Narcissist

 

MillaF / Shutterstock

 

I loved the narcissist

The object of selfish beauty

Engulfed so deeply in herself

No suitors did she see.

I loved the narcissist

But no lovers did she meet

Engulfed so deeply in herself

through the mirror could she see?

I loved the narcissist

The way her beauty gleams

Engulfed so deeply in herself

she was too blinded to see.

I loved the narcissist

her eyes so vague and deep

Engulfed so deeply in herself

The narcissist was me.

Asha Nicole

I Want to Tell You

 

Engin Aykurt

 I want to tell you

that you’ve arrived.

The darkness is done.

The day has come.

All your dreams are manifesting

All your seeds of joy are

ready for harvesting.

I want to tell you

that every shredding pain and

terrifying trauma was worth it

that you are special for it,

chosen to deliver all those whom you love to

honeysuckle, sweet liberation.

I want to tell you

that the twisted birth canal of the mother wound has been

straightened,

the fractured father pain made molten,

reformed.

The ancestral and cultural distortions

reckoned with, reoriented, and righted.

Instead…

Instead, I must tell you

that your brain has not yet endured

a quarter of the aches of

rewiring pain

to clarity;

your heart has not arrested in

cardiac frustration from the thousandth

deceitful arrow plucked from its tender ventricles;

your bones have not cracked and

the venom marrow not yet been

sucked clean.

I must tell you that

the expected congregations of celebrations are

crickets

if not total silence.

The deep dark of social malaise

and disease still spreads.

The rain of illusion still pours into your veins from a culture lost

in the pitch black of

suffering sleep.

And more.

There is so much more I MUST

tell you

so that a freeing dawn lightens your

life,

your load.

Buckle down.

Bear the next grief, the next ton of sorrow.

Drive through the resistance to your liberation

and the false prospects of a golden age.

Do this

so that I can tell you one day

You have arrived.

The darkness is done.

The day has come.

Jim Tolles

The Awakening

 

Anastasia Tsyoh

 

There comes a time in life when you finally get it...when in the midst of all the fear and insanity, you stop dead on your tracks….and somewhere inside your head a voice cries out, ENOUGH! Enough fighting and crying…or struggling, to hold on. And like a child quieting down after a blind tantrum, your sobs begin to subside. You shudder once or twice, you blink back a few tears and through a mantle of wet lashes, you begin to look at the world with new eyes.

This, is your awakening!

You realize that it is time to stop hoping and waiting for something to magically change or for happiness, safety and security, to come galloping like a wild horse over the next horizon. You come to terms with the fact that there is no Prince Charming or Cinderella…and that in the real world, there aren't always fairy tale endings, or beginnings for that matter. You realize that any "happily ever after" MUST begin with you….and with this, a sense of serenity is born of acceptance. 

You awaken to the fact that you are not perfect and that not everyone will always love, approve or appreciate who or what you are….and that, is OK (everyone is entitled to their own views and opinions). Thus, you learn the value of loving and championing yourself and with this, a sense of new-found confidence is born, of self-approval.

You stop complaining and blaming other people for things they did to you (or did not do for you) and you learn that the only thing you can really count on, is the unexpected. You realize that people don't always say what they mean, or mean what they say…and that not everyone will always be there for you….and that it is not always, about you. As a result, you learn to stand on your own and to take care of yourself. And with this, a sense of safety and security is born, from self-reliance.

You also stop judging and pointing fingers…because you begin to accept people as they are; overlooking their shortcomings or human frailties. In the process, a sense of peace and contentment is born of forgiveness…for others and more importantly, for yourself.

You begin to see that much of the way that you’ve viewed yourself and the world around you, is a result of misleading messages and opinions which have engrained in your psyche. Therefore, you start to sift through emotional debris, created by what has been fed to you for years; about what you should believe, how you should look, how you should live, what career you should strive for, who you should marry, what you should expect of marriage, the meaning of having or not having children…or why you should or should not live up to your family’s expectations.

You begin to open up to new possibilities…new worlds and different points of views; assessing and redefining who you really are and what you truly stand for. You learn the difference between wanting and needing…you start to discard useless doctrines, which you’ve now outgrown; some which you should have never bought into, to begin with. You learn it is in giving that one truly receives. You discover there’s power in creating and contributing…so you stop maneuvering through life as a mere “consumer” just looking for the next fix.

Surely, you learn that principles such as honesty and integrity are not just some outdated ideals of a bygone era….but rather, like key ingredients in a mortar; the foundation upon which you should build a life. You begin to understand that you don’t know everything; as it is not your job to save the world….and that you can’t teach a pig to sing. The difference between guilt and responsibility becomes crystal clear…and you learn how important it is to set boundaries and the freedom, of saying NO. You realize the only cross to bear, is the one you choose to carry…as martyrs too, get burned at the stake.

