Day 24
Spaces and pauses
I took up a 100 day writing challenge with my friends, and so far I am noticing the gaps between writing as much as practicing the writing. The last two weeks words have been coming but the space to write has not always been possible.
A couple of things I have learnt recently (through conversations with people like Sue Heatherington) is that the poems I am in conversation with have different ways of being. Some poems are to be read, others are to be listened to as meditative, embodied journeys, and one this week came out as a song/lament, which initially I shared with a few people and then deleted it as it asked to be gathered back in.
Some poems like to be shared, and others are deeply personal rituals that speak with the ancestors. Poems can arise and float away in moments as language speaking to the unnamed feelings stored in the body process themselves in timely ways.
This week I spent 40 minutes in the Bath drumming a song to the maternal ancestors in my imagination as part of my prep for this weeks test conversational on mother lines with fellow family constellations practitioners.
As autumn moves into winter, I am finding myself drawn to walking around the local parks and allowing myself the experience of being rained on by the remaining leaves of the trees resting for winter.
Poem
Make room,
For all the things that need space,
To turn themselves around,
For fresh perspective.
Sometimes in our doing,
We keep to our fated beginnings,
Where no story that could make a difference,
Can reach us.
The work of undoing,
Becoming the generational turning point,
The explicit quiet movement,
Of every souls inclusion.
Welcoming the resolve succeeding rage,
The flow of movement following grief,
The immensely soft power in the wake of fear,
The humble growth of unfurling wisdom in the unmasking of innocence.
More often than not our work is to just step aside,
Get out of the way of our truer north,
That which requires us to navigate towards,
the under walked bearing beneath the noise.
So make room.
Every day a little bit of space,
For the helpful, healing and nourishing stories,
Found in the longer view of recurring autumn cycles of slow endings.