The Journey Inward

May you fall into your own arms.
May you speak the words you need to hear.
May you have gratitude with each breath.
May you build your dreams with faith. 
May you embrace your soul with kindness.
May you bring wisdom from your past.
May you choose peace instead of anger. 
May you see the light in your darkest night. 
May you stumble upon yourself when lost. 
May you uncover courage beneath these fears. 
May you accept mistakes with humility. 
May you practice forgiveness to heal wounds. 
May you see the beauty of your imperfections. 
May you find love within your own heart.
                         ~Dodinski

A beautiful poem/prayer/manifest/mantra as I woke full of fear, outrage, and anger (none of whose shades of meaning are strong enough to accurately describe my feelings) today.  As I walked yesterday, I kept reciting the final line of Martin Niemoller's poem:  "Then they came for me-and there was no one left to speak for me."  The white middle and upper classes are now feeling the effects of lawlessness and lack of humanity that people of this nation and world have felt for their whole existence.  I am weighed down, burdened, afraid, helpless and hopeless as I listen to story after story of people's situations, from job loss to deportation to hate to violence. 

I don't know how to help or what to do, but I know that sticking my head in the sand is not the answer.  And so I seek out reliable sources for information, I process the news with my oldest daughter and several friends, I discuss with those who are open minded, I look for protests and marches to attend, I write my representatives, I support voices who are speaking peace and humanity, and I pray a lot.  

I thought about abandoning this little February project of mine, reading a poem a day and writing about it.  It seems so inconsequential, so tone deaf, so insensitive, so unimportant.  But at the same time, I've got to keep seeking hope and joy for sustenance.  This is one small act that can renew my source so that I can go out into the world each day and search for ways to make a difference. 

And so, I fall into my own arms at the end of each day, exhausted but fulfilled in my efforts to make a difference.  I wrap myself in tenderness and comfort.

I speak the words I need to hear, such as You are a loyal friend, a connected family member, a loving mom, a caring teacher, an active community member.  You are warm, compassionate, empathetic, and kind. 

I have gratitude for my life and all the people in it and for those who fight every day for a peaceful world where each person can live freely and openly.

I am building my dreams each day with the people around me, with faith that Good will triumph.

I embrace my soul with gentleness, nurturing my weariness.

I bring wisdom from my past, making me compassionate, teaching me new ways to show up, rewiring old thinking and responses, and holding myself accountable when I hurt others.

I choose peace, letting go of what I can't control, letting others do what they need to do, and grounding myself.  I am trying to work with my genuine and appropriate anger over the treatment of our nation's people.

I am always on the lookout for the light in these dark times.

I stumble upon myself time and time again when I am lost; "I am out with lanterns looking for myself" in the words of Emily Dickinson.

I am uncovering courage beneath my fears by simply facing them and showing up.

I accept my mistakes with humility, knowing I am a mere mortal, an imperfect human, and understand so very little.

I practice self forgiveness to heal my wounds.

I see the beauty in my imperfections~those traits, qualities, flaws and even defects that make my story unique.

And I find an abundance of love within my own heart.

Each day this month, I am reading and writing about an entry from gentle reminders:  SIMPLE TRUTHS FOR A MEANINGFUL LIFE by Dodinsky.  This book was given to me after my divorce by a friend, with this inscription: "Let your soul sparkle."  

Reference: 'First They Came':   The Poem of Protest by Martin Niemoller:  First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out -Because I was not a Socialist. Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out - Because I was not a Trade Unionist.  Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out-Because I was not a Jew.  Then they came for me-and there was no one left to speak for me.   

Photo:  Cabbagetown, Atlanta, GA.  11.8.24 by LA