Make growth our reality - such a wonderful way to frame it Kaitlin, thank you 💜
I will share with you the words of a song I have written for a project I'm working on at the moment. Myself and a colleague are bringing parents and babies into nursing homes to foster intergenerational connection, and our theme is 'Seasons'.
The month is definitely flying by! There's been a lot of turmoil in my personal life lately, so having this practice first thing every morning is incredibly grounding. (I'm wondering if I should try to do something like this every month, as I've really enjoyed doing Inktober in the past. A little creativity and self- connection in the morning is so good for me!)
I wrote the following for another group I am I. The prompt was to take a title and build a poem around it. I choose Noah Kahan’s song “Growing Sideways”.
Growing Sideways
.
This isn't quite the garden that I planted.
I tried to sow the seeds in perfect rows.
Tended it with care, there were blossoms everywhere
But you can't always control the way things grow.
.
There have been many years of lovely flowers
Though sometimes blooms would wither on the vine
No matter how I tried here and there some plants would die
And some areas have grown up over time.
.
Many times I've wanted just to give up
And let the whole damn thing just go to seed.
But then every spring, there would be the shoots of green
And I'd go back to pulling random weeds.
.
So even when my best laid plans go sideways
We're growing and we're thriving just the same.
Life keeps moving on, we're weak and then we're strong.
I knew I was healing
when I stopped acting
well-behaved and amenable,
smiling while receiving a scolding
even as a grown-ass adult.
Even if it comes with pain and heartache
I’m gonna relish the growth.
My inner child breathes more easy these days.
So glad they're breathing more easily 💜
OOH! This is so real. Lovely!
So true 🤍
grown-ass adult. Yup.
G R O W T H
Growth is often a mirage,
a trick,
a trap of discontent
when it’s sold to us as the definition of success
and tastes like forceful striving,
A pressure to yield obvious fruit;
to expand territory;
colonial,
deemed as progress because it’s measurable.
But growth as stillness within storms,
steadfast weathering,
roots clinging to cracks within the rocks against the odds,
deep, gentle foundations
pausing when instinct is to react
response time a more spacious place,
the periscope of self awareness more discerning of nuanced shades of lightness and dark
A patience generously covering desire like powerful, gentle wings
The goal or outcome is not credit-claiming
but a movement of community
Organic, slow, nurturing
A collective stirring, awakening, un-learning,
Values strengthening, embodied
This is the growth my soul seeks
(Wrote this last month - there is audio on this post 👇)
https://open.substack.com/pub/angedisbury/p/g-r-o-w-t-h?r=2qii2&utm_medium=ios
“… stirring, awakening, unlearning”
Yes!
....no fruit no grow....?..
yes...I also claim BS.
“One day, you’ll grow up.”
he said, as if leaving
my childhood self behind
was my life’s purpose.
I tried that,
for too many years.
Now, I’m learning how
to grow into the person
I was as a child.
There was a time
when I dreamed of growing up
to become a cowboy,
or even better,
to quote my elementary self,
“a good Indian.”
There was a time
when I understood less
but loved without inhibition.
There was a time
when I didn’t try to decide
whether a Samaritan
was good or not, or
was worthy of love,
but loved without calculation.
There was a time
when I looked into others’ eyes
and saw pools of grace
reflecting from their hearts.
There was a time
when joy cut a rug
with pure abandon,
and I joined her,
lurching across
the chapter of my day
in cavortial glee.
My hope and prayer
is that today can,
again, be such a time.
In my soul and
in my life, O God,
make “There was a time…”
into “This is a time…”
Grow into the person I was as a child 💜
🙂🙂...When joy cut a rug.....
....... and I joined her.....🙂🙂
So beautiful Todd. Needed this one today.
My daughter stands,
blowing dandelions,
catching wishes
in her hair
as the breeze
blows the seeds
and they dance
through the air.
.
Sturdy stalks stand
defiantly in the breeze
as it meanders and weaves
its way around trees.
A field full of wishes
for a world full of pain,
growing bigger and wilder
beneath wind and rain.
.
Would that I could
seed the world over, stood
on the precipice
with so straight a spine,
daring to sow
the seeds that will grow
a kinder world
with these wishes of mine.
*catching wishes
in her hair*
💜
Convert (A Love Story)
I only came into their House for some rest.
I needed a break from the violent storm
of shame; the cold rain had me shaking
and sick. I didn’t expect to find anyone home
but Someone called my name.
They didn’t pretend I hadn’t done
wrong. They just asked if I’d let them
help carry the pain. I wasn’t sure.
I’ve been let down a lot.
They didn’t try to rush me, though.
They took their time courting, little love
notes (other people called them angels) lying
here and there for me to find in cupboards
or under the sofa. Slowly I learned
I could trust their Word. Slowly I saw
they’d been sending those letters for years,
eternally patient and present — trusting me.
So I practiced turning my prayers
into seeds, little intimacies
planted secretly in the garden
of our growing relationship.
