Dear Miracle

Setting free the beautiful truth inside.


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Before the Smoldering Turns Cold

smoldering roseBefore the passion in me dies,

while I can still breathe and inhale

the sweetness of jasmine in spring and

feel the ocean pouring between my toes,

I want to stand in the small gulf of your arms

and know heaven in my soul.

I want to feel your warm skin pressed

against mine and breathe together in time.

 

And when I’m looking off into forever,

your adoring kisses at my neck

will to my senses bring me back.

With just a look you heal me—

you love me, and I am made whole.

 

So for this, while I live,

while we have this briefest encounter in time without end,

while the fire burns still within our souls,

and before the smoldering turns cold,

I will look in your eyes at this moment in time

and let myself be loved by you again and again.

 

Shoshana Wolfington

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Thank You, But No

13173662_10206536769525587_8058892534481363848_nI am learning I can say no.

It’s not always easy when you’re learning,

when the birthing of your own worthiness

is still so fresh with pain.

 

You have to keep saying no loud enough until you hear yourself.

 

I am learning to stand by my no’s, by what nourishes my own soul—

by the NO that has my back, knows best what is for me and what is not.

I am learning it’s okay to be quiet when there is nothing more to say,

when I have already spoken,

when I have paid careful attention, said what I mean

and mean what I say.

 

Because another discounts my no,

does not mean that I don’t count.

Both of us in the same classroom as I learn to stand by what I have said

and they learn to hear my no.

 

And just a single no can stand on its own—

just a simple thank you, but no—or because I said so.

I am learning it’s quite okay to have momentary confusion or

temptation to say yes without actually doing so.

It’s okay to sit with it for however long it takes until the thing is done.

Even though it hurts for a while, even though those old feelings rise up,

I know everyone is hurt

when I say yes but mean no.

 

Shoshana Wolfington

 


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Reckoning with Spring

ReckoningWithSpring3I’m leaving.

While all over town cherry blossoms

are in a pink uprising—stampeding the senses

of unsuspecting ones merely trying to mind their own business.

And dogwoods are holding on to their fat little white fists, shaking

them in the wind at anyone who might notice them.

Everything says stay, don’t go and

a thousand heavy sighs escape me at every

up and coming branch that tries to halt me from my

appointed task—a final reckoning with what it will cost to leave.

Goodbye sweet trees.

Goodbye greening leaves.

Goodbye the whistling chorus out my kitchen window

—the geese coming home.

It’s not that I’m gone forever—

just long enough to miss this spring and all its terrible beauty.

I’m already full of melancholy

and I’m not even gone.

© 2015  ~  Shoshana Wolfington


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The Way of Angels

forest-river-646x433
  I am a river sluicing past canyon walls,

  splashing at the bends before 

  settling down again.

  Little whitecaps belie the deep undertow

 of quiet and knowing repose

  rushing through my belly below.

And following a predestined path set before

over a million years and more,

I do not hammer or drive into the stone 

at my side—it is with instinctive ease

that I bend and twist and glide.

I have no need to resist what lies ahead

as I wash on by.

Let the howling winds chip away the stone,

let the rain drive a wider channel—

 I am going the way of angels.

 

© 1997 Shoshana Wolfington


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2014 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 1,700 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 28 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.


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Everything Is Okay

Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.” ~~Lao Tzu

I am over it–I’m throwiPhoto by S. Wolfingtonng out my “Goo-B-Gone” in exchange for authenticity, giving up the sanitized version of myself for a more authentic me. Me with all my messiness, my pain and my outrageous laughter.

This is not to say I don’t still sometimes dig through the trash for that stuff in a moment of panicked meltdown. But the general theme of showing up as myself is having its way against my compulsive need to look strong for everyone. I am finding freedom in asking for help, in admitting my vulnerability.

It’s heady stuff, exhilarating when you finally begin to let the truth of yourself out.

