Thursday, September 27, 2012


I operate from the assumption (hard-won lesson) that all feelings are normal and natural.  They deserve to be noticed, not judged.

When I share my thoughts and feelings, lay myself bare, I just wanna be heard, understood and accepted (feel felt).

It means I have the ovaries to be real - no pretense, not trying to be cool (because I am cool - got nothing to prove).

I don't wanna be judged, questioned/interrogated, fixed, dismissed, minimized, pathologized, told that I'm wrong, lectured, etc.

Feelings are ephemeral, they too shall pass.  So I acknowledge them.

When we don't acknowledge our feelings or the feelings of others, it signals to me that somewhere, somehow we learned to stuff, deny, ignore, intellectualize them, see them as weak, steamroll over them.

I've worked really hard to stop doing that.  I wanna be seen, understood and accepted.  I start by doing this for myself.

Rumi's poem the The Guest House says it all...

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

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