The ability to alter one’ perspective – to shift certainty to openness – allows for deeper engagement, life affirming and inspirational, akin to wonder…
To deviate is to dare.
(Image my own)
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Maybe I just needed a new perspective – like the famed Hanged Man of tarot – committed to some deep, internal need, I willed a horizontal shift; landed with intent.
Maybe it is not my legs that are disabled, but a soul longing to escape the continual discord of perpetual motion, a never-ending to-do list of the success-driven persona.
Maybe there is a greater purpose for being that is not encompassed by outer drive – a mysterious meaning that is revealed only in the quiet stillness in which I now dwell.
Maybe I have been called to a personal pilgrimage – a Camino of sorts – a crusade of spirit designed to cleanse and enlighten – the journey is certainly arduous enough.
Maybe it is through acceptance, finally having released a need to control, move, achieve, accomplish that I am able to embrace the true lessons of suffering.
Maybe this cocooning is an act of Grace demanding surrender before the actual transformation occurs, and I will emerge, legless or not, winged and ready to soar.
Maybe, just maybe, this stripped down, barren existence is not a penance for shameful living, but a desert crossing, offering re-alignment: hard-fought peace.
(Maybe first appeared here Feb. 2017. Image my own)
Disability corners me twixt two directions – the hurried rush of ambition’s call and the gentle nudge of wisdom settling
Confined to four rooms I am distanced from – invisible to – the weekend warriors whose self-satisfied grimaces race by my window
I remember that push – not enough hours to the day not enough money to succeed never thin enough, fit enough always grasping for more…
Legless and exhausted, I am disqualified from competing, immersed in retrospection, luxuriating in perspective –
I’ve always had, indeed, continue to have everything I need: a home I can navigate, the endless beauty of nature and the care of loved ones.
Abundance, I’ve discovered, is attitude: recognition and acceptance that life is sufficiency
(I’ve derived this poem from a post by the same name, dated October 2014. At the time, I was five months into the losses that were Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. Image my own)
No longer a pick up for others ditched without a lifeline
***
These are but feelings I’m more comfy couch than utility vehicle and credibility – well that’s earned
Pick myself up wade through vulnerability grateful for giving hands some amends best left to the lessons gained guilt not worth the trouble.
(Much of my poetry is derived from dreamwork. Dreams use exaggeration and humour to evoke understanding. In this poem, I am able to see both at play, leading me to the more empowering response. Thanks for reading. Image my own.)
One Woman's Quest 