How To Be Held

Posted by Sunni on July 27, 2012 in blog, Uncategorized | 8 comments

To my dear, sweet and oh-so-treasured readers,

I am getting ready to start packing for a lovely week long un-plugged camping trip to the mountains, and I haven’t written a new post in well over a week. I’ve been sitting in the quiet of the aftermath of all this internal deep-diving and letting it soak WAY IN.  It’s so important to let these inner-knowings wash over us, to let them sink down to the bone.  To let them integrate into our BEING, so that our being can continue to be transmuted and transformed.

So I’m blowing you kisses from the wind of this quiet, and hoping that they reach you in the quiet of your own.

I am looking forward to the new awarenesses that will be surfacing while I am in the stillness of the mountains — what the wind between the trees will be whispering to me, what the birds and the crickets have to sing about.  I’ll be putting my ear to the earth, so to speak, listening to what she has to say.  I’ll be watching the cool waters of the river slide over shining stones, and listening for it’s language… translating it’s late-summer languid of joy…

and I’ll bring it back here… for you, and for me.  Okay?

Until then, I hope you’ll enjoy this poem I pulled from the archives, it has been a friend to me, and now I’m delighted to know it will be a friend to you too.  Thank you for being here, Love.
It is such goodness to share this space with you.

xo
Sunni

{think of this poem as something that the inner-you wrote to the outer-you, that’s how it was meant to be read}

_____________________

HOW TO BE HELD
_____________________

There’s an interesting thing that happens
when you finally
stop running.

the cold stone of your feet
and flailing limbs,
gets swept into my
arms

and your body softens
like that of an infant
to the warmth of
this embrace.

and I hold you,

as a glaring parade of monsters and demons
stroll through the center
square

but from this vantage point
they’ve lost their terror

and we laugh until our
bellies hurt
at how they’ve been pretending.

and still
your brave heart
asks them to come nearer

and we see that they’ve
been crying
all the while.

So we scoop them up too,

until ALL is
invited

and the Myth of
this world is

transmuted

to nothing more than
hysterical
Joy.

© 2012 Sunni Chapman