Humility

Humility

There are moments when your heart cracks wide open … when you’re humbled by the tender beauty another offers from theirs, without attachment.

There are moments when you taste hope peeking between the crevice of old wounds, a seed of restoration, a bright light holding tender aches you’ve long carried.

Tonight, I bow my head to the grace that fills others as they kneel before their truth, surrendering to what is real, unafraid to swim in the Unknown.

What a beautiful offering we give one another — to ourselves, to even the world — when our lips tremble, yet still speak.

What a gift it is to say:

I’m sorry.

I was wrong.

Misaligned.

Please forgive me.

There is gentleness, a soft kiss of Love, within the center of humility, illuminating a strength that penetrates any guarded heart.

And for this, tonight, I give thanks.

On Healing Ourselves + the World

On Healing Ourselves + the World

Chances are – the sensitive soul you are – you’re feeling the heaviness of what’s going on in the world.

We are in the midst of turbulent times.
Countries are aching.
Families are aching.
Communities are crying out to be seen, to be recognized as equal, to feel free.

As an empath, one of the things that’s been a challenge for me is learning how to discern whether what I’m feeling is mine, or someone else’s…

I imagine you can relate.

While our collective is in pain, many individuals are finding a mirror between the anguish and disconnect seen in the world and the disconnect felt within themselves.They are excavating the depths of their hearts and recognizing old patterns that no longer serve them.

This isn’t easy work. It takes courage, tenacity, and resilience.

During times of chaos, we can feel more tender, more vulnerable than usual. We can feel the world and our inner heart swinging on a pendulum. It takes practice to come still, find our center, and listen into what is true.

…And the truth is:
We all want to belong.
We all want to feel we matter.
We all want to sense the connection of Oneness.

It takes finding our connection to self, first. This means feeling the depths of our emotions: the not-so-pretty, the drop-you-to-your-knees feelings … and the elation and ecstasy that comes with being human.

All.Of. It. Without hiding.

Recently, I came to remember an old, personal trauma. Feeling the cracks and crevices of it – really facing it and feeling it – has been one of the most raw and loving things I’ve ever done for myself.

Being committed to experiencing memory that I’ve held onto in my body (it does get encoded in our bodies), and unraveling it from the intention of understanding patterns and choices in my life and loving myself from that place, has made for a more graceful healing.

This is the crux of being present.

Imagine how our world and our communities could shift if we started becoming present with ourselves.

Instead of reacting, we stop and feel into our bodies, connecting into what is actually true.

…Imagine if leaders of nations did this.
…Imagine if we each had the courage to feel our humanness – with compassionate love.

We start there.
We start with self-honor.
We start with not abandoning ourselves.
We start with not rejecting, judging, and ridiculing our perceived “weakness” and vulnerabilities.
We start with giving a voice to the unspoken parts of ourselves, silently screaming in plain view.

From there, we can begin to do the same with others. Honor them. Honor the parts we judge in them. The differences. The parts that make us uncomfortable. Maybe we can heal the world this way.

The other day, this poem came through me as I was sitting with all that has transpired in my life and with what’s going on globally. It is my hope that it offers you some love and peace.

 

 Find the center of mourning.
Gently press your palm upon it.
Hear its sharp rhythm,
its slicing moan,
its cry of release –…even when you feel the scrape of humanity
etching hurt across division lines;
…even when your body reveals
fallow aches,
secrets buried in plain view:

Stay Here.
There’s no hiding.

Wrap your gasp of
nauseous recognition,
the cold flood of truth
(chiseled on your bones)
in self-honor.

Then…
Find the center of mourning.
Gently press your palm upon it.
Feel the tenderness of raw presence
bring you home.
©becky cavender, 2016

So much love to you.
A Love Song to Essence

A Love Song to Essence

To: All of you who have forgotten who you really are. So much love to you.

Come sit with me.
There.
Across the fire.
Shhh.
Come sit with me.

Let me gaze into you.
Let me breathe you in.
Let me see your flame rising,
engulfing you in the light of Love.

I feel your luminous reflections rippling out to sea.
Like the tide, they return,
beckoning you,
licking the ankles of your soul’s shore:

See me.
See me.
Please…
See me.

It is time to remember.
It is time to fuel the consumption of desire.
It is time to witness the crystal heart of illumination in the center of your chest,
calling you home.

Come home.

Breathe.
Stay with me.
Let the fire between us become us.
Let it burn away the facade: your hiding places, your distant lines.
Shhh.
Come closer.

The embers glow upon your face.
The crackling sparks cascade down your arms,
lighting up the stars, the mysteries, the stories you carry.

Free of illusions, of fear, of holding back:

You are a bright sky of luminescent Love.
You are the golden, open palm
radiating,
radiating,
radiating
a whirling stillness within the sanctity of who you are.

I see:
Your staff of resonant, vibrational love standing within your spine,
a pointed sword of truth, the sharp strength of loving discernment:               I see you:

Vertical Queen,
expansive as an echoed horizon,
spinning your ecstatic magic,
your gifts of words and sound,
of music and laughter,
of touch that heals.
An ancient cosmic light-dance of Love.

