Tag: parts

  • You Can’t force your Jigsaw  (But do open the box)

    You Can’t force your Jigsaw (But do open the box)

    Each of us has bits of us that we dont really like. Theres the bits of us that got damaged by our parents or family when we grew up, whether this was abuse, neglect, abandonment, the choices of our parents and the hurts of these. Theres the bits of us in school, the parts where we adapted, the parts of us that we’re wounded, hurt. Theres the parts of us that we’d rather not talk about in polite company, the parts of us that turned to sex or drugs or alcohol or something other to soothe the pain, or the parts of us that hid away, the parts of us that acted in fear, anxiety, acted in vengeance and transferred inner anger from parents or jobs, onto partners, children or pets. Theres the parts of us that made choices when in survival mode, choices to be busy, choices to give to others from neediness, choices to take advantage of others, choices not to view another persons dignity and humanity, only as a service t our own. Then theres choices and actions in denial, to run away from dealing with the pain, to avoid it, to hide it.

    We all have them.

    Your pain might feel huge. But you are definitely not alone.

    All making our heart, our mind, our bodies…feel not quite right, or very quite wrong, or just stuck, or weary…

    All with a root of shame, or guilt or anger.

    And we would rather not go there.

    Then theres that inner voice that accompanies them all.

    Shame, Loathing, Guilt, Perfectionism, Control, Fear… all protecting the parts, all making a good argument for ‘not going there’ .

    And so often the morality we encounter – the shame of what we encountered, or what we did, or what we didnt do, who we hurt… feels too much to accept, feels too much to be able to get real about.

    We’d rather hide than face the truth

    We’d rather mask and hide than go there.

    We’d rather continue on, with that ache inside, than give light and warmth to a state of being thats hurting ourselves and others, yet its doing exactly that, and we’re spinning out of control.

    ‘So often… Morality is the Enemy of Growth’ (John O Donohue)

    The moral obligation to look good

    The moral obligation to be strong

    The moral obligation to ‘battle’ through darkness (or sin)

    The moral obligation to not feel shame, is to not feel anything.

    Yet, as a result that ache and pain haunts like a shadow, becoming more and more entrenched when challenged.

    I know. I didnt want to go there. Trying to keep a status quo whilst dying inside and running away from the pain, and the shame of what I was doing to soothe it. Until I cracked between it all, and lost everything, and yet…. realised that when everything was lost, I found something much more precious… eventually.

    Because those parts of us we’d rather hide are like parts of a jigsaw, and along with our hearts, our minds and bodies, theres fragmentation and fracturing within, caused by all the damage, to us and by us.

    And jigsaws, especially those with brittle edge pieces dont fit or mould together with force. Like trying to get two cuttlefish pieces to interlock.

    Friend. It isnt an inner battle you have to win.

    Battles are for armies.

    It isnt a war on the inside between the parts, even if they are raging, and making a noise. Their voice is often so loud.

    Your wounded parts are part of you, but they aren’t you.

    You hold the blow torch.

    Your heart is the gas.

    Love is the flame.

    And your parts and their raw, pained, rugged edges, mould together not with force, but with love, love that powers, love that emirates, love that emerges from your heart….once you finally, surrender, accept and listen to its call. Love from within resolves fractures and pain. Its warmth that melts the edges and aligns them into your soul and heart, its love that unifies your fractures and fragments, Its love that brings wholeness.

    Being a friend to the parts of you, the shame of your past that you’d rather not admit to, is a path marked with the deepest, most passionate and erotic love you can imagine, making love to your inner parts, melting their pain away with tenderness that is possible, even if thats new.

    Pain leaves with tears, leaves in a warm car, on the road to your own soul, to be met with harmony and kindness.

    The darkness you’re doing a battle with, in that tough man masculine way, won’t leave until you and your armour back down, and instead surrender to heat, light and love, and yes, that means losing control.

    But right now your pieces feel all over the places and control is an illusion anyway, shards of temporary colour disconnected, carried in a box that doesn’t want to be opened.

    Dare you lovingly open the lid…. and may love guide you in the integration of your whole, melting, welding, searing and bringing you to a harmony within, harmony your soul is already grasping for in the moments of pain you’re trying to hide.

  • The Wild Path

    With the love of new companions

    Angels that found me and a loving self

    I go

    To

    The wild path.

    Step out onto its mysterious threshold

    hurting, pained, afraid

    The first act of love

    To walk the wild path

    Alone, but not alone.

    Stones reveal their shapes

    Masking my pain.

    Unable to feel,

    their jagged shapes,

    Cuts my feet, brushed off as nothing.

    Walking the wild path,

    In blind hope

    More that expectation.

    The wild path,

    Awakening the wild one within.

    Wild,

    Daunting,

    Wild,

    Where unpredictable thorns tire each step,

    Where danger seems to lurk,

    Wild, for it doesn’t seem to end.

    Wild,

    Yet,

    On that path, feeling mysteriously held

    Where vulnerability to walk is met

    hand in hand with the awakening of heart.

    Walking the wild path

    held by an invisible chord

    that becomes a friend.

    A chord laid by angels

    Angels webbing

    Shining, dangling, hoping in the darkness

    Wild path

    The call, the chord, the mystery

    Wild path promises.

    The wild path.

    Alone.

    Facing the elements

    Clinging, unsure, fighting

    Only the wild path.

    I have to go.

    I have to stay on it.

    I have to do this by myself.

    I have to cling on.

    I have to believe.

    I have to believe in a love so strong.

    That has hidden itself for so long,

    Its Mine.

    Mine to face.

    Mine to receive.

    Mine to feel held,

    by that angel string

    and grow.

    I walk, alone, along

    The wild path

    Where anxiety and dreams go hand in hand

    Where I find

    That I find

    and face,

    The demons I once avoided.

    The shadows

    and the bridge of haunted memories,

    the caves of cravings.

    I walk, I have to walk

    towards them

    with love

    and know that everything I need is on the path.

    There is nothing else.

    Even if I feel

    I can’t do this,

    I can’t face this,

    I don’t want to face that shame any more,

    I don’t want to,

    I don’t want to go there.

    But

    I have to.

    I just do.

    The wild path takes me there

    The wild path

    leads me straight to that door

    to that cave

    to that space

    where I have to

    I have to walk

    and can do nothing more

    than

    follow the angel thread

    and follow the angel heart

    and face the strange parts on the wild path

    with love.

    Angels meeting me in their light.

    Angels grace the path with love.

    Angels help my heart to grow.

    Angels and me,

    walking the wild path.

    Walking the wild path

    Alone, but with love.

    Walking the wild path

    Love, making me brave enough to go.

    Taken by an invisible chord

    To take me back to myself

    All along.