breakthrough.
The latest class of VerbTribe just ended. This week, I will feature on 37days the writing of VerbTribe members in this most recent class. These excerpts are in response to daily prompts the class provides, and I hope you will appreciate the voices of these writers. If you’re interested in becoming a VerbTribe member, go here for more information on the next class that begins January 3, 2013.
Breakthrough
-Sarah Salo
Something is starting to line up. To fall into place. Thunk.
When you put yourself out there, you do get it back.
When fear is faced, or least ignored, there are openings. People make offerings. Doors are opened. Minds are expanded – even blown.
New ways of seeing are revealed. Eye holes and ear holes are redesigned and realigned. Letting in ideas and possibilities not imagined before.
Emotions are brought to the surface – heaving, creaking and birthing themselves – ready, finally, to be recognized and honored. An overwhelming sense of yes. Of Holy Shit, Yes!
A sense of awakening – part BAM! – where there was once fog and darkness, now there is light and glorious, raucous noise. Part liquid, melty sweet stretching into the slowly growing warmth that is a new morning.
MY morning. MY dawn. MY time. To rise and shine. Grow, go and glow. Up and at ’em. About friggin’ time.
Soul sisters. Pack. Tribe. “Like minded-individuals” doesn’t begin to do it justice.
Roots – tangled and deep. Connection to one another. Across miles. Across generations. Against all odds.
We are all here together at this moment, this shining, unbelievable moment. Sharing. Vulnerable. Trusting. And we will never be the same. Never.
Your stories will stay with me. Your words echo in my head – sustaining me, carrying me, supporting me. I feel cradling, women-hands under me like a wave – bobbing and rocking me in the rhythm of womanhood – writer-hood.
Sustaining one another. Feeding one another.
Each rocking to our own internal song, but somehow all moving as one – picking up each other’s tempos and bringing out the music in one another.
We offer our most personal stories. Deepest secrets. Fears. Desires and fragile hopes. Newborn, trusting.
Telling ourselves we don’t care what others think, yet purring under the hand that offers the slightest attention/praise. Rubbing against it, seeking more.
Craving the next kind word and breaking down in tears when it comes because kindness shouldn’t hurt and make you feel this vulnerable.
That’s when you realize your well has been empty – bone dry. Beyond drought. Like an innocent child turning toward mother, you are home.
After all this time and tears and miles of uncertainty, you are finally home.
(image from here)
