Freedom

 Dear blog,

I realize, since my last most, my railroad one. I’ve felt as if I had not written, as rightly as I wished.

I told myself it's because I get scared of saying negative things. But I think it's more than that.

I felt the fire of my own words burning hot.

And something told me, that If I really wanted to speak the whole truth.

I would have to see more clearly.

And that if I truly loved the truth.

That I would have to say.

That I am sorry.

And so, I write again.

And say, I am sorry. Sorry to imply that my writing is not good.

I know that deep down it is.

That the words I write from my heart are gifts---lamps for me to see by.

And to say that they are anything less, is not true. For they are my word children, and I should love them. And not abandon them.

And implying that they aren’t beautiful, is very unkind to myself, and unkind to the well of inspiration from which they sprung.

I allow myself to feel what needs to be felt.

But the highest truth deserves to be seen, more than my own feelings of smallness, when old feelings bubble up.

For I feel myself, when I write.

And that is real.

That is good. And that is why I love to write. To feel me.

And anything that is small, not real, and arrogant, or controlling, or untrue would be fear. So I sit with my fear. Now. And coat it with my own seeing.

Grace.

My own inner child I have left untended, much of my life.

And the truth---I do get afraid of communicating. Afraid, because I’m scared of my own voice. Of using it wrongly. Old hurts bubble up, from times where I was shamed for being authentic, and sharing myself.

And I shan’t shame me for trying to love as best as I can.

And so, tonight. I see that this old fear comes and confuses me, at times. And is usually accompanied by huge wave of panic.

But it is an old lie. This fear. And that is the costume I wish most to leave behind.

 I would like it to be fully seen, so it never bothers me again.

And if it does. I would like to see it for what it is. But not the thing that controls me.

I look at it. And view it with compassion.

For this sorrow runs deep. So deep that sometimes my throat gets this ball in it, and it gets tight, and my jaw clenches. Trying to hold in words.

And so, I would like to forgive my voice. However it chooses to manifest.

The sound.

I am sorry. For it feels very sad, and small because it has been in a small space for a long time.

 I am sorry, for all the things I never let it say. For all the times I wished I could have said the true thing.

For all the times I didn’t raise my hand, for the times I got tongue tied, and times, when I was scared to sing.

And I feel sorrow for moments that could have been different, where I could have been brave.

But stayed small.

Had my heart been open enough to know that it can never truly be hurt.

I would have opened my heart even more.

Egos may growl.

Punish those who shine light in dark places.

Had I had enough light to see by.

I would have not been afraid.

I would ask the spirit tonight to help me understand how to communicate from my heart. And to forgive myself when I forget. To have the wisdom that comes from being like the sun, and the moon, and the stars. To shine light, because it is who we are.

To realize, that if I feel compelled to coat anything in sugar, it is only because there was so much bitterness.

Not enough sweet in the room. Not enough grace. And so I gave away as much sweetness I could, hoping someone would feel their own.

So, I shan’t shame myself for my own sweetness.

Nor call harsh my own goodness, when I could have been harsh in return.

I would like to apologize to myself, for not being there for my own  sorrow.

For not feeling fully own anger when I was not allowed.

I am sorry for my own self abandon.

For the times I didn’t hear, or listen to myself, my real self.

I’m sorry for not being able to hear that voice, over my own mind.

I’m sorry for not parenting my inner child better.

For loving my voice and allowing it as unconditionally as I did with so many others.

I’m sorry for not hearing myself out.

I’m sorry for all the times I didn’t forgive myself for feeling so much, and being overwhelmed by what I felt.

I am sorry for not seeing my own truth sooner. And loving it.

I’m sorry for calling myself hard names.

I am sorry, sorry for not knowing.

I am sorry for not freeing myself sooner, for loving myself better. Sorry for letting lies tell me who I was, and all the times I felt stuck, and alone, and couldn’t hear my own heart.

I am sorry for not empowering myself by my own truth

I’m sorry for not speaking up, showing up, and using my voice, when I should have.

I’m sorry for believing that I couldn't stand up for the truth.

For letting ego tell me that I wasn’t worthy.

For the truth is, God has given me grace, over and over, and over, and over.

My life is strewn with goodness.

And my blog, is my way of giving back a small portion of that goodness, of harvesting the best bits. To shine the light on this amazing journey for the gift that it is.

I take with gratitude whatever God gives me, sorrow or pain, or joy.

And those bright moments, and magnify them.

And that is my truth. 

And if my voice has no where to flow. And all I can do is be, and look, and give the moment a bit of presence. 

Maybe I'll understand a little, tiny bit how God must feel, watching this whole show.

So quietly. 

And so kindly.

A truth that's so powerful it speaks in the silence. 

One that you can feel when God's spirit is present.

For the truth, it sets you free.

Where the spirit of the lord is.

There is freedom.

 I pray for God's spirit to be with me always.

So that I can be free, always.

Free from fear, and lies, and anything that is not part of the highest truth in my heart.

For it is good. And I love it.