You also learn about LOVE. Familial, friendship and romantic love…and how to love. How much to give, when to hold back, and when to walk away. You learn not to impose or force things in a relationship. With this, you stop projecting expectations and learn to accept reality; allowing a natural unfolding of what is, instead of what you wish it would be. You begin to understand that you are not more beautiful, more intelligent, more lovable, or more important by being how any person you love, expects you to be. Because, the person holding your hand does not define you. Furthermore, you stop trying to control people, situations and outcomes…and realize that just as people grow and change, so does love. Ultimately, you accept that love does not have to be specific to a popular format, to equal happiness…or for it to have validity, and that being alone does not mean, being lonely.

You look in the mirror and you come to terms with not having the body of an airbrushed model, from a fashion magazine. Therefore, you stop competing with the image in your head and instead, you start to love yourself exactly as you are. You stop agonizing on how to stack up to what others feel is normal or acceptable. Thus, you refrain from putting your feelings aside or ignoring your needs to fit in, or to satisfy others. And you learn that feelings of entitlement when it relates to your life and your happiness, are perfectly OK…you are, entitled to be appreciated….and valued. And sometimes, if you feel trespassed, it is necessary to make demands and to set boundaries, in order to protect yourself.

You understand that you do deserve to be treated with love, kindness, compassion and respect; starting with how you, treat yourself…and not to contemplate anything less. From this point on, only those arms who cherishes you, may hold you….and in this process, you internalized the meaning of self-respect.

You learn that your body, really is your temple. Thus…you begin to take care of it and to treat it with innate respect. You start to eat a balance diet and to hydrate with more water…you take more time to exercise. You learn that fatigue can also weaken the spirit; which could lead to self doubt and anxiety…so you take more time to rest.

And just as food fuels the body…laughter fuels the soul, so you find time to laugh and play. You learn that for the most part, in life you get what you believe you deserve…and that much of life if not all, is a self fulfilling prophecy; so you make an effort to become more optimistic. You learn that anything worth achieving, is worth fighting for. That wishing for something to happen, is different from working toward making it happen…and you find the strength to do the latter. 

Most importantly, you learn that to succeed in anything…you need direction, discipline and perseverance. You also learn that no one can do it all alone and that it is ok to ask for help. Consequently, you learn the only thing you should fear in life is the great robber baron of all time; FEAR ITSELF! So you find a way to step right through your fears, because you realize that whatever happens you can handle it. For to give in to fear…is to give up the right to live on your terms.

You learn to fight hard for your life and not to squander, living under a cloud of impending doom. You see life isn’t always fair; you don’t always get what you wish for and sometimes bad things happen to unsuspecting, good people. It is during these moments that you learn not to personalize things. God isn’t punishing you, or failing to answer your prayers. It is life just happening! And you start to recognize evil in its most primal state; the ego…learning how to control it, instead of allowing it, to control you.

You realize that negative feelings such as anger, envy, hate, resentment and sorrow, must all be understood and redirected…or they will suffocate the life out of you…and poison the universe which surrounds you. You learn to admit when you’re wrong and to build bridges instead of walls. You learn about gratitude and to appreciate the comfort of simple things, which many take for granted….things that millions of people on Earth can only dream of: clean running water, a full refrigerator, a comfortable bed to sleep on, a hot shower on a cold day, clean clothes to wear…a place to call home.

Slowly, you start to take responsibility for yourself. You make yourself a promise to never betray yourself again by settling for less than. You hang a wind chime outside a window, so you could listen to the wind; as a gentle reminder to keep trusting, keep smiling…and you make it a point to stay open to every wonderful possibility.

Finally…with courage in your heart and with God by your side…you take a stand. You take a deep breath…and you begin to design the life you want, as best as you can!

Judith Espinosa

 

Being Alive

 

Jeremy Bishop 

Deep sea diver, she casts her net,

and yet swims down deeper below,

where the light is transfixed to go, into the darkness…into the abyss

where a seeming ominous world is really filled with goodness that is luminous

But only few have ever traveled to….

For the body and mind must be prepared, must be developed and strengthened

to see that light that blinds

and still come out the other side.

For it can break you in two if you are not ready.

It can shatter all of you,

and all of you will be left to pieces,

shambles of the self you knew.

Like Humpty Dumpty, who will pick you up?

Who will put you back together?

Only the force that made you could.

