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live it to give it is all about love and connection. Being authentic. Living our lives and sharing it with others. Life is messy and so is this blog. Somedays my organized coach self shows up. Other days it's my vulnerable author. There's a mom that lives inside me alongside a wife, friend, social justice activist, creative muse, ponderer extraordinaire, and multitude of others. I'll introduce you to people who inspire me and offer a peek into my world that very likely intersects with your world. In other words, I will share life in its full, glorious mess with you. I'm honored you're here and I hope you'll come back soon!!  Cheers! Kayce 

 

Entries in Darkness (40)

Wednesday
Apr012009

the place in between

During this week leading up to Palm Sunday, I find myself surrounded by “the place in between.” Not dead, but not resurrected. Knowing, but encircled by mystery. Springtime – no longer winter, but the warmth of summer has not arrived. Hints of blossoming yet death still lies in my flowerbeds. Mourning a leaving and excited for new possibilities. Ending time with students – done, but not done. Living with a teenager – no longer a child and the adult has not yet emerged. Mid-life. Need I say more?

“I try to take on one day at a time, but sometimes several days attack me all at once.” Jennifer Unlimited – Hazelden

and my daily dose of Merton:

“O tongue of flame
Under the heart

Speak softly:

For love is black

Says the season.

Midnight!
Kissed with flame!

See! See!

My love is darkness!”


Would love to hear your thoughts on the place in between!

Thursday
Dec182008

more birthing going on...

Sometimes "once" is enough to get my attention and other times I have no idea how often something must be put in front of me before I notice. This time I think it was two times...maybe three. Yesterday, I read Abbey of the Arts reflection on the darkness with this poem by David Whyte. I recalled that I had seen the poem before and found that I actually had used it to write my own version. (Original post is here.)

Commenting at the Abbey, I enjoyed that little piece of serendipity. And then this morning "#2" (or is it 3?) appeared while I was visiting Zena Moon where she has another lovely poem by David Whyte posted. Hmmmm. I then noticed something in her side bar called "Women at Rest", clicked on it and voila, there was "Sweet Darkness" yet again.

So, as I sit this morning pondering not necessarily the darkness, but rather the sweet white snow falling outside my window, I offer you my words on Sweet Darkness. I am still pondering why...however, I don't really need to know the why of it, do I? Enjoy!

In Praise of Sweet Darkness

The dank, moist smell of a cave.
The skin of a snake molting away.
The rich loam of life.
Time to go into the dark where the night has eyes to recognize its own.

A mother’s womb.
One mustard seed of hope.
The blood of crucifixion.
There you can be sure you are not beyond love…

Holding & sustaining.
Nurturing & growing.
Rising from the dead.
Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn

Birth moving into new life.
The oak rising from an acorn.
Darkness giving way to light.
Anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you.

photo by lucy 12.18.08

Sunday
May042008

holding tight

“We heap on the darkness, constructing a variety of false selves. We become adept at playing games, wearing masks as if life were a masquerade party.” --Sue Monk Kidd

The young woman sat before me dressed in her work clothes of tailored black pants and crisp white shirt. Her face clean of makeup. Her eyes tired from a cold—or was it more? Her long silky hair pulled away from her face in a ponytail that was a little messy, but still very ‘together.’ She held onto herself, grasping her stomach tightly, throughout our time together. Her face turning deeper shades of red as she tried to convince me that she ‘operates best under stress.’ It was almost as if I could hear her saying, “if I just hold on tight enough, all of the emotions I feel inside will not spill out and fill this room. If I can just convince you maybe I can convince myself that everything is alright and I don’t need help.” But she did not convince me.

I could see the terror on her young face. Terror and determination as she talked of breaking away from her “controlling parents.” Parents who were concerned that she wanted to work multiple jobs while going to school and playing sports and maintaining an active social life. From what was she running? If she were to slow down, I got the sense that the feelings would drown her. Did she have that same sense? Nowhere to turn. No one to trust. A ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

She hinted of betrayal. Friends she could not trust. A young love gone bad. The fighting in her house followed by the absence of family members. “They just leave,” she said with a shrug. The themes were all over the place, but still she tried to convince me that she did not need help. She could not fit in one more thing. She could only trust herself. But, here she sat betraying herself. Pushing her body. Exhausted and worn out. Driven. Holding tight. She saw herself as moving toward something. I saw it as running away. Her attempts at security were slowly eating away at her soul.

