The rolling over of the months into the start of a new calendar year is an opportune time for reflection and renewal.
It marks a brand new chance to evaluate what is working in our lives and what’s not; out with the old and in with the new! The idea of new years resolutions seems to embrace the notion that positive change is ours merely for the proclaiming yet there is the very real aspect of active growth that accompanies any kind of significant personal transformation.
This subject of personal growth is an intriguing and complex concept on so many different levels.
It is the very nature of the soul to be ever fresh and dynamic and this innate tendency towards forward movement and self-evolution results in so many varied and multifarious experiences- each and every one of them personally guided by the loving direction of the Supreme Self.
Personally, I experience a lot of space for paradox within this concept; the push/pull of forces at play within myself as I move towards, yet simultaneously fight against, change. I want it, I don’t want it! When I’ve outgrown something that no longer serves me, there is a subtle energetic shift that occurs as the state of being I’ve become accustomed to now feels stale and static, distasteful, even. The conflict that often occurs for me is that while the known has become unsatisfying, the unknown holds the potential of risk and I can become stuck in fearful anticipation of change.
I’ve found that immersing myself in the state of being with wherever I am in my own personal evolution is a much more satisfying and productive place to operate from than the futile back and forth parlay between resistance and over striving. No easy task, to be sure, but from this place of being and acceptance, everything else then flows like water in the downstream current of a rushing river.
Writing poetry is oftentimes a very powerful process in which I can become more aware of, explore, get lost in, and claim the peaks and valleys of the terrain of my inner self, however very rugged, dangerous, or inglorious they may be.
While writing this poem, I found myself wanting to come to some neat outcome through it, to swim through the rapids and climb out on the other shore and bask in the warm sun of personal conclusion. In this I recognize yet another impulse to force or speed up my own growth when, perhaps, I’m not ready yet.
With this, I share a slice of my own discomfort, which, you’ll see, ends up with me in a state of hiding. As it turns out, it feels very freeing and empowering to out myself in my own game of hide and seek. Who wants to play? Ready or not, here I come!
I Want To Run
I do not like this feeling of itchiness,
I do not like this sensation of discomfort,
Right now I am not comfortable in my own skin, in my own house, relationships, or LIFE
I am irate
I WANT TO RUN!
My trigger is that of a hare’s,
Ready to spring at the slightest provocation or tremor.
To bound away at lightening speed,
Scrabbling in place for the merest of milliseconds until I am gone,
Jettisoned off into the desert scree.
Now you see me, now you don’t.
Blinded by a spray cloud of dust,
You are left spitting out harsh sand and gritty pebbles.
My frantic, powerful jackrabbit kicks
Stir up a billowing smokescreen.
That is how I would like it, at least.
For then I would be safe,
A quickly receding dot in the distance,
Camouflaged by the arid, drab landscape.
I WANT TO HIDE!
I writhe and itch
I am like a lizard or snake, discomfited in my own skin
Ready to shed I scrape myself roughly against sharp edges
With my words,
Looking for relief, I strike out blindly against those I love.
My need makes me abandon the desire for the softness of comfort and healing balms.
I don’t want soothing or healing
I am driven by a force that begs for cataclysmic rupture.
The encasement of my very self, once so warm and cozy
Is now a binding, suffocating girdle of sorts.
It doesn’t fit.
Driven by a force larger than myself,
Guided by the invisible hands of spirit, instinct.
As a snake sheds it’s old skin, leaving behind a perfect replica of it’s former self,
So do I yearn to emulate this reptilian way.
I slide seamlessly towards the dense, green underbrush.
In my new skin I will be tender and vulnerable.
Glance away with inattention for even a second,
you will be left wondering if I was here at all
The empty shell of my discarded self
The only proof of my passing through.
Under a sheltering crack in a boulder,
|Photographic Art by Brooke Shaden|
Vrinda Aguilera is a Montessori trained primary school teacher, an intuitive energy healer, a closet poet, and practitioner of bhakti-yoga. She is passionate about supporting women on their spiritual journey and is a professionally trained life-coach. She lives in rural Florida with her husband and three children where she blossoms in the experience of her own mothering. You may connect with her by e-mailing her at: firstname.lastname@example.org
~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~