changing woman
I am changing woman. She who stirs the pot to initiate unpredictable revolutions and She who bends and flexes and twists to grow strong with the changes washing over her.
I am experiencing such revolution as to keep near the limit of my ability to cope and such are the shifts that I have begun to cease mourning the old life that has washed away and has been drowned by rising sea levels.
I still mourn, but for other things. For things I have been afraid to mourn, been afraid to acknowledge existence of.
Love wells inside me, it pours out with no specific object. Sorrow does the same. Very soon, I attach the sense of love or sorrow onto something or someone, sorrow grasps much faster. Often it is later that I realize that sorrow is leaking out and that it is not from a direct cause.
It is now that I long for a teacher to hold a net for me. I long for a wiser soul to guide me. It is security I want. To know that I am not going insane, that it is a normal process.
But security there may not be.
Maybe I will be separated from my tribe always for the very reason of the sort of tribe they are. Maybe finding an equal is not possible, perhaps a fantasy based on wrong perception.
Lack of material resources traps me, but perhaps also holds me back into a safe zone for a time and a purpose. To trust in life, to actually allow that I am part of the larger web and that my sense of individual need is meaningless.....this does not seem to come with security.
Often I have been given security, and often I have put it aside in exchange for the wild. Patterns tell the true story of who I am.
I am changing woman. My bark peels off, my soil washes away with the river, I erupt from the depths of the sea, my fruit will become rot will become fertilizer will become seedling will become tree.
I feel so grateful for all those whose strands link mine in the web. Forgive me if I try to hold tight to you. It is because you are my source and my connection to the whole and I do not yet trust so fully as I do not yet understand fully.
I am experiencing such revolution as to keep near the limit of my ability to cope and such are the shifts that I have begun to cease mourning the old life that has washed away and has been drowned by rising sea levels.
I still mourn, but for other things. For things I have been afraid to mourn, been afraid to acknowledge existence of.
Love wells inside me, it pours out with no specific object. Sorrow does the same. Very soon, I attach the sense of love or sorrow onto something or someone, sorrow grasps much faster. Often it is later that I realize that sorrow is leaking out and that it is not from a direct cause.
It is now that I long for a teacher to hold a net for me. I long for a wiser soul to guide me. It is security I want. To know that I am not going insane, that it is a normal process.
But security there may not be.
Maybe I will be separated from my tribe always for the very reason of the sort of tribe they are. Maybe finding an equal is not possible, perhaps a fantasy based on wrong perception.
Lack of material resources traps me, but perhaps also holds me back into a safe zone for a time and a purpose. To trust in life, to actually allow that I am part of the larger web and that my sense of individual need is meaningless.....this does not seem to come with security.
Often I have been given security, and often I have put it aside in exchange for the wild. Patterns tell the true story of who I am.
I am changing woman. My bark peels off, my soil washes away with the river, I erupt from the depths of the sea, my fruit will become rot will become fertilizer will become seedling will become tree.
I feel so grateful for all those whose strands link mine in the web. Forgive me if I try to hold tight to you. It is because you are my source and my connection to the whole and I do not yet trust so fully as I do not yet understand fully.
posted by hymenoptera's honey at 8:01 AM
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