To all my beautiful messes…



Life can be f***ing cruel sometimes (sorry mom, I know…I owe you a dollar).

The world’s unfairness can knock the wind out of you. Falling hard and pressing its weight heavy on your chest. Adrenaline pumping as you gasp for air. Wanting desperately to fill your lungs but being unable to grasp it, unable to grab your breath and inhale the oxygen. The moments feeling like a lifetime.  Once you catch your breath, around the corner another blow hits. Right now in the solar plexus, you hear more news that burns holes in your soul and lets the pain flood in again.

The guilt follows that pain. Like a skeleton twin, closely behind but estranged from the pain. Presenting its pompous and pretentious demenour to the pain. Making sure we know that guilt holds the cards. Guilt that makes no sense. Guilt that tells you how to act, how to feel. Guilt that manipulates your logic. Guilt that masks its self in karmic intentions. The feeling of undeserving joy because pain is happening all around you. It connects your feelings, your choices, your words to the outcomes surrounding your pain. wrapping its self around you like a tightly wound coil. Burning slowly and breaking you down.

We know no more then what our reality is, and yet we drown in the pain around us. We feel the weight of it all on us.Wanting more then anything to fix the messes that we have noticed. That we have seen created around us. Spreading our energies out, thinly and conservatively, stomaching the blows.

We pay attention to the world. We see the beauty in the sunlight,  the treasure in the dark. But we feel the pain breaking our hearts. Because we pay attention.

The cheery face we wear, hoping to allow it to mask the pain that we feel. Hoping the smile hides the loneliness that we feel for the people we miss. Praying our laughter will help us to forget how each day can be a struggle because we pay attention.

Losing our grip in a second, crumbling below the straws that broke or humped backs. Anger, frustration, sadness into the wrong directions. Spewing out like a broken hose.

Because we feel like failures for not making it better, messes for not cleaning it up. But we are not. We feel to much, hurt to much and notice to much. We are Spirited, told to dial down the passion. Told to push back the tears, carry the weight, hold our tongue. Because WE are too much.

We are not a messes, I promise you. We simply notice. We simply See.