Rest.

She stood over my bed.

Rest, she said.

Fear and doubt and pain and loss and anger and mindless distraction are circling, wheeling, keening, forcing, whispering, coercing.

Turning, craning their necks to see what’s coming, turning my hands to the next thing to do, following me around, filling my head, speaking my words, straining my eyes, drilling my mind with their lies, their dirty, sneaky, manipulative lies. 

Rest, she said.

They screeched their protests of time, lists, logic, they clawed with sneering judgement.

Five minutes, she said.

Fuck you, they said.

She sighed and stroked my head with such tenderness that I almost fell into the warmth of her eyes, the tenderness of her wisdom, the compassion, the softness, the gentle, easy love of her presence. 

Before I remembered all the things I had to do and that no amount of that airy-fairy bullshit was going to get the bills paid so I stormed out into my day, screaming, crying, fighting, hurting, losing, falling, forcing my will on the world. Hurting hurting hurting hurting hurting hurting hurting hurting.

---

Oh love. Oh my gentle love.

So what do I do now?

Let the gentle breeze of life go through me

Just breath

Wait

Feel into the wisdom of my bones

Have the courage to be kind to myself

Sigh. Deeply.

Touch myself with loving hands

Stare at the trees. The intricate pattering of a birds’ feathers

Lie in the sun

Feel my heart beat beneath my hands

Hold my own hand

Hum

Close my eyes and know I am safe in this moment right now

I am safe

I am safe

I am safe

I am safe