And one day I said yes
and it didn’t matter that they hadn’t asked
the question or that I still thought I was too weird
to be worth loving.
Our queer little wedding broke
so many rules, but my Beloved laughed
and told me the only good reason for rules
is to teach people how to love well.
They said the aim of a Lover is always
only
ever
to set their beloved free.
Absolutely stunning.
🥰🙏🏼
There's a violence
An exuberance
To the way that plants burst out of the ground
From seed or tuber or corm
The way they spread their arms wide and shout, "I am here!"
Announced with leaves unfurling like butterfly wings
And flowers that demand attention
The sandvine growing a foot a day
The baby sycamore with dinner-plate sized leaves
-- Can I exist with as much enthusiasm as the plants?
Can I too announce my presence, and rejoice?
“announce my presence, and rejoice” <3 <3 <3
What is a good metric for personal growth?
Is it the number of degrees or promotions in my career
or is it being willing to step away from degrees or promotions?
Is it my ability to try new things without fear
or is it to try new things despite my fear?
Is it my calm composure
or is it my embrace of rage?
Is it how I resist the things that trigger me
or is it the lessening of the triggers themselves?
Is it these questions stimulating a new plane of understanding
or is it something that cannot be grasped through conversation?
-
Or is it just me one morning
looking in the mirror
and saying hello
to the old me
to the new me
to me
and not needing anyone
or anything else
to name it
Grow:
like a weed.
stronger.
fond of.
wild.
a pair. 🙂
.
.
Grow:
a thicker skin.
old.
apart.
tired.
cold.
.
.
grow's yings and yangs.
Make growth our reality - such a wonderful way to frame it Kaitlin, thank you 💜
I will share with you the words of a song I have written for a project I'm working on at the moment. Myself and a colleague are bringing parents and babies into nursing homes to foster intergenerational connection, and our theme is 'Seasons'.
Tiny seed, we see you.
Weedy weed - we need you too.
Grow, grow, grow -
All that you know -
In your own time.
Furrowed field, we see you.
All you'll yield - all you do.
Work and rest;
Rest and grow,
In your own time.
Might Oak, we see you.
Wisdom spoke - we hear you too.
Still you grow -
Good and slow -
In your own time.
Together grow,
All that we'll know,
In our own time.
The month is definitely flying by! There's been a lot of turmoil in my personal life lately, so having this practice first thing every morning is incredibly grounding. (I'm wondering if I should try to do something like this every month, as I've really enjoyed doing Inktober in the past. A little creativity and self- connection in the morning is so good for me!)
Growth
The invisible
Forward movement we can't rush
But gain as we live
Healing isn’t Linear
And neither is Growth
3 steps forward, 2 steps back
Seems the awkward Path for Both
One day you’re Great
You’ve figured it out
The next you’re flummoxed
And full of Doubt
The goal is to find Peace
In both of these Places
As you Surrender to Grace
No matter which way it Faces
Living within
This sidewalk chalk
Perimeter,
The house rules are simple:
Stay inside.
Beginning to feel
Confined.
Waiting for the rain
To smudge the lines,
Go first,
Break the ice -
Daring to color
Outside the lines,
Growth edges
Redefined.
Growing pains
A reminder
That I once drew
This circle.
I’ve outgrown it.
Change is imminent.
This previously comfortable
Comfort zone
One of many
Concentric chalk circles
Milestones
Marking seasons
Of exploration and release.
Chalk in hand
I step outside
Swing my arms wide,
Briefly uncontained
As I reframe
My new space.
My growth rings
Impermanent and profound:
Always growing
Never grown.
Round and round.
Growth
feels like
earth
crumbles like
dust
the kind I know
sinks into
cracks once-full
splitting me
from who I thought
I was
who I thought I was -
Two thousand years,
still going.
Towering redwoods
know about growth.
What do I
in my measly
thirty-eight years
think I know?
Growth rings
show my path.
Thick years of
healthy growth
along with thin
meager years,
scars where the
lightning struck.
I sink my roots
deep,
pulling up nutrients
and strength as I
stretch taller.
I don't know
how high I'll grow,
but I'll aim to
enjoy the view
along the way.
I wrote the following for another group I am I. The prompt was to take a title and build a poem around it. I choose Noah Kahan’s song “Growing Sideways”.
Growing Sideways
.
This isn't quite the garden that I planted.
I tried to sow the seeds in perfect rows.
Tended it with care, there were blossoms everywhere
But you can't always control the way things grow.
.
There have been many years of lovely flowers
Though sometimes blooms would wither on the vine
No matter how I tried here and there some plants would die
And some areas have grown up over time.
.
Many times I've wanted just to give up
And let the whole damn thing just go to seed.
But then every spring, there would be the shoots of green
And I'd go back to pulling random weeds.
.
So even when my best laid plans go sideways
We're growing and we're thriving just the same.
Life keeps moving on, we're weak and then we're strong.
This garden we call life cannot be tamed.