BUTTERFLY

Maya Angelou's story resonates in my Heart.  Too many of us have experienced the heavy burden of sexual abuse and rape. Too many.  The aftermath of shame and grief can tear holes in our bodies and wreak havoc in our lives. But there is hope. I want to take this opportunity to share a poem that I recently wrote during my morning Sadhana, or yoga practice. Following the poem, I have posted a very powerful short film that has given me GREAT inspiration as well.  I hope these little gifts spread some Light into your day. You are not alone. We are in this together, as One.

THE BUTTERFLY

The importance of safety is oftentimes underestimated.

A place to call home, where you can rest your head happily, is so often taken for granted.

When her every waking moment is filled with fear, a child will grow weary and apathetic from the pain. Overstimulated and misunderstood, she will hide away inside, waiting for someone to find her there.

Curled up in a ball, she will continue to contract until the energy is so potent, it can no longer be contained. 

Rage. 

Screaming on top of her lungs, lashing out at all the things that trigger any shame, she is a fire ball of energy. Uncontainable and dangerous to herSelf and others, searching for the safety of control.

If she could only grip the reigns tight enough, there would be nothing left to fear.

If she is lucky, the girl will soon realize that control is a mere illusion. Releasing her grip, she will slowly unravel, softening into the deep sorrow she holds inside.

Like a caterpillar spinning its cocoon, she will create a soft space for herSelf to sleep in. Weeping and shedding, she comforts herSelf as no one has before. 

A glimpse of safety returns to her Heart and the energy of Love expands throughout every cell.

The more she Loves, the safer she feels and the stronger she becomes.

Stronger still, this Love is extended to those around her. Forgiving, accepting, and surrendering to all that is.

The Light, so bright, saturates every aspect of her now, and she becomes the safety she has longed for so many times before.

Fully transformed, the Butterfly emerges. 

Ready to fly.

Safely.

Home.

"Still I Rise": From the Very Beginnings

In these past few weeks I have been reminded over and over again of the power of the arts in the face of despondency. Literature, music, dance, you name it, it all has the power to evoke the deepest of human emotions. Lately I have sought out the types of art that stir the heart, or rather, MY heart, since it has needed a bit of a jumpstart of late. And since like attracts like, I have had those around me reach out in need of a jumpstart as well. My high school students, my friends, my colleagues, and my loved ones have all felt a sort of collective malaise seep into their bones.

Maya Angelou has always been a source of inspiration for me, and her poem "Still I Rise" has held juicy fruits of empowerment, heavy on the bough, each time I read during different times of my life. Any student or lover of literature has seen numerous videos and interviews with the late, great Angelou over the course of studying or even enjoying her. Until last week, however, I had not seen this particular video. I was humbled by her resilience and how, phoenix-like, she rose from the ashes of childhood rape and triumphed through her muteness, to become the sheer force of strength, a champion for humanity, and the literary queen she was for years and years afterwards.

As we travel through both our jubilations as well as our hardships, but also look to simultaneously lift each other up, may we find the ability to empathize, empower,  and enlighten each other to the power of the arts and their ability to communicate love for ourselves and our fellow humans. May this poem inspire our blog as we work to enhance each other's daily lives with love. Please leave your comments below.

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops.

Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame

I rise

Up from a past that's rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.