‘Be gentle on yourself’ she said. ‘Give yourself kindness and compassion.’
Have I forgotten what it means to be gentle on myself?
Have I tread so far from my path, from myself?
Do I know who I see in the mirror?
Is the she who I see truly me?
Life feels a lot less gentle in these current times.
I am in a room with a wise woman beckoning me to trust myself.
Have I become scared?
Are my wounds bigger than my dreams?
I am still me, of course I am. She sees me.
Why am I hiding? Who am I hiding from?
She, the wise one, my preventative health Dr.
A healer who left emergency medicine after being traumatised by bodies in crisis.
My body is a little in crisis.
Perhaps, my soul too.
I can still heal.
Life sometimes feels like a culture shock.
When did I cross the line?
The one that takes you from fearless to fearful?
The one where I see more zombies faces, and hear more zombie speak than true excitement and depth?
Today’s noise exhausts me.
The news, the celebrity culture, the striving, the begging for space.
What is it I am missing?
Where is my private world, my bubble.
The little place I can do my best from?
My best is all I’ve got, it’s enough.
Enough to not need more.
The gentle place.
The place flowing with kindness and people who care.
The place where there are no expectations, just ideas and creative flow.
The place where excitement and dreams are the rewards.
It’s a curious place that place.
It’s heartfelt and it’s supportive.
There are beautiful words and interesting stories.
Security matters but trust is the rule.
Is that place here? Where to begin again?
It is never that far away.
‘I know what I need to do’ I whispered to her after my treatment.
I’ve always known.
‘I NEED to write’.