On Acceptance

Accept EVERYthing wholly.

Only in the present moment.

Never Ever Forever.

Then

CHANGE IT!

P.S. Happy Yoga Day! May this day inspire moments of awareness for you.

Do I have a personality?

Do I have a personality?
I grew up feeling none.
I kept wanting one.

I saw some as persons happy
But I felt lot of thoughts unhappy
I saw some as being persons assured
But I felt unsure of what really mattered
I saw some as being persons positive
But I felt I needed lot more perspective
I saw some wearing their wealth on them
And I felt the need to become abundant
I saw some wearing their success on them
But I felt I really wish I had a passion
I sought to be truthfully joyful
But I felt lot of things to be untruthful

I simply only wanted my own personality
Yet I tried every which way to fit in
Also learned some tricks to blend in
Wherever I Be I became that one
Except it became difficult to keep up

Do I have a personality?
Now supposedly a grown-up
I am not sure I have one

A new friend in conversation
In complete awe of my hard-core choices
Called me in myself an institution
And visiting me a few days later
Found me a sobbing mess of confusion
Befuddled she told me
“Never imagined You could become this”
I confided in her honestly
I needed the friend in her
As much as she used the one in me.
She probed further if I had ever cried
For those times such and such
I said yes I did
When at times I became human as much

This kind friend then exhorted me
That I should be wearing all that I am
And walk out in the world head held high
Gain some confidence and personality

Veracity in the moment doesn’t allow me
To wear anything external on me
I am that I am and I wonder what I am
I live in an attempt of absolute integrity
In all the roles that can be called of me
I show up with confidence or confusion
It is me in that moment feeling fluidly
The only corrugation is of my intention

So now do I have a personality?
You tell me which one you see in me
So do I need a personality?
Or I could just Be what I have come to Be.

 

P.S. Dear Debbie, I gladly contribute this poem to ForgivingFridays, as a gesture of forgiveness for everywhere we judge ourselves for what we are. Thank you for being here.

 

Just how did the writer in me get born?

When drippings from a touched soul find their way in writing
A poet is born

When the beauty is undying and the joy so fulfilling
A poem is born

When feelings are heart wrenching and clarity is killing
A poem is born

When a surge comes as discomfort and words pour out
A writer is born

When the harmony felt is such that there is no choice but rhyme
A poem is born

When made-up words bring meaning and no-rhyme verse feels musical
A poetry is born

When living alive to feelings, words come to life
A writer is born

When clarity becomes more intense than the pain that afforded it
A writer is born

When no human around can suffice to contain the expression
A poetry is born

When a release is looking to flow out at an unearthly hour
A writer is born

When words choose the person as if a channel
A writer is born

When none can be planned to rhyme or reason
A poet is born

When human spirit gets broken to million-times-ten pieces, yet finds beauty
A poet is born

When Life decides to peel back layers of truth down to the core
A writer is born

When each level of façade is stripped down to bare soul
A writer is born

When all the suffering was a gift, lived through or let through
A writer is born

When there is no knowing if there is more from where it came from
A writer is reborn

When it comes from a place that is hard to own
A writer is born

When the essence of being is wrung out in best expression
A poetry is born

When it feels like a soft glove over the brutal thing
A poetry is born

When the loneliness in truthfulness is more than can enjoy yet
A writer is born

When inspirations come out of nowhere as if universal cues
A poet is born

Every story a writer writes may not be the writer’s story
But then the writer lives within herself
A thousand lives or the stories of lifetimes
Often that of all of humankind

So if you can just rest
In the drippings of the writers’s soul
Momentarily let go off the sufferings you insist on
A writer would feel content for being born.