But before then, you will be left on the border

of divinity and madness, swimming through the tides

of aliveness

with your unconscious wide open

with the powers of creation and destruction at your grip

with the unseen world louder and brighter and more real

than anything else the body could see or hear.

The inner world will rage and roar like a carnival.

Up will be down, down will be up.

The flaming dragon will fling you to every side

with no remorse or restraint

only fire burning in his eyes.

Right will become wrong, wrong will make no more sense,

and blurring insanity will have filled your cup

until it is overflowing again

into a pool of illusions

with glimpses, you will see,

See so crystal clearly

for sanity will wake back up

and then you will slip back into the darkness and depths

that none around have traveled, so how can they help you climb back up?

No, no, something else must do it….

the inner Savior must come find you,

must take your hand and guide you

into the clear waters of redemption

into the good earth of your amendment

where all is balanced and retained

both the moisture from the rain

and the Sunlight’s nutrients penetrating deep

into your Soul’s enclave.

You are going to need it all.

All Nature must come alive within

and make its home in your heart.

All elements must become the family that supports and nourishes,

become the members that grow you and know you

and teach you and learn you

back in, back out….

sanity starts peaking in

reaching in to your body and mind

til you again have your sight

for this world

for that which you see

and all that you see, that cannot be seen

will become a language between secret friends

and talking and communicating and understanding

will become easy

and you will find yourself happy about this descent.

You will be happy you unraveled out and back again

and are no longer cursing the pains of the world inflicted upon you

by the ignorance of man.

You will come to see the glory that lives in all of them too

and this world will become only, yet unimaginably beautiful to you.

Everything in it….the mad, the sad, the artful and the bore

all will come to be delighted in

and find temperance and feeling for

living inside the softness which cannot be maimed

inside the glow that reflects all rays.

Yes, surely this is what all the madness was for

to get us kneeling on our hands and knees

in utter awe of all the beauty that stands before

poised with the brilliance of sobriety

that comes with the hum of a quiet mind

which melts the heart with wonder and gladness

simply at the experience of being alive.

Jim Tolles

On the Death of the Beloved

  

Style Arena

Though we need to weep your loss,

You dwell in that safe place in our hearts,

Where no storm or night or pain can reach you.

Your love was like the dawn

Brightening over our lives

Awakening beneath the dark

A further adventure of colour.

The sound of your voice

Found for us

A new music

That brightened everything.

Whatever you enfolded in your gaze

Quickened in the joy of its being;

You placed smiles like flowers

On the altar of the heart.

Your mind always sparkled

With wonder at things.

Though your days here were brief,

Your spirit was live, awake, complete.

We look towards each other no longer

From the old distance of our names;

Now you dwell inside the rhythm of breath,

As close to us as we are to ourselves.

Though we cannot see you with outward eyes,

We know our soul's gaze is upon your face,

Smiling back at us from within everything

To which we bring our best refinement.

Let us not look for you only in memory,

Where we would grow lonely without you.

You would want us to find you in presence,

Beside us when beauty brightens,

When kindness glows

And music echoes eternal tones.

When orchids brighten the earth,

Darkest winter has turned to spring;

May this dark grief flower with hope

In every heart that loves you.

May you continue to inspire us:

To enter each day with a generous heart.

To serve the call of courage and love

Until we see your beautiful face again

In that land where there is no more separation,

Where all tears will be wiped from our mind,

And where we will never lose you again. 

John O’Donohue

Basket of Figs

 

Pumarck-Favim

 Bring me your pain, love. Spread 

it out like fine rugs, silk sashes, 

warm eggs, cinnamon

and cloves in burlap sacks. Show me

the detail, the intricate embroidery 

on the collar, tiny shell buttons, 

the hem stitched the way you were taught,

pricking just a thread, almost invisible.

Unclasp it like jewels, the gold 

still hot from your body. Empty 

your basket of figs. Spill your wine.

That hard nugget of pain, I would suck it, 

cradling it on my tongue like the slick 

seed of pomegranate. I would lift it

tenderly, as a great animal might 

carry a small one in the private 

cave of the mouth.

Ellen Bass

in,  Mules of Love

PLEASE HEAR WHAT I’M NOT SAYING

 

Don’t be fooled by me.

Don’t be fooled by the face I wear.

For I wear a mask; I wear a thousand masks,

And none of them are me.

Pretending is an art that is second nature with me, but

Don’t be fooled, please don’t be fooled.

I give the impression that I’m secure,

That confidence is my name and coolness my game, that

The water’s calm and I’m in command, and that I need

No one.

But don’t believe me. Please don’t.

My surface may seem smooth, but my surface is my mask,

My ever-varying and ever-concealing mask.

Beneath lies no smugness, no complacence.

