Stay
Some words for your Wednesday. Date for our next "Write Yourself Free" class.
The below words came quickly, urgently—a message for me from that bigness that lives inside of me (and you).
Though I have added or taken away a word here or there, this is a mostly unedited freewrite.
What if, when we feel restlessness/discomfort/pain/anxiety, we stopped leaving, reaching, running, numbing, explaining away?
What if we decide that it all belongs? What if rather than leaving our precious moments, we choose to stay?
PS: See below for our next “Write Yourself Free” class (for paid subscribers of my Substack page). This will be a pre-holiday sanctuary space…quiet away from the noise—two hours to cozy in with poetry, community, time to get some words on the page…no focus on “good,” just true.
I would so love to have you join me/us.
Jotting from my journal (in freewrite form today). Day #245 of (mostly unedited, mostly daily) writing/sharing
Stay
Stay. A four letter anchor. Stay with the downpour, with the relentless ache in the center of throat, chest, belly—has it ever not been there? What does it have to say? Stay with the shallow breath, the holding, the doubt, the doubt, the doubt. Stay with each word, one after another, there is no rush. Is there anything more urgently in need of attention than this moment? Stay with the urge to reach for something, something you think will relieve the restlessness, but never does. Stay with the buzzing swarming wing-flapping howling growing whimpering hissing wildness that is frantic for escape. There is a wilderness inside of you. Stay. Stay and feel every flap, every flailing failure to get somewhere else, to escape this skin. Stay. Stay with the terrible news your mom reported yesterday. She has always been gifted at reporting bad news. The struggling family members who drink drink drink, who stuff their pain down down down. The lies, the lies the lies. Stay. Stay when it gets hard—the uncle who died yesterday, the one who used to call you fatty, who hung you over the fence to the drop-off below. And things you don’t remember, things you pushed down down down. Stay. Stay with the relentless, rhythmic rain, the sky bathing everything new, washing away the dirt and dust, feeding the parched earth. Stay with the dewdrop clinging to the echinacea. Earth, feet, pen, ink, breath, rain rain rain. Stay. Stay. Stay. Empty hands of everything. Turn your palms to the open sky. Stay with this inhale. This exhale. There is nothing else. There is nothing else.
Our December Write Yourself Free class is on Thursday, December 18th from 9:00—11:00 am (PST).
This will be a special, pre-holiday class. There will be lots of poetry, an opportunity to ask me questions about my writing life, and some time to get some ink on the page.
You are invited to give your thinking/planning/gift-buying/restless mind a rest & show up as you are. Consider it a sanctuary for your tired spirt. Bring your favorite beverage, your comfiest clothes, an open mind.
Click on the below button to read more & to access the Zoom link:
Signed copies of my book Staying in Love, and signed poetry prints can be found by clicking on the below image.
Wow! So powerful!
This is such a powerful piece Julia, thank you for sharing it. I particularly resonate: "with the relentless ache in the center of throat, chest, belly—has it ever not been there? What does it have to say?" It's such a relief to know we are not alone, not the only one with these questions and feelings - thank you.