When you allow the tears to flow out, you’re allowing relief and hope and faith and all sorts of good things to come in.
letting go
Sylvia’s figs
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.
“From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out.
“I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
—Sylvia Plath (1932–1963), The Bell Jar, 1963
Spirited
Taste just a sliver of courage and it’s hard to go back to fear.
XXXI
My stiff-spread arms
Break into sudden gesture;
My feet seize upon the rhythm;
My hands drag it upwards:
Thus I create the dance.
I drink of the red bowl of the sunlight:
I swim through seas of rain:
I dig my toes into earth:
I taste the smack of the wind:
I am myself:
I live.
The temples of the gods are forgotten or in ruins:
Professors are still arguing about the past and the future:
I am sick of reading marginal notes on life,
I am weary of following false banners:
I desire nothing more intensely or completely than this present;
There is nothing about me you are more likely to notice than my being:
Let me therefore rejoice silently,
A golden butterfly glancing against an unflecked wall.
—John Gould Fletcher (1886–1950), “XXXI,” Irradiations, 1915
The Unripened Old
Youth fears death,
For the blossom longs to be fruit.
But the fruit that is ripened by age
Loves Autumn’s west wind
And laughs, falling…
Only the unripened old fear to go.
—James Oppenheim (1882–1932), “The Unripened Old,” War and Laughter, 1916
Golden moments
i don’t care how rough a day i had
when i see the golden hour sunset
painting the trees with happy light
and feel a cool breeze on my face—
all is suddenly and magically reset
heart and mind cleared of burdens
—so the gratitude has a place to be
Stitches & seams
I need to get over the hard times of my past. They’ve left scars, but scars are just memories.
Arise thankful
a new day doesn’t mean
forgetting yesterday
but simply letting it go
not to dwell in memories
but to cherish each one
as it pops up and surprises us
and then release it with a smile
the birds are singing of now
our hearts beat of the present
the past is a muted background
enhancing our carpe-diem lives
dawn paints the scene of today
and invites us to live beautifully
to be the artists of our own souls
Looking back at myself
i lost myself
and panicked
like a parent
who lost sight
of their child
— i looked in
all the places
i had been —
looked in all
the corners
of my soul —
it had been
so long since
i had seen
myself that
very nearly
i gave up —
but suddenly
one fall day
on passing
a mirror i saw
acceptance
in an old face
and realized
i don’t need
that little lost
girl anymore
Ten thousand fathoms deep
“You peer into my life to find a lingering past, but I tell you it was sunk ten thousand fathoms deep and weighted down with my dead self. You look into my breast to find that old, old open wound, but I tell you I seared it with my hot tears and only the cicatrix is there.”
—Muriel Strode (1875–1964), My Little Book of Prayer, 1904
Flex-ability
Sometimes you just need to be open to the universe’s alternate plans for you.
Reclamation
I tried – to marry Happiness –
but he Dumped me – at the Vows –
he sought – a Sadder Heart to lift –
and Left me – for someone Else –
so I Hitched up – with Solitude –
and Honeymooned – by Myself –
A thousand choices
Transform FEAR into —
curiosity, love, kindness, humor, hope, joy, knowledge, focus, laughter, awareness, wonder, willpower, wings, experience, faith, fervor, challenge, gratitude, encouragement, enlightenment, goodwill, action, learning, beginnings, opportunity, aim, determination, adventure, character, smiles, hard work, independence,