A little poem I wrote in Decemeber...
Inside me
there is a bowl of light,
a quiet room,
a soft-breathing home
that grows each time I stay.
Every feeling
is a visitor at the threshold;
Fear wrapped in morning fog,
Panic with its trembling hands,
Joy rushing in with its bare feet
still dripping with sunlight.
And the home within me
does not choose between these visitors.
It opens its door
and widens.
And widens more, still.
Here, nothing must be conquered.
Nothing must be figured out.
I am teaching my nervous system
the timeless skill
of holding without collapsing,
of feeling without becoming enmeshed.
I am touching the energy that my mind calls terror
without being pulled into its story.
Every time I stay with intention,
my container grows.
The safety that has no opposite reveals itself even more.
And the light inside
learns one simple truth:
All human experience belongs.
All internal sensations and emotions are welcome.
The ones that have been rejected for generations
Are now seen through the lens of TRUTH.
They were never what I believed them to be.
They were always Life and Love
in the temporary form of a story that my mind learned.
Innocently.
And now they are free to come home
To be integrated, welcomed, and held in the warmth of safety.