Beneath dwells the real me, in confusion, in fear, in

Aloneness.

I panic at the thought of my weakness and I fear being

Exposed.

That’s why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,

A nonchalant, sophisticated façade, to help me pretend,

To shield me from the glance that knows.

But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only salvation.

And I know it.

That is, if that glance is followed by acceptance, if

It’s followed by love.

It’s the only thing that can liberate me from myself.

From my own self-built prison walls, from the

Barriers that I so painstakenly erect.

It’s the only thing that will assure me of what I can’t

Assure myself, that I’m really worth something.

But I don’t tell you this.

I don’t dare. I’m afraid to

I’m afraid that deep down I’m nothing, that I’m just no

Good, and that you’ll see this and reject me.

So I play my game, my desperate, pretending game, with a

Façade of assurance on the outside, and a trembling

Child within.

And so begins the parade of masks, the glittering but

Empty parade of masks

And my life becomes a front.

I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.

I tell you everything that’s really nothing, and nothing

Of that which is everything, of what’s crying within me.

Do when I’m going through my routine, do not be fooled

By what I’m saying.

Please listen, carefully and try to hear what I’m NOT

Saying, what I’d like to be able to say, what, for

Survival, I need to say, but I can’t say.

I dislike hiding. Honestly, I do.

I dislike the superficial, phony game.

I’d really like to be genuine and spontaneous, and me;

But you’ve got to help me

Only you can wipe away from my eyes the blank stare of

The breathing dead.

Only you can call me into aliveness.

Each time you’re kind and gentle and encouraging, each

Time you try to understand because you really care,

My heart begins to grow wings, very small wings, very

Feeble wings, but wings with your sensitivity and

Sympathy and your power of understanding.

You can breathe life into me. I want you to know that,

I want you to know how important you are to me, that you

Can be a creator of the person that is me if you choose to.

Please choose to. You alone can break down the wall behind

Which I tremble; you alone can remove my mask.

So do not pass me by. Please do not pass me by.

It will not be easy for you. A long conviction of worthlessness

Builds strong walls.

But I’m told that love is stronger than strong walls,

And in this lies my hope. My only hope.

Please try to beat down those walls with firm hands

But with gentle hands – for a child is very sensitive

And I AM a child.

Who am I? You may wonder.

I am someone you know very well,

For I am every man you meet and every woman you meet.

Cardinal Deardon

Touched By An Angel

 

Robin Skjoldborg

 We, unaccustomed to courage

exiles from delight

live coiled in shells of loneliness

until love leaves its high holy temple

and comes into our sight

to liberate us into life.

Love arrives

and in its train come ecstasies

old memories of pleasure

ancient histories of pain.

Yet if we are bold,

love strikes away the chains of fear

from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity

In the flush of love's light

we dare be brave

And suddenly we see

that love costs all we are

and will ever be.

Yet it is only love

which sets us free.

Maya Angelou

Let Them

Pamela Hanné

Just Let them.

If they want to choose something or someone over you, LET THEM.

If they want to go weeks without talking to you, LET THEM.

If they are okay with never seeing you, LET THEM.

If they are okay with always putting themselves first, LET THEM.

If they are showing you who they are and not what you perceived them to be, 

LET THEM

If they want to follow the crowd, LET THEM.

If they want to judge or misunderstand you, LET THEM.

If they act like they can live without you, LET THEM.

If they want to walk out of your life and leave, hold the door open, AND LET THEM

Let them lose you.

You were never theirs, because you were always your own.

So let them.

Let them show you who they truly are, not tell you.

Let them prove how worthy they are of your time.

Let them make the necessary steps to be a part of your life.

Let them earn your forgiveness.

Let them call you to talk about ordinary things.

Let them take you out on a Thursday.

Let them talk about anything and everything just because 

it's you they are talking to.

Let them have a safe place in you.

Let them see the heart in you that didn't harden.

Let them love you.

Cassie Phillips

Projector

 

Freepik

Light takes new attribute

and yet his old

glory

enchants;

not this,

not this, they say,

lord as he was of the hieratic dance,

of poetry

and majesty

and pomp,

master of shrines and gateways

and of doors,

of markets

and the cross-road

and the street;

not this,

they say;

but we say otherwise

and greet

light

in new attribute,

insidious fire;

light reasserts

his power

reclaims the lost;

in a new blaze of splendour

calls the host

to reassemble

and to readjust

all severings

and differings of thought,

all strife and strident bickering

and rest;

O fair and blest,

he strides forth young and pitiful and strong, 

a king of blazing splendour and of gold,

and all the evil

and the tyrannous wrong

that beauty suffered

finds its champion,

light

who is god

and song.

