Comfortably Uncomfortable

I am comfortably uncomfortable in this place of “knowing.”

Listening to the certainty that after a year of stasis, positive change is happening.

Trusting; comfortably uncomfortable resting in trust.

Pressing the pause button so I slowed down.  Uncomfortable as that is.

After stepping into a vortex of pushing beyond what’s healthy for me, hearing the words of lifelong friends truthfully saying to me, “you know your limitations and it’s okay.”

Knowing that it takes a long time to practice acceptance and self-compassion. That each day that I uncomfortably go there, I rewire my active lizard brain, contracted muscles, and tattered soul.

Mindfully taking the time to be active, to rest, to play, to listen, or to just be with no judgment.

I have developed a great amount of patience. I welcome the reality that right now I really do trust that all will be okay, and the season of stasis is coming to an end. And in that trust, while waiting, I am comfortably uncomfortable.

Advertisements

The angel who rests in the arms of the tree

Frozen in place by the chill of the night
the snow angel rests in the arms of the tree.

Gazing at her I wondered
Is she cold like me?
Are her insides in knots?
Does she worry if the sun will release her so she can fly away free?

Then I noticed that she was relaxed
trusting in the strength of the tree.
She lay there, face open, aimed at the sky
soaking in the beams of the sun.

I internalized how mindfully this angel rests
knowing she is protected
by the deer, the fox, and the tiger
protective and kind
gentle yet fierce.

In an awakened instant
I understood
that although she is frozen by the chill of the night
this is her time to rest.

I knew that just like the intense springtime sun
relief is actively occurring
melting my gridlocked existence of powerlessness away.

I hear in the depth of my soul, “All will be okay, soon!”

Walking away I knew that the time to trust is now
that the freedom to fly is just a snow-melt away.

Turning back to the angel who rests in the arms of the tree
I thanked her
for the gift of hope
a moment of peace
of unveiled clarity.

I think I saw the light shine brighter on her upturned face…
or was it the light shining brighter on me?

©Alexis Rose, photo: Janet Rosauer

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph      

Her Present Needed Her Past

The door heaved open
exposing the dark, dusty gloom of the past.

Walking into each room
the light began to pour in
from all the love she feels in the present.

The past and the present began to live together.

Sometimes contentious, but with a newly learned respect.

Intuitively, she knew her present needed her past
so she could learn, change and grow.

As a new season begins
she holds hands with her past, lives in the present, and rests.

©Alexis Rose, photographer: Janet Rosauer

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph