Let’s Talk in the Now -Part 1

Finding the truth is the only way to move forward.

I was watching the inspirational Brenè Brown on Super Soul Sunday (my happy addiction), as usual I was moved but, this time I had a different take. She discussed how people rarely talk about their journey when they’re down, it’s after the fact; which though inspiring, often in the end, after we’ve tried following their advice or walked a similar path and failed, we are disappointed both with the world and with ourselves. It’s easier to share what we have been through when we have made it to the other side, but what about when you truly question if you’ll get there. This profoundly made me consider where I am in my life right now.

What I am realizing is that I want to talk about it now as it’s happening, to share my fear, the struggle and the triumph. In Rising Strong, Brene says we as a people look away, and sadly, it’s true. I’ve found all too often when people ask, how are you? They either don’t really want to know, or they cannot handle the reality of what you want to share. More than once when I have been going through something, someone I know will see it in me and ask how I am or if I’m okay. The response is often unsettling. More than once I have worked to put aside my lack of trust to be vulnerable, hoping to be heard. What all too often happens is quite honestly painful.

1. The person shifts subjects as you tell them that you’re struggling and moves on as if they had never asked the initial question 2. They jump in and rant how shitty the world is (and in turn tell me all their issues, often negating mine), or 3. Though well intentioned, they are determined to be hyper positive. They want to fix it, make it all better, and give me all the answers that quite honestly often there is no answer to. All of these responses tend to make me either no longer want share my actual truth or make me feel as if they don’t really want to hear it. Sadly I know that I have been this person too and I want to change.

To listen, to hear with compassion and love, that’s what I want. It’s what we all want, to be heard. It’s the person I want to be, and I’m working on it.  I’m nostalgic for my childhood and college friendships. The long nights talking about anything and everything, wholeheartedly enveloped in and committed to one another’s lives. It gets hard when we realize that most friends cannot be this for us. I have so many friends, all of whom I love dearly and many who I know love me. But this is rare.

I ask myself, what I am doing differently or wrong. Is this just the way relationships work now? Did I miss something? I certainly hope not. Perhaps we are all just afraid to share and make ourselves vulnerable in this unpredictable world. Maybe that is what this time of technology has taught us. Stay safe, type it don’t say it; read it don’t hear it. If it’s at a distance it can’t hurt me. I really do wonder. All I can do is work on me and hope that I find in myself the will and commitment to rebuild these ideals, to make such closeness real again.

Namastè

©NicholeDonjè

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Little Moments

Today I am vulnerable, so that tomorrow I will be strong.

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Namastè

©NicholeDonjè

Haiku Mondays

My call to morning:
drinking dark coffee,
listening to birds sing.

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Namastè

©NicholeDonjè

5 More Minutes

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I woke up today, did my yoga, took my shower, had my oatmeal and my luscious rich morning coffee. The air was perfect. A slight breeze wafted through the windows and the sun glared just high enough on the glass to glow but not shock my eyes. There was a healthy silence; one saturated with calming energy and a peaceful fullness.

My husband wandered in with his coffee and sat down next to me. He took a deep breath and we smiled in a silent understanding then closed our eyes for just 5 more minute before we had to start our busy days.

These are the times I acknowlege the gift of my new home, the comfort of my couch and the security I have built in my life.

Namasté

©NicholeDonjè

Quotables

“Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love,

grace, and gratitude.”

Denise Waitly

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Namastè

©NicholeDonjè

Life Poetry: 11

Southie: the protector, the defender and the neighborhood that wasn’t mine

I look out onto the street from my second floor window. I’m not quite sure what I’m looking for, but I know it’s different from what I see.

Silver Street is dirty and filled with jagged memories. There are the stairs I sit on longingly waiting for my dad to drive by. I watch the corner with an eagle eye hoping the tough girls don’t come around. The gym where the nasty boys hang out and where Atilla and Finegan (two very large and scary dogs) reign sends shivers through me. I’ve spent more time running into this house and away from the world than living in it. I’ve confronted meanness and aggression too many times, I’ve had to stand up to protect a friend only to bawl my eyes out from fear the minute I’m alone.

Yet I sit here watching – remembering the laughter, the singing, games of kickball, and the old man who comes by every day to give Rags bologna. I think about the flames breaking out from behind painted wood windows during a warehouse fire across the street that fascinated and terrified me. I’m reminded of the many special 4-leggers who have come and gone; my beautiful Vicious who wandered into our lives introducing us to love bites – gentle nibbles of gratitude on the cheek, our handsome Bruno – a stunning tramp of a Shepherd who let us adopt him for a couple of months then moved on, Medford Tom downstairs who’s wild stories of his harrowing  life scared the pants off us and his rottie Eric who stole my heart, Buffie my best friend whose belly was my pillow, and Rags – the most well lived dog I’ll ever meet- he knew more of Southie and its secrets than the many humans who live here.

I picture how beautifully Silver St. lives up to its name in a thick snowfall. The light sparkles over the uninterrupted drifts of snow covering the grittiness. There is a quiet sadness in my observations. This place is my foundation. My parents are from here, it’s in my blood. I am so different than this world. I don’t belong and I want nothing more than to leave; to run far and fast from the hardness of it. I am a stranger here and yet, it is a part of me.

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People in Their Environments 056 – South Boston 1983 by, Sage Sohier

In my search for an old photo of my hometown, I came across this picture and was immediately awed. I reached out to the photographer to tell her how much the photo moved me and reminded me of my childhood. I asked her if she knew the girls in the photo, she did not. As an artist and photographer myself, I wanted her to know she had captured something visceral for me. In the poem above I mention the “tough” girls. While this isn’t all of them, it is some of them…the actual girls! That is the corner of the street I grew up on, straight down  across from that car was my house and the fire I mention was in the warehouse the car is parked in front of. I have personally destroyed a bike and my nose on that very pole these girls are sitting behind. 

I  want to share how much a simple photo by a stranger can unexpectedly move someone even years after it is taken. I am nostalgic of the location itself, but also by the girls. These girls terrified me as a child. They were hard, mean and often cruel. Looking at them now as an adult knowing so much more about life and considering those around me,  I see their pain their longing and their dreams of escape. I see now that their anger was not at me, I just happened to be the easy target. 

I love this photo. I wish I could afford it. Its only available through a gallery for quite a hefty fee, so I will simply admire it from afar. I highly suggest looking up the artist. I am grateful to her. This photo allows me to look back at where I came from. To see the pain of my past in a new light, to see and forgive that hardness of life and to remind me of how fortunate I now am.

Namastè

Advice from a Dying 24 Year-old

“Listen to your inner voice and go with it. Some people may call you crazy, but some may even think you‘re a legend.”

I just found this on the blog of a new follower. I have never re-blogged something, however I cannot NOT re-blog this. It is everything we all need to hear. It is everything I want to be and do with this gift we call life. I hope this young man is doing well. I also hope he knows he has done what he wanted and intended to do.

Thank you MakeItUltra for sharing.

Original Link: https://redd.it/2xc947

Namaste’

The Next Phase

“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face”. Eleanor Roosevelt

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Today I am sitting here at my desk in my studio simply grateful. Grateful to all of those who have been there for me during my recovery and all of those who have reached out. It is a wonderful gift to have someone you haven’t heard from say hello and check in. Its a simple thing, but knowing that they are there and that the connection we made however long ago still exists is fulfilling.

Something that has become very clear for me in my life is that connection is imperative. I love people. The relationships I have built mean the world to me, even if time has distanced us. Everyone we create a moment with, creates meaning. It may be an acquaintance, a colleague or a friend.

It was a leap for me to share my post yesterday. I have come to realize that as much as I long to connect, I have kept so much to myself. I don’t like to share things that may seem sad or negative, so I simply don’t. When I started this blog I really wondered if I would be able to open up. I am not someone who wants to get on a pedestal about some political topic, I don’t love an argument; and lets face it that’s what most people do on the internet. What I want is a dialogue. I want to built a pathway of openness. You may ask what that means…hell if I know! All I can say is I’m working to find out and sharing my life, my art and my observances is how I feel I can.

We all have stories and experiences. I hope that somehow I might peak someone to share theirs. I don’t necessarily mean with me or the world wide web, but with someone. Being open, vulnerable and taking chances are how we face that fear Mrs. Roosevelt mentions. I myself fear vulnerability. I like to be strong, to know, and admittedly to control. Control is exhausting and lonely. What I realize now is that I was using all the wrong words. What I truly want is to be empowered, wise and collaborative. This is my next phase, this is my intention. This is where I begin again.

Namastè

 

©NicholeDonjè