Such beautiful poetry, all!! How wonderful to be here to be privy to all of your musings on self-love 💜 I wrote this poem - for myself, and for all of us - a few years back:
loved "finding the gentle generosity in my own heart and applying it to myself - ah, yes, too often we are not gentle with ourselves. Thank you for your words
I love this. I'm trying to teach my kids the same. I always hated when my sister called me perfect growing up - I had so much shame over never measuring up, and I know she meant well, but it just reminded me that I very much *wasn't* perfect. I want my children to know that they're never going to be perfect, because no one is, and that that is perfectly okay. ❤️
I wrote this while thinking about bell hooks' chapter on self-acceptance and her description of the brain-changing power of affirmations. Thank you, Kaitlin, for the reminder that "as we show up here we will suddenly show up everywhere."
Self-Love
I ask aloud: does this shirt look okay? I tuck it in again and again. I wonder if they’ll notice the flab. I brush the bangs out of my face. I wonder why I doomed myself to bangs in the first place.
.
I choose another doubt: did you hear me jumble up my words earlier? I sound out the “r’s” in “rural” trying to get it right. I hear the childhood friend tell me that I had a speech impediment when I was little. I think no, no you’re wrong. I replay all my memories of public speaking. I feel the hot bloom of shame for ever daring to speak in the first place.
.
I spiral in the implications:
I am weak
I am a failure
I am not enough
Doesn’t everyone else believe that?
.
I stop: no, don't believe the negative view I myself give you. why am I writing about you anyway? this is about me, isn’t it? I say to myself: please speak life and stop trying to bury me. I imagine myself a weaver, reinforcing the frayed threads of love that alone have the power to piece me together.
.
I repeat the refrain I’ve practiced in the bathroom before work, in the rearview mirror, in the classroom brimming with students, in the hallway with my breath:
I stand on my no's,
not by them;
they are stepping stones
on the way to
better yeses,
that lift more than myself.
Yes indeed!
Hear, hear!!
Fabulous 🙏
This is superb, A. Keep on standing and stepping!
Doing the dishes
(for tomorrow's Lisa)
Making the phone call
(I'm shaking through it)
Eating the food
and stretching arms wide
and telling myself,
"You are doing enough.
You are gonna be fine.
You can hold on and breathe.
You were only a kid."
Taking a bike ride
(just put on your shoes)
Looking for birds
(the buntings are back)
Resting in willow and cottonwood shadow,
and telling myself,
"You got this, my friend.
It's okay to cry.
Life always goes on.
You were only a kid."
"...my friend......"
This really speaks to me; thank you for sharing.
So glad, thank you for reading!
This is a remarkable and beautiful poem, Lisa. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you so much!!
Such beautiful poetry, all!! How wonderful to be here to be privy to all of your musings on self-love 💜 I wrote this poem - for myself, and for all of us - a few years back:
My Wonder
Do you remember
Who you were?
A little wonder -
Him or her
Or they - a being.
Tiny light.
Got things wrong,
And that was right.
You were trying, learning
Laughing, yearning
Being human -
Fires burning.
Reacted to injustice
Ferociously;
Took unkindness
Seriously.
Were you allowed
To just be you?
(Of course with
Some guidance too)
Or were you asked
To tamp it down?
Shush and hush
And hide your crown?
If so, maybe you
disconnected
From yourself -
Choice selected
To fit in -
To tow the line -
To dampen down
Your sheeny shine.
Cuz God forbid
You be full of you!
But here's the thing -
You've been untrue.
On a primal level.
Can't you see?
There's no one else
You're meant to be!
So if you're feeling lost -
At sea -
A recommendation
To you from me -
Reconnect with
The child in you;
Remember being
In their shoes.
Try and learn
Laugh and yearn
Be a human
Let your fire burn.
Tear your untrue self
Assunder.
Be full of you -
You little wonder.
Love this! Beautiful.
Wow. Wow. Wow.
This is beauutiful Sarah, full of hope and wisdom. Thank you for sharing it with us, a balm and healing salve for the wounds we feel.
I'm so glad I came back and saw this one. There are a lot of lines I love, but ending with "you little wonder"is just so sweet.
Be full of you.......🙂
.
God of nurture, God of nourishment, God who longs to gather us under Their wing,
you are the one who loves us into being.
What I call self-love is You
loving me into being through my own care.
Open me to embody
Your love so that I learn I’m real and
Your boundaries so I learn I’m safe, because
I need strength to freely choose vulnerability;
I need liberation to freely choose what binds me;
I need a self to freely give it up.
The word "yoke" keeps yelling at me from the sidelines of your poem.
You are my sunshine,
You are the faithful one,
Holding the brilliant radiance of the divine,
When I enter the wilderness,
You appear in the stillness,
Your voice familiar,
A sweet sadness trickles through me,
Like snow melt to a dry creek bed,
I've missed you,
I long to love you,
My fear is that you will not be enough
for the demands of this world.
Light my way dear self,
Your way is far riskier,
However, abandoning you is too painful,
I've learned this full well.
Just lovely 🙏
Thank you =)
Attempting to satiate the emptiness and longing I feel inside
I fall hook, line and sinker, seduced by the outer focus of love.
Seems strange this endeavor to seek replenishment of lost reserves
from the same world that continually takes them.
Playing on my shame, using my sense of unworthiness
to fuel a craving for external approval, acceptance, and love.
Challenging to be in a culture that wants me to chase and
pursue fulfillment, but how else are profits made.
.
Yet the rebel in me emerges!
Love is not a commodity
that can be procured and sold.
Instead, its circular and round
swirling through everything.
Currents that ebb and flow,
always returning,
never leaving.
.
Inviting me to walk a different path, knowing I am worthy of love.
Finding the gentle generosity in my own heart and applying it to myself.
