I spoke with a friend today about a poem I wrote over the long weekend. I had a chance to really relax, not a thing on my to do list those couple days. The combination of our cabin in the middle of nowhere, a really long nap in a hammock, and reading a friend’s new book (mostly in the supine position) gave me some needed R & R, but left me restless. We are so, so used to our hectic pace, aren’t we? Addicted to a certain level of activity/drama/problem solving/achievement. When I slowed down long enough to realize I haven’t really taken a full breath in like 13 years (yes that is Jonathan’s age), I smiled and pondered it.
The space I come into when things get still is beautiful. I am beginning to learn more about it. What I know now is that it clears me, and out of that still, clear space the inspiration comes, usually in the form of words, a poem, or a little nugget of some kind. This particular weekend that moment caught me by surprise and knowing from past experience that I better get it down in ink quickly, I grabbed what I had (my iPhone) and started “writing.”
Today I was sharing that poem for the first time with my friend. She had seen a Facebook post I had written about being inspired in this special nature-connected place of mine, and she wanted to know where that nugget was for her to read. I explained about my insecurities, my self doubt, and not being sure it was something I wanted to share. Silly really. My friend told me so. I love writing and I love sharing these nuggets with whoever cares to read them. So I read it out loud to her. Thanks for listening E.M.
But I go in waves of great and then shaky self esteem. It is that basic human need of wanting to feel worthy and connected (Thanks Brene Brown for clarifying that for me). It would be nice to move through the world not caring about what others think, but the reality is, I care about the connection. I like that feeling and understand that it is one of the reasons we are all here on this planet together. I am not in a place of feeling attached to it anymore, and have made a practice out of not taking things personally, and that is a relief. But connecting feels like life being lived out loud. It feels authentic.
So out of that still, clear, inspired space, a poem titled “Restless” was born, and here it is being shared with you, a small connection, I hope.
Restless
The feeling of accepting the moment,
As it is.
Not achieving,
Or checking anything off the list.
It’s tight in my chest,
And makes me squirm and pace.
I forget to feel.
I forget to look and listen.
I forget to breathe.
Restless is somewhere besides here.
Somewhere is constricted, restrictive,
And small.
Peace is here.
I breathe it in,
With the clean forrest air and feel.
I am free.
It is enough to be here,
And be me.
by Laura Probert
Tell me, how do you like to connect?
