Pushing Through: Stop
Pushing through, pushing through.
Without knowing it, without seeing it.
Pushing through, pushing through.
I did not notice until I stepped away,
And observed from the outside.
Pushing through, pushing through.
I let the tired in. The tired that was always there.
But did not let myself know about.
Pushing through, pushing through.
If you love someone,
and it hurts you,
You will learn to love yourself more.
Because then they are the teacher.
And love turns into school.
A love into a lesson,
requiring healing a wounded heart,
from long ago.
Pushing through, pushing through.
If you commit yourself to a job,
no matter the people,
no matter the mission.
If it hurts,
You will learn to love yourself more.
And wake up one day.
And put yourself before
the work.
And surprise, with the word,
resign
A powerful, vulnerable, lovely,
word.
Pushing through, pushing through.
Spending time in the thick of nature.
Working it out.
Pushing through, Pushing through.
Cuts on ankles.
Pushing through, pushing through.
I did not stop,
Pushing through.
My momentum,
Pushing through.
How do I
Stop.
Do you know how hard it was for me to stop moving?
To slow down and walk carefully?
Let myself feel the scrapes?
Lift my head up? See where I was going?
Notice if there was a better path?
A path that did not hurt.
Walk away from the person.
Resign from the job.
Take my own hand.
It was hard.
I just wanted to push through.
It was my natural urge - like an addiction.
The momentum hard to halt.
Only the warrior could stop its flow,
An old voice said,
Do not pause. Do not slow down. Do not turn back. Do not question.
Because that is how I had to do it.
At first.
When there was no room for ginger steps.
In the early years.
When there was only one pathway forward.
But not anymore.
I can stop pushing.
I can stop pushing.
walk gingerly,
walk carefully.
And
Care,
Fully,
for my,
Self.
Today I walked in nature again.
And went into the thick of it.
My fresh lesson as a badge on my shirt.
I walked gently,
sockless with my worn torn vans.
the indicator of my care,
revealing my vulnerability,
in the thick.
It required looking ahead - keeping my head up.
checking in with my self - my body.
Chanting mantra so as not to surprise the wild pigs.
I had to turn back lots of times,
and find a new path.
The act - of turning back and trying again,
trying a different way,
felt new to me.
It was slower.
It required keen observation,
and awareness,
Patience,
and when I could not see a path to the tree I wanted to get to,
for my sacred earth ceremony,
I picked a direction - the direction that appeared the clearest,
even if it seemed in the wrong direction,
and if it worked - I continued.
If I was wrong - I did not push through.
I retreated.
and found a new way.
A way that didn’t scrape,
my ankles.
my way,
to the ironwood tree,
with its long needles,
delicate fingers,
sweeping down.
Took a little longer.
there were no cuts on my ankles,
No harm to my self.
No more,
Careless,
Ness,
with my,
Self.
Caring,
Fully,
For,
My,
Self,
going forward.
And,
at the end,
covered in seeds,
of newfound knowledge,
to share,
and spread,
across the,
Earth,
so, others,
Can,
slow down and,
Care,
Fully,
with me.
