Categories
Life

Soft

It’s funny. To think of the damage caused by cultural norms and stereotypes.

Of course, there are the absolutely beautiful cultural narratives out there. Those that cherish and honour human life by holding it, by respecting it so beautifully that even the hardest of hearts must surely be touched by the story of it all.

I heard a story as beautiful, just the other day. My counsellor told it to me: how, in her culture, when a woman becomes pregnant, she becomes the queen. The whole tribe lavish her with love, care, and most importantly, perhaps…food.

This discussion came about after a lovely tender moment where she looked over at me, my bulging belly sweetly growing a perfect little gift, and offered to bake me something lovely to celebrate the occasion (that’s right, surprise, I’m fourteen weeks pregnant. And how lovely it is, to me. How lovely it is. xx)

But, I digress. Because although there are some absolutely beautiful cultural stories passed on by certain cultures in the world, other cultures do not even realise their own toxicity. (And when I say toxicity, what I mean is…truly, their cultural ideas are heartbreaking and damaging to individuals who do not fit into the selected story being told.)

There are some absolutely wonderful things to be said about the culture I was born into. But one arm of the narrative, an arm that destroyed any hope of me developing healthy self-esteem in my early years, was the idea that vulnerability and softness were somehow character flaws. I was mostly soft.

As it turns out, this soft part of me, this sensitivity, is my super power; a power that helps me soothe, and bring safety to those who need it. A power that helps me tap into the world of everything and nothing, and pull down the words and creativity needed for my writing to touch people in the way that it seems to.

But my culture called me ‘soft’. It told me to ‘harden up’, and it assumed that If I didn’t…then surely I must be broken, at worst. Naive at best. Never have I been these labels.

And if you are a deep and tender heart resonating with these words…never have you been these labels, either.

Always we’ve been perfect.

Just the way we are.

Think of the trillions of flowers, plants and trees out there. Some are soft. Some are hard, shrubs built to last in the wind and rain and hail. None of them judge each other for being ‘wrong’ in anyway. They simply exist.

And so do I.

So do we.

Photo by Brianna Martinez on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Wonderful, Wonderful

They didn’t understand her,

but they allowed her

just to be.

And that,

she knew,

was a wonderful, wonderful

wonder.

Categories
Fable

Until They Remembered

Sun fell upon the rocky shore, gazing at the children that played by the rock pools.

Some of the children splashed.

Some worked quietly together, laying stone upon stone until they’d made a grand and sparkling tower.

Other children jumped star shaped into the ocean, not a care in the world, not an opportunity missed.

Sun shone upon them all.

Never once wondering which was worthy of day shine.

Never once seeing their differences as faults.

The children looked at each other just the way sun did.

And then they grew up.

And forgot.

Until they remembered again.

Categories
Poetry

If I Must

This train.

It is a train that fights abuse

by abusing abusers,

and I do not understand it,

my heart.

It does not understand.

They tell me I must fight,

I must fight,

I must fight.

But I will not fight.

I will know myself,

I will love myself

(imperfectly)

and I will remember

I have the strength to shine

beyond it all.

And I will shine.

Above the train,

whenever I can,

alone,

if I must.

Categories
Poetry

As She Will

The sun is one

but never can shine

as one.

Her rays will splay,

and always touch the world

(in slices)

as they do.

How they splay

is a question for each new moment.

Who they will touch,

and in what way:

undiscovered.

The sun will shine as she will.

The sun will always shine

as she will.

Categories
Poetry

A Quiet Day

Today my heart is quiet.

And it knows deeply

that it has lived.

Categories
Inspiration

Be You

Shine, my sweet bloggy family.

Always be you.

In all your flawed magnificence.

open.spotify.com/track/1haQRuZnoggW6U6l5jFIj9

Categories
Inspiration

The Apple Tree Of Everything

This is the Apple Tree of Everything.

You may pick only one apple, today.

Hold it in your hand.

Look at it.

Really, look at this apple you have picked.

To say it is red is hardly enough.

There are black porous dots, scattered and bunched.

A deep red jacket of smooth and lumps— there is even a bruise.

This is your apple of the day.

Yours because you have picked it.

It is not perfect, but none of the apples on the tree are perfect.

For what is perfect when different is the only sameness the tree can offer.

This apple of yours is far from the ordinary you see.

And it is yours.

How completely beautiful.

green tree photo
Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

Pitchfork

Yes, you could judge them.

But if I were you,

I would breathe first.

Would you like to be judged

for being

just the way that you are

because you are that way?

To judge another

is to place shame

in your own hands.

This I have learned,

and continue to learn,

the hard way.

One day, I will 

be free.

And so will those

I continue to judge.

person wearing black top
Photo by fotografierende on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

Soft, Quiet, Beautiful

Can we become the peace

that glistens on the ledge of our differences?

Or will it be war swept under the carpet

for yet another age of humanity?

I see your needs. Do you see mine?

Can we surrender to the chaos

of boundless perspective?

Can we be soft,

quiet,

beautiful,

life?