He left the place they built him

and the halls,

he strode so simply forth,

they knew him not;

no man deceived him,

no,

nor ever will,

with meagre counterfeit

of ancient rite,

he knows all hearts

and all imagining

of plot

and counterplot

and mimicry,

this measuring of beauty with a rod, 

no formula

could hold him

and no threat

recall him

who is god.

Yet he returns,

O unrecorded grace, 

over

and under

and through us 

and about;

the stage is set now

for his mighty rays;

light,

light that batters gloom,

the Pythian

lifts up a fair head

in a lowly place,

he shows his splendour

in a little room;

he says to us,

be glad

and laugh,

be gay;

I have returned

though in an evil day

you crouched despairingly

who had no shrine;

we had no temple and no temple fire 

for all these said

and mouthed

and said again;

beauty is an endighter

and is power

of city

and of soldiery

and might,

beauty is city

and the state

and dour duty,

beauty is this and this and this dull thing, 

forgetting who was king.

Yet still he moves

alert,

invidious,

this serpent creeping

and this shaft of light,

his arrows slay

and still his footsteps

dart

gold

in the market-place;

vision returns

and with new vision

fresh

hope

to the impotent;

tired feet that never knew a hill-slope 

tread

fabulous mountain sides;

worn

dusty feet

sink in soft drift of pine

needles

and anodyne

of balm and fir and myrtle-trees

and cones

drift across weary brows

and the sea-foam

marks the sea-path

where no sea ever comes;

islands arise where never islands were,

crowned with the sacred palm

or odorous cedar;

waves sparkle and delight

the weary eyes

that never saw the sun fall in the sea 

nor the bright Pleaiads rise.

H.D.

On the Pulse of Morning

 

Martin Parr

 

A Rock, A River, A Tree

Hosts to species long since departed,

Marked the mastodon,

The dinosaur, who left dried tokens

Of their sojourn here

On our planet floor,

Any broad alarm of their hastening doom

Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.

But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,

Come, you may stand upon my

Back and face your distant destiny,

But seek no haven in my shadow.

I will give you no hiding place down here.

You, created only a little lower than

The angels, have crouched too long in

The bruising darkness

Have lain too long

Face down in ignorance.

Your mouths spilling words

Armed for slaughter.

The Rock cries out to us today, you may stand upon me,

But do not hide your face.

Across the wall of the world,

A River sings a beautiful song. It says,

Come, rest here by my side.

Each of you, a bordered country,

Delicate and strangely made proud,

Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.

Your armed struggles for profit

Have left collars of waste upon

My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.

Yet today I call you to my riverside,

If you will study war no more. Come,

Clad in peace, and I will sing the songs

The Creator gave to me when I and the

Tree and the rock were one.

Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your

Brow and when you yet knew you still

Knew nothing.

The River sang and sings on.

There is a true yearning to respond to

The singing River and the wise Rock.

So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew

The African, the Native American, the Sioux,

The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek

The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheik,

The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,

The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.

They hear. They all hear

The speaking of the Tree.

They hear the first and last of every Tree

Speak to humankind today. Come to me, here beside the River.

Plant yourself beside the River.

Each of you, descendant of some passed

On traveller, has been paid for.

You, who gave me my first name, you,

Pawnee, Apache, Seneca, you

Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then

Forced on bloody feet,

Left me to the employment of

Other seekers—desperate for gain,

Starving for gold.

You, the Turk, the Arab, the Swede, the German, the Eskimo, the Scot,

You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought,

Sold, stolen, arriving on the nightmare

Praying for a dream.

Here, root yourselves beside me.

I am that Tree planted by the River,

Which will not be moved.

I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree

I am yours—your passages have been paid.

Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need

For this bright morning dawning for you.

History, despite its wrenching pain

Cannot be unlived, but if faced

With courage, need not be lived again.

Lift up your eyes upon

This day breaking for you.

Give birth again

To the dream.

Women, children, men,

Take it into the palms of your hands,

Mold it into the shape of your most

Private need. Sculpt it into

The image of your most public self.

Lift up your hearts

Each new hour holds new chances

For a new beginning.

Do not be wedded forever

To fear, yoked eternally

To brutishness.

The horizon leans forward,

Offering you space to place new steps of change.

Here, on the pulse of this fine day

You may have the courage

To look up and out and upon me, the

Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.

No less to Midas than the mendicant.

No less to you now than the mastodon then.

Here, on the pulse of this new day

You may have the grace to look up and out

And into your sister’s eyes, and into

Your brother’s face, your country

And say simply

Very simply

With hope—

Good morning.

Maya Angelou

in, ON THE PULSE OF MORNING