Wednesday
Apr092008

emotional dump

warning: this is NOT a feel good post...

how long is it o.k. to stay in a funk? what is socially acceptable? personally acceptable? I feel like sh.t. my head has hurt for several days and I have felt nauseous too. if I didn’t know better, I might think I was pregnant. yikes! maybe that’s the issue. I am experiencing the pains of pregnancy and childbirth, but right now it is with nearly grown children…loss of dreams…loss of hope... when can hope return? how many times must we experience "death" so that we may be "reborn?" the dying is getting tedious. I don’t want to do it anymore. I signed up for Italy and I got Auschwitz where I am one of the "able-bodied" who must continue to work and work and work and feel the pain rather than the more swift alternative of certain death.

when does the "living death" lift? when will the clean air start to fill my lungs again? and the original question...how long is it o.k. to stay in a funk, because everyone seems to want to pull me out of it…occasionally even myself…but more than not wanting to be in a funk, I am tired of the yoyo…the pendulum…the highs are too high and the lows are too low…swimming with the dolphins…high…bitter words and stalled relationships…low…sitting on a sailboat, listening to classical music, surrounded by blue seas...high…watching your children self-destruct…low. I am tired. really sick and tired. can I pull the covers over my head and wake up in a few years like rip van winkle? is it better to just hang out at the bottom of the pendulum? numb, but safe? my friends say, “drink a margarita”. “go for a drive in the sunshine.” “don’t try so hard.” “breathe.” yea. whatever.

sorry for the funkiness...don't say i didn't warn you...where do you hang out on the pendulum?

Saturday
Jan192008

Shadows

I just lit my “candle for writing” and simultaneously I am thinking about darkness. The words ‘shadow side’ are bubbling in my head. Why do we avoid our shadow? Steer clear if we can. Think it is ‘bad.’ We hate to even acknowledge that we have a dark or shadow side to us, but guess what ...pretending it’s not there does not make it so.

Lucy Van Pelt represents my shadow side. People have come to see “My” Lucy as playful and creative rather than bossy and crabby. Is it because I do not let her ‘shadow’ side come out so much on the page? Or is it maybe things have shifted inside me as I have come to embrace what she represents?

Lucy is my inner (and outer) critic, but she also motivates me. This was a great productive and creative week for me with much of it driven by shadow and hurt. There were dark pages in my visual journal that I have not shared. And, my ‘darker’more challenging soul collage cards did not appear to be well-received (at least based on the lack of comments). Ironically, the process of making those cards helped me process some of the chaos and anxiety I was experiencing thus helping shed some light so-to-speak.

If you look closely at my collages there is always light in the ‘dark’ cards and darkness in the ‘light’ cards. (This is unintentional, by the way.) Just as initially Lucy Van Pelt was rejected by me as too crabby, bitchy & bossy, she has now become my greatest ally as I have learned to embrace her.

My greatest joys have come with much pain….(childbirth, for one.) Also, who has not experienced deep loss of some sort? If the hurt is acknowledged and processed, is there not some growth and healing that happens? Sometimes the best thing to be able to do is say, “I am sad” or “I am having a shitty week”, but in some ways I feel censored to be so honest. (My inner censor speaks loudly.)

One reader said I was in a “dark” period and subsequently quit commenting—resulting in more sadness over that loss. Others may consider overabundant joy and consecutive weeks of fabulousness to be too shallow and impossible to believe. So where is the balance? For some reason FDR's quote: “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself” comes to mind.

I need to be able to share when I am sad and when I am joyous without being afraid of the response (or lack thereof). My emotions produce great creativity from both sides. I do not believe that makes one better than the other. They are simply different, but it appears that “darkness’ is less appealing to many. It seems frightening perhaps.

The length of this post is beginning to 'frighten' me now ☺, (I do prefer shorter discourses). So, for today I am going to consider why you (I) run from the shadow side. Or maybe you don’t. Either way I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. Why do you run or avoid shadow? How do you embrace it?

Wishing you lightness in your day, so you may also see the shadows ☺. Peace.

photo by h3images

collages by lucy. see related post here.

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