The lure of comfort is like a string

Pulling me inside-out.

It exposes my insides,

Making me vulnerable

And susceptible to the harsh winds

Of the outside world.

Every gust knocks me over

And each soft ripple

Brushes against my heart,

Stirring it

Until it dissolves.

I’ve built walls to protect

My insides –

Those squishy, malleable

Organs of life.

They guard me from feeling too deeply –

Until the clever wind

Creeps through the cracks,

And creates a wind tunnel.

Then it all bursts open

And comes pouring out,

And I’m left with the shattered pieces

Of my safe house.

I’m left to pick them up again,

Desperately trying to rebuild

What’s been lost.

 

But what if I lived

More on edge?

Not quick to anger,

But quick to action –

That same string pulling me forward,

Into life –

A visceral experience

That draws forth the

Guttural,

Wild,

Exuberant

Part of me.

What if my safe house didn’t need to exist,

Because I felt safe with myself?

What if I felt comfortable enough

In my own body,

That I didn’t need to seek

External sources of comfort?

The lure of comfort

Is what holds me back

From living life to its fullest,

From expressing my full potential.

Comfort tells me to stay complacent,

To deny the possibility

Of a more radiant,

Colorful,

And fantastical experience.

It could be dangerous,

But that rush of wind,

Standing at the edge of the cliff,

Would carry me up and out,

Into the world.

The longing wind inside

Threatens to destroy me,

To keep me wanting

With no real manifestation.

On the edge,

Something is bound to happen.

On Top
Joyful

I am always evolving –

I am not who I once was,

But I am not the final version of who I can be.

I have learned better

How to use my voice,

But sometimes it sounds too

Strong,

Hoarse,

Strained –

Or quiet.

Sometimes it doesn’t sound at all,

But it’s always there –

I can feel it –

Rippling beneath the surface,

Climbing up my lungs.

Sometimes it threatens to burst like a geyser;

Sometimes it gets stuck,

And threatens to choke me out –

But I know this is not my voice itself;

It is fear.

It is fear of being heard,

Fear of not;

It is fear of being understood,

Fear of not;

It is fear of being

Brave,

Bold,

Open,

Wild,

Sexy,

Luscious,

Alive.

Life is messy and unpredictable,

And I usually don’t know what to say –

What will get me through to the next moment,

The next phase?

It’s easier to let life pass you by,

Than it is to live it.

But which is more rewarding?

Which lets you integrate and embrace

All those parts of you?

You can only learn, grow, and change

If you keep living –

Keep using your voice.