Unravelling and weaving, sometimes simultaneously

Posts tagged ‘emotional freedom’

Dear Janet

Dear Janet:
Writing you on the other side
to say that
I wish I could lie on your table again
and have you tell me
the same thing
you did before:

Remember a time that you failed.

I was young then, Janet
I was so green and full of hubris
I did not want to fail
and had worked hard
not to ever be seen as a failure

Pride in the spring
before the long summer
Pride when the flowers blossom
ignoring the inevitability
of the petals falling away

Yes, I have failed, Janet
many times now
I have fallen and gotten up
over and over
as the weight of experience and years
piled onto my shoulders
and I chose a rocky path
or tripped on my own feet

The buds crested,
their full perfume a memory now
but there has been fruit
something to sustain me in the harvest
and hopefully, Janet
the seeds I preserve
will weather the winter
so I can share them
before I am part of the loam.

I am learning, Janet
I am learning that failure
as you said
means I am reaching farther
than the safety
of trying to be perfect
I am trying harder
to grow.

(c) RCGA 2016

This is my 200th post here.

For Janet Mentgen, RN and Healing Touch mentor, who passed in 2005.

Healing-Touch-Janet M



When I was little
she was a demigoddess
the breast I fed from
the teacher
the healer of skinned knees
with kisses and songs

When she broke
I didn’t understand
what breaking meant
but I learned
that it meant
pieces scatter
and take people with them
that it meant
lines are drawn
sides taken
and if you don’t choose
your choice is taken

even if you choose
you don’t get
what you wanted

I was the only one there
so she projected
every bit of everything
upon me

all her fears
became mine
by default

I did not own them
but forced into
the indentured servitude
of blood and proximity
I carried them
heavy and foreign
around my neck
her millstone
she was too weak
to bear

He told me that
she needed me
and she did

she needed someone
to hold all the things
she didn’t have room for
as she flew apart

she needed someone
to stand guard at the door
while she disintegrated
curled into a ball
salting the earth
I struggled to grow in

she needed someone
who would never leave her
and ultimately
I was the one
who never did

with the baggage
of years between us
I reached over it
and held her hand
wiped her face
changed the channel
told her stories
as if
she were
my child
of the other way

The morning they called
I knew when the phone rang
because I could feel it

the layers of her
overlaying me
slid away
as gently as her hands
had been
when things were
innocent and good
and no one took sides
or looked into someone else’s eyes
and said

You never loved me

(c) RCGA 2015

Mattie Belle 1931-2010

A little note… she was named for her grandmother, who was known by her nickname, but the name on her birth certificate was Amanda, a name that means “worthy of being loved”. She always wished that had been her name; perhaps she never understood that she was not only worthy, but always loved.

the semicolon project

“I got this tattoo as a promise to myself that I would never willingly end my sentence.”

A shout-out for suicide prevention and the moment by moment struggle to keep writing and avoid putting period to the gift that is both pain and beauty.

the semicolon project.

Monkey Trap

There is a thing called a monkey trap. Usually it’s a jar, or a coconut, or some other container whose entry allows the monkey’s hand in, but prevents it from withdrawing its fist once it has grasped the bait. Stubborn, and unable to conceive releasing the object and simply dumping it out, the monkey is effectively trapped. Often, the only way to get the monkey to let go is to offer it something it wants more than what it already has in its fist.

What is your monkey trap? What is it that you hang on to so firmly that it keeps you from being free? Almost anything can be a monkey trap… what you have to discover is what you have in your hand, what it is that you are grasping, and why.

Is it Fear that keeps you trapped? Is it Anger? Are you holding on to a broken relationship, a dead end job, things you don’t need, experiences in your past?

When you think about what you have in your hand, what do you feel? Why is it important for you to hang on to it? What would happen if you let go?

Think about the best thing that could happen if you release yourself from your monkey trap. How would freedom feel? How would it feel to move on? Think about the worst thing that could happen if you let go. Are the consequences so grievous, or have you just gotten used to hanging on for dear life to something that no longer serves your higher purpose?


(c) RCGA, 2013



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