hand.
Relationships are like onions. Chopping an onion renders it chemically reactive. Aromatic compounds burn the eyes, inducing the flow of tears. When the volatility is too much, you have to part ways from the Onion, leaving the room. Sometimes, you have to part ways from your Other. This blog is my perspective on my own leave taking from a chemically reactive relationship with a narcissist. Read on if you are not afraid of words that may chop, cut, or react with your lachrimal ducts.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Monday, March 2, 2015
the Gym
Eyes on the floor, headphones on the ears, I hide out in the open, protected by my walls of being focused, aloof. They know not of lies and narcissists and webs and gaslighting. They touch not the holes in walls or pocketbooks or hearts. They feel not the anguished face of my child. They see not the ugliness of it all.
They know me only by my routine and my outward appearances of being strong. They see my training rituals aimed at remaining in the camp of the sane. They see how my invisibility cloak pulls me skyward, over the bar and back again, masking my inner weaknesses.
Here, in this space, I am capable, maybe even strong.
They know me only by my routine and my outward appearances of being strong. They see my training rituals aimed at remaining in the camp of the sane. They see how my invisibility cloak pulls me skyward, over the bar and back again, masking my inner weaknesses.
Here, in this space, I am capable, maybe even strong.
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