Contemplating Independence

When the first one was still a baby, there was a night of unexpected fireworks that frightened him awake; it was just at the start of the first Iraqi war. As I held him and tried to comfort him, I had the full knowing that there was no actual harm or concern to accompany his fear. At that thought, I felt the presence of countless other Mama’s with their children, unknown to me and far far away. This mom could feel the exact same empathy for her baby’s fear of noises too close to home, but could not offer herself nor him the comfort of its harmlessness. And that was at the expense of my and my son’s privilege.

What is the difference between feeling your feelings fully, and making drama for the sake of feeling engaged?

It doesn’t matter if the silverware doesn’t match, but it is so much easier to pretend that it does. We have so many negativities and stories we create to make enough noise to distract us from staying embodied in what really does matter.

I am ready to be broken.  I invite the excruciating practice of staying embodied to essential truth, and also, I have little idea what that means. Yet, I am just aware enough to know that what breaks won’t be just those parts I’ve never really wanted to hold onto anyway. What is ready to be broken is also those seemingly unbreakable anchors in my psyche to which I cling so heartily, even the ones of which I am quite fond and call “mine”.

Truth is, I am ready to say “I am ready to be broken,” and naively aware that when I  am actually ready to be broken, there will be no “I” left after the process is complete.


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