It’s 2am. The phone screen lights up your face as you lie scrolling in bed. Has it been 2 hours? 3? You know you’ll pay for this tomorrow and you only have a few hours until you have to be up for work. But you keep going, still feeling unsatisfied. It’s been a bad day…
When I first read this poem by Danielle Doby I immediately cried. The words felt like home…it put a voice to something that I had felt inside me for so long but could not name.
I used to hold a lot of shame around the part of me that felt like a “late bloomer”. Now I feel so much gratitude for the meandering path my heart has taken to create this sweet little life that is beginning holding all of me.
-Christy Lochary
Words from Mary Oliver’s poem, Wild Geese. My heart wants to read these words over and over this week. These past few months the busy part of myself has been showing up. And I can feel my body calling for rest, a reminder that I am a part of this wonderful wild earth and it’s ok to be still.
-Christy
I am imperfect…
a work in progress…
a fresh start every day.
I am already full of life,
and seeking definition and clarity…
Hello Resistant Part
I have a Resistant Part of myself. When I meditate on it, this part seems as if it’s as old as dirt…that it has been with me most of my life protecting me from experiencing stories that my brain has deemed unsafe in the past…
Weight. On my soul, my eyes, on my body. So much weight. It feels hard to move. Stuck in the muck of life. Rooted in the ‘not enough part’. Not enough, so must consume and consume and consume, everything. Too much, too many, too, too, too. Heavy. Is it loving to write these words? To…
I am here because… I want to love me. I want to love life… even the parts I don’t want. I want to accept that I will never be done trying to love all the parts. This is not a fight to the death… and it also is. And I see I am not alone,…
My heart is a voyager Feeling the unknown like a tide Feeling the pulse and pull She sails the high seas Through ups and downs Calm and storm She calls them waves and rides them as they appear My dear heart She moves toward the dark The depth The beasts At the same time she…
I had dinner with a friend the other night in this delectable Argentinian restaurant in downtown Denver and she tells me she is writing a book about YOU. She explains that it must be about YOU, because that word needs to be redefined since most people don’t understand it. As I sit listening to her…
