There are many roads and many paths that lead to healing; I believe that anything that leads us there is true, even if the way doesn’t seem very beneficial while we’re in it. This poem is a sincere call to open your heart to healing, based on my own experience of striving to do the same, gracefully.
“You can’t rush your healing; darkness has its teachings.” — Trevor Hall
I’ve certainly learned that healing isn’t particularly fond of being pushed along. Anger doesn’t soften with impatience. Grief can be really demanding, especially when we’re the ones making the demands. The whole point is that we can’t strive, push, demand, and force the healing to happen.
How do we get to where we want to be, where we want to feel, and how we want to live? What’s the key to healing gracefully?
I don’t know, but surely every path to healing leads to healing. The way there might not seem ideal, never mind comfortable, but we can’t look forward and connect the dots that haven’t happened yet: we can only walk forward, one unsure yet hopeful step at a time.
What I do know is that life becomes stagnant when we try to protect our stored issues. The joys of being alive are closed off when we close ourselves off. The reward for not protecting our psyche is liberation.
If we’re constantly trying to control life, and manage our healing as perfectly imperfectly as we can, we struggle to really live.
Healing isn’t a linear path, and it’s not a smooth one, a comfortable one, a pretty or playful one, but it can turn into a worthwhile one depending on the insights we’re willing to be receptive to. We don’t always have to force a change of mind, just relax in the face of the melodrama that goes on inside our head.
The shift will happen when we stop trying to make it happen, stop “patiently” waiting for it to happen, stop contemplating all the ways we can be spiritually aligned with healing. What ends up happening instead is that we cut ourselves off from inspiration, and we forget to just let things be.'Trust,' inspiration whispers. If we listen, everything suddenly becomes natural. Click To Tweet
The following is a poetic offering, from my healing journey to yours.
The only reason this particular group of words exists at all is because inspiration “communicated” with me; I followed its guidance (instead of closing off to it) and it didn’t make any sense while it happened, but it all ultimately made sense, after all the dots were drawn. That’s kind of the way life can be.
The sentences may not rhyme. The messiness exists within the healing, and the healing exists through the mess. Our lives don’t need to read perfectly, or perfectly imperfectly, to be on time; they don’t need to rhyme. I guess they don’t even need to make sense all of the time, but maybe some of the time, in those very intimate moments where we just remember…
Open Your Heart to Healing
I tried to heal more consciously this time.
With the well-intentioned thoughts
Of healing myself,
I distracted myself from myself.
I wanted to feel all my feelings;
I wanted to show up fully.
It wasn’t that I was ignoring the bad stuff;
I dove into it, willingly,
With the intention of
Being all there.
I wanted to be there for myself, but
I ended up cluttering myself with
Everything I wasn’t letting go.
I was letting myself be
In the suffering
With so much intention for
Self-compassion this time,
With so much “loving” focus on
The loss I felt.
I held on to every painful expression.
I held on to so much sadness,
A lot of anger—
Much more than I had planned for, but
Everything I had planned for.
Things couldn’t flow through me;
They got trapped in me.
I dwelled on grieving with love;
I dwelled in grief.
I relinquished my playfulness.
Exercise was too burdensome, a task.
I felt awkward with friends.
I felt smothered by everything.
My energy was already devoted:
Not enough for what I wanted, for
What I used to love;
No energy to be at peace inside.
Life had to reset.
It feels that way right now.
All of a sudden I know what hope really is.
It’s like this: I remember.
I remembered that I needed to
Finish a chapter
To be free to enjoy the next.
I remembered what it felt like to
I remembered that I need to get
So desperate for a better way,
To surrender and ask for help.
Help comes in like a generous wave,
Altering our sight, so
We suddenly see with clarity
What we’ve been needing all along.
Sometimes we need a wave,
So big, so unmistakably for us,
So that it can’t be ignored.
We need to ask for help:
Seeking new ways;
Whispering a prayer;
Walking with a friend;
We do what we can.
Answers will always be
What we’re given.
I finally asked.
I finally heard an answer.
It was too big to describe in words,
Too all-encompassing to
Condense into a single action.
I think I know why my head has felt
My body so tired,
My system so numb from the shocks.
I wanted to be so open to this pain, but
I closed my heart off.
The things I was unintentionally blocking
Were trying to get in.
I was so
Busy holding on to
Sliver of suffering.
No wonder I couldn’t hear the answer:
- When have you noticed yourself trying so hard to heal; how did you soften the struggle?
- Which practices and lessons have aided you in your healing process?
Please share your thoughts, favorite excerpts and sentiments from this poem, how you stay open and receptive to inspiration, and any helpful/hopeful stories with me in the comments.
Pass along the healing inspiration to someone else; share this poem with them to honor all the dots in their journey.
Let all the thoughts just be. Open your heart to whatever wants to come through, whether it makes sense or not. Be with yourself, do your best, and affirm that you’re indeed on the path—a path—to healing. Oh, and don’t forget to live a little.