just a smidgen

My House of Belonging

being alone

can bring with it the sensibility

that one

is

somehow lacking

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that one has

somehow failed

if not racing off to some heady experience

or cycling through a myriad of social appearances

each day

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i have felt such

urgency

and pressure

to get out there

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being alone

has

of late-

marched through this house to the cadence

of the damn clock’s metronome,

announcing that time is scarce

and that i needed to undertake

some sort of purposeful plan or

strategy

IMG_7877only

just today…

i remembered

a poem

first read when this

solo journey

began

IMG_7882and so i chose to do something new, completely ordinary

and entirely self-indulgent-

i dropped everything, locked the doors,

pulled on soft jeans,

curled up on my bed in the afternoon sun

with cushy pillows under my head..

and read

poetry

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the gift of David Whyte’s words brought me back to my inner sanctuary

where joy flows through me alongside his words on the page,

through poems written and those of my own waiting to be marked down on paper

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for the first time in months

i no longer fear

being alone

in fact,

i cherish it

because it has finally become aligned

with my

essential self

i found peace today at long last

and so here, my beloved readers, is the poem that transformed me today-

The House of Belonging

I awoke
this morning
in the gold light
turning this way
and that

thinking for
a moment
it was one
day
like any other

But
the veil had gone
from my
darkened heart
and
I thought

it must have been the quiet
candlelight
that filled my room

it must have been
the first easy rhythm
with which I breathed
myself to sleep,

it must have been
the prayer I said
speaking to the otherness
of the night.

And
I thought
this is the good day
you could
meet your love

this is the black day
someone close
to you could die.

This is the day
you realize
how easily the thread
is broken between this world
and the next

and I found myself
sitting up
in the quiet pathway
of light,

the tawny
close grained cedar
burning round
me like fire
and all the angels of this housely
heaven ascending
through the first
roof of light
the sun has made.

This is the bright home
in which I live,
this is where
I ask
my friends
to come,
this is where I want
to love all the things
it has taken me so long
to learn to love.

This is the temple
of my adult aloneness
and I belong
to that aloneness
as I belong in my life.

There is no house
like the house of belonging.

-David Whyte

David Whyte’s poetry has carried me through so many stages in my journey. I promise you that you will connect to his words on a level like no other. Clicking this link will bring you to his website where you can order his books and find truth, beauty and peace. I hope he will forgive me my blatant disregard for copyright laws. I wasn’t too certain how to obtain permission to print it here. But it helped me make too lovely and profound a shift in my life today not to share it with you.

Love,

Smidge

This space holds words of love written just for you. Here you'll find the faces of creativity, beauty, love, kindness, abundance, receptivity and and a flourishing search for joy ♥
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