I
see
you.

Recognize this power: the flames of your existence, burning you whole.
Your solar rays, electrified in the rhythm of honor.
The drum beats of grace.
The pulsation of bliss.
The liberation of Essence.

You are here now.
You are home.
You are here now.

Come.
Sit with me.
Across this fire,
within this fire,
inside this fire,
becoming this fire.
Shhh.
Come.

©becky cavender, 2016
{Artist Unknown – sourced from Pinterest}

 

On My Birthday

On My Birthday

In less than an hour it will be my birthday. My 42nd time around the sun.

Before the day gently folds into the next, I’m finding a tender moment of reflection.

…I’m listening to what my heart wants from me this year: A bit more grace. A little more kindness. Space to breathe between the lightning bolts of intensity. Burning all the ways I hide in plain view. Allowing for the ecstasy of life to surge through me while honoring the times I need the sanctity of a quiet hush.

This year, as a dear friend said: it’s time to become comfortable being uncomfortable, to accept the parts of me that are paradoxical … and trust me: there are quite a few of them.

I have judged myself – often harshly – for being traditional and untethered; wild, yet rooted; distant and then present; lovingly open and withdrawn; generous yet self-absorbed; unattached to outcome, fully surrendered to the moment (or a relationship) and occasionally completely attached, full of expectations.

But … Life wants us to love ourselves regardless. Even the messy, complex, unsavory, shadowy, human parts.

So this year, I will attempt to gracefully accept who I am right now. Imperfections and all.

Maybe it’s not our “Divine” and “Light” parts of ourselves that make us luminous and radiant … perhaps its the raw edge of our humanness, embraced with love.

Here’s to your imperfect beauty, your perfectly imperfect human-ness.

New Year’s Eve Love Letter

New Year’s Eve Love Letter

Dearest You,

…Yes, you.

In two hours, the doors will gently close on this year, allowing the space for the next to ease in.

I don’t need fireworks or the pop of fizzing champagne tonight. My year doesn’t need to go out with a “bang.”

It wants to burn low to the ashes and dissolve into the crystal snow outside my window.

It wants to be a gracious host and sweetly dim the lights, letting me know it’s time to leave. It feels the story is over; it’s time for the next one to begin.

I want this next year to gently arrive like the tender elegance of fingertips tracing my palm.

I want it to feel like a graceful sway of Love beckoning me closer … alluring, enchanting.

I want to be seduced by the new year, then held in a cherished, spacious embrace.

Let’s slip into a sense of adoration.

Let’s see the divine beauty in stillness.

Let’s feel the stars kiss our hair.

Dearest you … I want to see how you write this next year of your life.

What will your chapters hold? Which lines of poetry will you sing?

How will you love?

May you be filled with an abundance of what you desire.

May you light the inner fire of your spirit.

May you be who you truly are.

…until next year…

This is Not Your Average Break-Up Letter

This is Not Your Average Break-Up Letter


Dearest You,It’s been awhile since we’ve talked. Really talked.

I wish we could sit in that café where we shared a loveseat; I rested my head upon your wide shoulders and you slowly inhaled the scent of my hair, kissing the top of my head.

Or we could meet in my car where I’d feel your strong hands wrapped in mine, your lips pressed against them.

If we were in your bed, I’d savor one last time the weight of your thick legs curled around mine, nose buried in my neck, chills cascading down my back.

Mostly, I wish we were on my sofa – where you said you loved me – so we could breathe in this moment of truth.

I’d look into your unsteady eyes, hoping you’d see my heart.

But you are in another state.
Across town.
On a business trip.
Picking out furniture with your new girlfriend.
Planting seeds to harvest with other women.
Fishing.
Holding her.
In a bar at 2 a.m., asking to come over.

****

You know I write to process, to navigate the unknown and become clear.

It’s how I face myself.
It’s how I face the truth.
It’s how I’m facing you.

My words are all I have to give you.

***

It seems only fair to let you know that the stories I’ve written in my life are changing.
The plot.
The patterns.
The characters.

You.

Stepping back, I see the similarities.

In each of you, I see the intricate ways you intersect in my heart with common themes of inconsistency, unavailability, and dishonesty all woven together with patches of vibrant beauty and moments of tender sincerity. None of it black and white.

It’s an artful, literary display of lessons spread across faces, across years.

Each of you etched upon my skin a powerful, repetitive myth.

One I am done with.

***

My whole being aches for a new story.

It is time to feel the steady pulse of my worth.

I am ready to consciously dream new patterns into creation.

I will weave words of golden flowers along my spine.

I will spin all your patchwork lessons into a delicate crown and place it upon my head.

In this story, I choose nothing less than love.

In this story, I choose me.

***

If you’re brave, come sit with me.

Feel my warm palms against your cheeks.

Hear me say that I love your wild, red flamed spirit; your blue throated wisdom; your radiant sun of a soul. This is how I saw you: the real you, your true essence.

Now, too, I see the tempered version of this you choose to be … and the dulled version I chose to be with you.

Feel my hands slowly leave your face.

Be well. Be happy. I wish for you all that you need.

…It’s time for me to go.

I have a new story to write.