It’s taken me awhile to get here after much grief and loss, and I’m not about to throw away all this hard work in order to look good for a lot of people that don’t really care because they are too busy worrying about how good they smell or how well they clean up.

I have given up my dreams of reaching total enlightenment or perfection in this lifetime and have decided to go out and live. If I have to fall down, that’s okay—let my life be worse or better than I could ever have imagined.

I’ve spent too many years believing certain things are fixed or healed and put away for good. These are just silly notions I’ve entertained. I have come to realize that I am at my best when I am broken wide open to both myself and others; and that because of the brokenness, there are far vista-ed rooms that wait for me, things within them I could never have conceived of on my own. It’s not that I go out looking for it. It has a way of finding me when I’m least expecting it. Wait long enough, it will come around. Life can be really surprising on both ends of the spectrum.

What I have often thought of as healed or finished so often returns for another day of reckoning, another layer of awareness in order to enter into wholeness, to make you ready for certain gifts that are waiting in the wings to enter your life.

I know my perception of how things are is limited by my stoicism, my blind faith, my rigidity, the wounds that live inside me. It is only by becoming soft inside, by allowing life to do its best work on me, and my eventual surrender to the whole beautiful world living inside my beingness that I am given the password to enter the sacred expanse of rooms or realms beyond anything I knew existed. Openness is where the sweetest of grace sweeps in. Brokenness is where it can find me, where I tumble down to my knees in gratitude for this one moment of pure release, knowing I am seen.

Pain is often the chisel that cracks the heart open when I have refused to surrender.

And it’s okay that it might take a while to learn this. I am learning to be tender with myself.

I am done with trying to sanitize and rationalize my life away.

Life doesn’t work like this on a more organic level. It will always find a way to come to you in order to crack your most carefully crafted exterior wide open. We are not as together as we would like others to believe.

Sometimes you just have to fall apart in order to come together. That toughened exterior has to crack wide open–the one that always wants to tell the world how fine you are, the one you hide behind with your doubts and fears and wounds.

There are some wounds that are buried deep, and like a splinter, take their own sweet time to surface. Sometimes the abyss looms large and we fall in.

On the way down, open your eyes and look around. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t judge yourself in the falling. Life is having its way with you, hoping you will surrender your heart to it—that you will find a way to say yes.

Life and the ability to laugh will cycle around again.

Life has a rhythm to it like the natural inhalation and exhalation of breathing, like the tides going in and out. No less your very own life, too. Expansion and contraction, contraction and expansion. There is no getting around it.

There are times you are required to give out and then just as naturally, simplify your life or days enough in order to take in the necessary  nurture and nutrition your depleted body and soul requires. You cannot serve from an empty vessel. If you habituate yourself to serving from that place or believing there is no other way, life will come in the backdoor to simplify it for you. It will make a way where you thought there was none.

Recently, I let the windshield washer tank in my car run dry. I discovered this one day when I went to turn it on, and the only thing that came out was disgusting brown ooze all over my windshield. It’s kind of like this when we let our tanks run dry without taking the time to fill them back up.

In my years, I am coming to recognize that I always have enough. It might not appear to be so, I still too often hit the panic button; but it starts with the knowing that I am enough in whatever comes along. It is my perceived inner lack that I project out into the world and then draw back to myself.

Knowing this requires a daily commitment first to show up for myself, even if in the smallest of ways, such as consciously and simply inhaling and exhaling first before taking action or deciding what to say when things fall apart. And maybe that is all you can do in the moment. You might have to keep breathing, on purpose and with awareness.

No matter how we perceive it, we don’t know the end of the story yet. It could be better or worse than you ever imagined and then circle back around again. And remember that at the end of every story, a new one begins, whether that story ends by death or circumstance.

Put away the veneer and shellac, and begin to peer into the holes of your life with new eyes–there are stars in there!

If I were to get a tattoo on my arm to remind me in every minute when things fall apart, here’s what it would say: Everything Is Okay.