There’s so much I want to say. So much I could say about friendship, and belonging, and how care (or the absence of it) feels deep in the center of my being. About feeling dehumanized so often. Objectified. Plunked into the fantasies and projections of men who said they loved me but didn’t show me care.
I could talk about how my ache for belonging has led me to saying yes when I knew it should be a “no”. About how finding the courage to finally say “no” meant being cast out. Shut out. (Or worse.)
About how that makes me not trust anyone, especially myself.
I will write about those things and more. I know there are others who need to these stories but today, just for today, I’ll linger on the sweet sustenance of this poem by Hafiz and just let my heart rest deep inside my animal body.
“All the Hemispheres
Leave the familiar for a while.
Let your senses and bodies stretch out
Like a welcomed season
Onto the meadow and shores and hills.
Open up to the Roof.
Make a new watermark on your excitement
Like a blooming night flower,
Bestow your vital fragrance of happiness
Upon our intimate assembly.
Change rooms in your mind for a day.
All the hemispheres in existence
Lie beside an equator
In your heart.
In your thousand other forms
As you mount the hidden tide and travel
All the hemispheres in heaven
Are sitting around a fire
While stitching themselves together
Into the Great Circle inside of
Update: After I wrote this, I went to yoga with one of my favorite teachers, Ashley. At the end of class, she put my head in her hands and gently said, “I’ve got you girl.” Quiet tears rolled down my cheeks.
Trust is earned but we have to remember to open to it. Opening…