Archive for love

Only Questions

Posted in Life, Past, Poetry, Present with tags , , , , , on January 4, 2013 by Shea Atkin

Sitting with no answers
Only questions of motives
And a sinking feeling in my gut–
Only though about after the alleged occurrence

Questioning what is real
And what is just perception
And aren’t both the same?

Leaves me to ask
What’s the point of all this?

A long succession of self-judged failures
Masking as a lesson
At least that is how it feels

This journey, that is supposed to be the point?

I make more mistakes than ever before
Or maybe I’m just more aware
Or maybe my position on the word mistake has changed

Wanting to escape the elusive “I am”
Hit the pause button every now and then
Longing for the easier way I had grown so accustomed

But the honest way provides no shortcuts
No escape routes
The distance is the same for everybody
That comforts
And irritates me
All at the same time

This human experience
The unpredictability of it all
The unknown
And the known
Is everything
And nothing
All at the same time

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This is trust

Posted in Life, Past, Poetry, Present with tags , , , , , , , on September 18, 2012 by Shea Atkin

That moment you can choose not to
But you do
The easier way would be to back out
But you don’t

You put yourself out there
Probably scared
But practice not contingent on the outcome

It builds
Little by little
By taking chances
Feeling the fear
And doing it anyway

By wanting something different
And risking loss
At all costs

Potentially facing
Abandonment
Heartbreak
Rejection
Punishment
Judgment

It’s that little voice inside
That yearns for something more
Than previous behavior allowed

It’s swallowing the pride
And disarming the ego
Simply because
It’s the right thing to do

It’s a shaky faith
In the midst of chaos
While knowing that

Practice

Is the only way

To strengthen

It’s that place that scares the hell out of you
While processing

And that place that you don’t yet trust
But you trust in the theory of trust
So you decide to give it a try

It’s all the things
That fear is not

And to the extent of risk
Is the capacity of
Joy
And
Sadness

All the while knowing
That if the full heart
Isn’t invested
Then what’s the point?

As I Sit.

Posted in Life, Past, Poetry, Present with tags , , , , , on August 28, 2012 by Shea Atkin

The thoughts come
And they go
Aware of the judgment
To what I deem
Good
Or
Bad
And how often that delusion keeps me
From living authentically

Recognition of existence doesn’t mean it is new
It is acceptance of what is

I choose to sit with the uncomfortable
Simply being present poses it’s own challenges
How often I want to escape…
Just because.

Most of my life was spent escaping from perception

Created delusions to justify behavior

Manipulation of facts to continue believing the lie

The judgment I sit with
Is my own
And my worst critic
Is myself

That said–
I project less on you
When I’m honest about me

Denying reality
To appear better
Only
Makes
Us
Sicker

Truth will set us free.

Again.

Posted in Life, Past, Poetry, Present with tags , , , , , , , , on October 26, 2011 by Shea Atkin

 

Futile attempts of control, result in prolonging the inevitable

Sinking into the reflection of that fine line between hope and reality

Unable to let go, until I do

 

Similar instances surface, just waiting for me to finally learn the lesson

Repeating the cycle

Continuously

Wondering why the result stays the same

 

Necessity is a tricky concept

Leaving much room for interpretation–

But checked with the right motives, the answer is undeniable

 

Truth is only visible when we choose to see it

 

Learning how to ask the right questions is sometimes harder than hearing the answer

Resonating deep within, it comes from a peaceful place

Amidst the chaos

Constant Change

Posted in Life, Past, Present with tags , , , , , , , , , , on October 4, 2011 by Shea Atkin

If I look at the span of my 31 years, the only true constant has been change.  This is completely contradictory to my natural state.  I try to find normal, only to discover that most of the time it is synonymous with complacency.  There is a fine line between stagnant and serene. 

Through these past couple of months, life has been extremely unpredictable.  If growth comes ftom pain, I must be a giant.  What I have learned about pain most recently is that it exposes areas that I can improve in.  Not necessarily by overactivity, but by allowing the process to occur without interruption.  Just letting what is, to be.  While feeling that my world is falling apart, I have a peace that transcends my day to day “crazy”.  

My default behavior is to make myself really busy so I don’t have to think about what is really happening.  In turn, I become irritable.  To stop this cycle, I choose to stop what I am doing and just sit in silence while letting my thoughts go by without judgement.  Silence can be very uncomfortable.  It means I’m alone with myself.  Scary. But, the more I practice this, the less I fear. Confronting the fear, diminishes it.

Not knowing what the future holds scares the hell out of me.  I know I just have to trust that if I do what is in front of me (not referring to the past or trying to affect the future), everything will happen naturally, organically, as it should. Allowing life to happen on life’s terms.  Sounds great in theory.  Practice is a different story entirely.  I’m doing it though.  Every day. And every day I become more grateful to be allowed to live in the moment.

I’ll continue this journey into the unknown, sometimes kicking and screaming, and sometimes serene.  The longer I live, more is revealed.  And I feel more like myself with each passing day.

Cumulative Integration

Posted in Life, Poetry, Present with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 2, 2011 by Shea Atkin

This poem was written for my Trauma Touch Therapy classmates.  Words cannot really do justice to what we experienced–but this is about as close as I can get to sharing my soul.  TTT, 2011–this one is for you.

 

Sifting through sensations to find the root that was cut off by the mind

Corporately holding space until freedom decides to surface through choice

 

Alive for the first time since the death

The core breathing in the air of acceptance

Sensing the truth which was hidden by a lie

Loving as a verb–using the definition accurately

 

Forever joined by the experience of breaking free

United as a whole–wholly

Giving ourselves permission to live–for the intended purpose we were created

 

Coming home for the first time–

And will stay here for eternity

as ONE.

Fairytale?

Posted in Life, Past, Present with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 18, 2011 by Shea Atkin

I participated in a yoga workshop with my dear friend a few months ago.  We started out with yoga, followed by a guided meditation and ended with a journal entry focused on a certain thought.  Below, I will write the thought and my journal entry about the thought:

*Don’t believe the fairytale you have created through your body.*

At a loss for word is not usually where I find myself.  This can be taken in many different ways.  Right now, my fairytale is just that–a fairytale.  Unattainable, ficticious, Pollyanna bullshit.  I never try because I don’t really believe that it is possible.  That I don’t really deserve the fairytale…I’m not good enough to wear the pretty dress and win the heart of the adoring prince.  I’m the cinderella in this distance, just dreaming–but not accepting the fairytale as potential reality.  Left with scars and memories–a window to watch the world live as I stay confined in my own little prison that I made with my own hands.  Waiting for the key to unlock and be set free, but it is already in my hand. All that needs to happen is making the decision of freedom or slavery.  No one can choose it but me.

I wear the rags as a constant reminder of the resentment against self. The riches are there, but not available until the relentless torture of self is over.  Laziness encompasses all to the point where I would like the best, but I’ll settle for the worst–because it is easy.

Sinking into nausea to escape the self absorption.  Anything to take my mind off of self. The creature that holds my thoughts captive is a reflection of self that materializes so I can embrace and accept what lies beneath the surface.

Morbidity eminent and welcomed at times to take me away from the gift of the present. Escaping the surrender that serenity has freely offered. Choosing death over life, repeatedly.

Succumbing to the lie. Evolving farther away from the truth. Trying to embrace reality on life’s terms instead of my own agenda.

Resonating from within, the sound I have been searching for has been there all along.