Learning to love and hold what I find intolerable and undeserving.
Staying put when all I want to do is run in the other direction.
Feeling and being with the vulnerability and rawness of my own need.
How will I find love externally if I am not open to the inherent love within.
loved "finding the gentle generosity in my own heart and applying it to myself - ah, yes, too often we are not gentle with ourselves. Thank you for your words
what tips the balance
self-love vs self-loathing
find good company
Nope.
Its not vanilla.
Too obvious.
Too predictable.
Too homogeneous.
An empathy magnet,
Vanilla is just VANILLA.
Its that chunky monkey flavor of self-deprication i prefer.
No one hardly even notices.
they just think I must like bananas.
This is splendid, Chuck! I LOVE it!
Love your neighbour
as yourself,
he said.
Really?
I am not sure
about that.
Sometimes
it is so much easier
to love, serve, help
a friend
or neighbour
than to take on
the hard task
of loving the one
I find inside
myself
I feel this. ❤️
self-love
I don't understand
too much trauma
too much pain
but I am becoming
a good steward of my pain
doing what is necessary
to heal and grow
hearing a calling to become
a wounded healer
enabled be there for others
as a pastor or a friend
or maybe just a
stranger with compassion
in reality
acknowledging my pain
and need for healing
taking time for myself
to heal and grow
doing the work
necessary for healing
are acts of self-love
even though
I may not ever understand
doesn't mean that
I won't ever be able to do it
I am doing it
though the heart and mind
may never connect
doesn't mean
I am stuck in
hopelessness
I am weary at times
from doing the work
but most days
I am filled with hope
Self-Love
The little girl in me
looks with big eyes.
Will I scold her,
berate her,
fill her with shame?
Or will I push her,
ignore her,
or say she’s to blame?
Instead, I turn to her
and see her sweet heart.
I will pay attention,
give compassion,
hear her cries of need.
I will build her up,
forgive her errors,
choose her soul to feed.
We look at each other
and see eyes of love.
i am a tree
with roots growing down deep
and branches growing tall and wide
my roots are nourished
by the same good Earth
that nourishes others
"There's no such thing as perfect!"
I repeat to my kids.
Our household mantra
works to stem the flow
of comparison and shame.
To counteract
the pull of the algorithm
and influence.
No one is perfect.
All are perfectly imperfect.
Our flawed bodies
tell our story.
Our flawed characters
make room for humility
and growth.
Our flawed perspectives:
opportunities for learning.
And we learn,
with time,
that to love our selves
is to embrace
the whole self,
the true self.
Perfectly imperfect.
I love this. I'm trying to teach my kids the same. I always hated when my sister called me perfect growing up - I had so much shame over never measuring up, and I know she meant well, but it just reminded me that I very much *wasn't* perfect. I want my children to know that they're never going to be perfect, because no one is, and that that is perfectly okay. ❤️
Oh, this is a work in progress, but so am I.
.
Countless hours spent
talking with others about love,
especially that elusive self-love that
can feel like the bigfoot in the room,
don’t bring it any closer
.
The sweet trinity of Love,
Love of the cosmic forces beyond ourselves,
love of other beings,
and love of ourself.
.
Yea, it’s that last one that breaks the deal,
But if our love is hierarchical
and we are the bottom,
it is not really whole and perhaps
not love at all.
.
Here I am again, starting in the mirror,
looking at blue screen,
reading sweet poems
listening to love music and seeking
to finally get this right.
.
“I love you” I say
to ragged face in the mirror
and even they grimace.
Irish ancestors stirring in long forgotten graves,
vocational forbears warning against ego,
and shouting “sacrifice”,
imprisoned word
masquerading as self-loathing.
.
This day, spring rainy afternoon,
grey clouds in descent,
I am starting again.
It’s okay, precious friend,
we can do this together.
The sweet glow of loving kindness
starts here.
You deserve the love you give so freely to others 🧡
Thank you A. You are a wonderful gem!!!!
This absolutely brought me to tears. We can do this. Together. ❤️
You got this right, Karri!
I wrote this while thinking about bell hooks' chapter on self-acceptance and her description of the brain-changing power of affirmations. Thank you, Kaitlin, for the reminder that "as we show up here we will suddenly show up everywhere."
Self-Love
I ask aloud: does this shirt look okay? I tuck it in again and again. I wonder if they’ll notice the flab. I brush the bangs out of my face. I wonder why I doomed myself to bangs in the first place.
.
I choose another doubt: did you hear me jumble up my words earlier? I sound out the “r’s” in “rural” trying to get it right. I hear the childhood friend tell me that I had a speech impediment when I was little. I think no, no you’re wrong. I replay all my memories of public speaking. I feel the hot bloom of shame for ever daring to speak in the first place.
.
I spiral in the implications:
I am weak
I am a failure
I am not enough
Doesn’t everyone else believe that?
.
I stop: no, don't believe the negative view I myself give you. why am I writing about you anyway? this is about me, isn’t it? I say to myself: please speak life and stop trying to bury me. I imagine myself a weaver, reinforcing the frayed threads of love that alone have the power to piece me together.
.
I repeat the refrain I’ve practiced in the bathroom before work, in the rearview mirror, in the classroom brimming with students, in the hallway with my breath:
I am strong
I am light
I am enough
Can’t I believe that?
'I imagine myself a weaver' 💜
"Learning to Love Yourself is the Greatest Love of All" George Benson
Why is it so easy to love someone other than self?
When does self-loathing start?
Where do the feelings of envy sprout and root and grow?
And how dare we question the miracle of us?
Who do we think we are?
Too much and not enough: a shame based fear of being ordinary.
The narcissist needs no one and everyone.
Two sides of the same coin.
Oh please!
Wherever you go, there you are.
You may as well love yourself.