Frigid Friday Morning Vows

a06e6f313ebf28aa8f70d61cb2b58154I vow to keep coming back to center. Which means sometimes going to sleep earlier, especially when I see the clear signs–overwhelm, self-doubt–and to let the signs be gentle rather than experiencing them as harsh.

I vow not to take it personally.

I vow to release the arrogance of thinking it must have been something I said, something I did. To spare myself and others the exhausting hamster wheel of that cycle.

I vow to not buy into the tyranny and myth of women comparing ourselves to each other, which is the surest way to abandon both self and other, squandering our wisdom and bounty that could otherwise be shared, given, taken, exchanged, cherished, and life-changing. 

I vow to pause, often and just in time when I’m precariously perched at the edge of that rabbit hole.

I vow to step back from the traps my imagination would have me believe are real, and to do whatever it takes in the moment to return to what IS real: a body, a room, quiet of the woods or the embrace or the aloneness when the mind would be a madhouse.

I vow to love and be loved even when lovability feels distant and I’m scared.

I vow to enjoy the moments when they come like the gifts that they are–like last night, when I gave Aviva a piggyback ride from my room to hers, her strong body firmly clamped around mine and only slightly smaller until we lost our balance and tumbled and fell down on her bed laughing.

I vow to remember that all of it is a choice. Everything. Even when it doesn’t seem like a choice and I’d never in a million years deem the alternative an option.

I vow to remember that my job here on the planet is not to make sure everyone feels good, but to be available from within boundaries that hold and shift and endlessly change form, molding to the shape of the days I can truly call blessed to be here, which is all the days. This is the vehicle of true presence.

I vow to recognize that it is not up to me, to surrender the hard work of ego and relax into the freedom that is always there, waiting for me to come home.

**

Photo origin unknown. (Anyone have any suggestions for this, by the way? I found it on Pinterest but it led to a Tumblr page with no credit.) 

Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s