Off the Mic

Hello, friends!

I have a confession to make.

I am not a very good listener. I like to talk more than I like to listen and wait for my turn to talk rather than processing what the other person has to say and offer.

This prevents me from gaining a lot of  wisdom that I could have captured more easily had I listened. This goes for all things. Spiritual things have to hit me like a freight train in order for me to even notice them, making a still, small voice out of the question for me. I miss out on a lot of good insights in group discussions because I’m waiting to prove my point. I don’t pay attention to nature or my surroundings because my head is in the clouds constantly. I’m not grounded in “reality”, I have no patience for it, and as such I miss the magic of the everyday.

My dad didn’t miss the magic of the everyday, he reveled in it. One of my favorite things he said was that after he prayed, he had to stop talking, take his thumb off the mic and listen. A lot of the time, there would be an answer there somewhere in his thoughts or in his surroundings. This reminds me of something that happened in 2017.

I was at an Al-Anon (the organization for families of alcoholics) meeting place waiting for the meeting to begin. I was an hour early and I started missing my dad and crying and praying. As I was praying, I saw a cat appear out of some bushes, climb up on the bench where I was sitting, and sleep next to me.


This is the cat, and to this day I don’t know his or her name. Regardless of this, this cat was the blessing I needed in that moment. I took my thumb off the mic and I listened. The universe spoke.

I’m not here to say that I should be completely silent all the time, but when the time comes, I should not check out and instead be present. A lot of the time, my own mental noise drowns out a message quicker than the noise around me. I need to work on quieting my mind and being here. It’s not easy being here, and sometimes it’s easier to just check out, especially if it’s a hard conversation. But I think the hard conversations are the ones that need presence the most. This ties into my forgetfulness, I think. If I were more present, I’d remember more.

I’m not a failure for forgetting things, I must keep telling myself. I’m where I am now, and I must keep going. I haven’t come this far just to stop. Someday I will look back on the journey I have taken and think to myself, “that’s a long path, but it was so worth it. I have learned so much. I have been though hard times, but I have risen above what was expected of me, both by myself and by others. I am unapologetically myself. Nobody can take that from me.”

I thank the universe and God for bringing me to where I am. I am here in this moment, in this meditative time. I am a channel for goodness and hope. I am a child of God and the universe, and I am worthy of a seat at the table. Time to take my thumb off the mic and listen.

Love,

Meg

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Icarus, my love

Hello!

This poetrygram was written when I didn’t have much confidence in myself.

I never expected to have confidence in myself at all. I thought for a long time that life was just a matter of existing, not living. It seemed like I had no purpose – that I was only living to keep others happy and to keep them from imploding were I to die or mentally check out for an extended period of time. I wondered if there was anything more to life than just to count the sunsets and hang on, waiting for something to happen.

I was waiting for life to happen to me. I was experiencing it passively. I didn’t take full part in it. I wasn’t an active participant in my own existence. Everything began to change when I started going down on my meds. My friends started to say that I had life in my eyes again, and that meant a lot to me. I took this selfie

awhile back and there’s so much light in my frickin’ eyes, it’s crazy. I was the most overjoyed of people. I can’t look at this picture and not smile. I had spent so long in an overmedicated haze that I didn’t know what it was like to have that kind of light there and it kind of scared me at first. But then I realized that I have a right to that light and that I was worthy to have it.

The poetrygram refers to Icarus, the boy with wax wings that flew too close to the sun and my husband both. It’s is about both of us being flawed, but in a way where both of us are able to heal from the sun and the damage that life and time have dealt to us. He’s rebuilding his wings, and my burns are healing. He is very observant and he was able to see that I was in the haze and took steps to bring me out of it.

So now my husband is beside me playing a video game and I’m taking today to plan and write the next week’s blog posts so that I’m ahead of the game. It’s gonna be difficult, but so worth it.

In the same vein of worth it, here’s another poetrygram.

I wrote this one a bit before the other one. I had even less confidence then than with the other one, and that says a lot about where I was. I thought that people needed metaphorical safety suits to deal with me, but my husband and friends have always proved me wrong. For years, I have found that the universe/God sends me people whom I need in my life or who need me. Many times it’s both. It simply goes to show that we’re all worth it.

All of us. No matter what we’re going through or how small we think we are, we are worth it. We are worth love and care and kindness, nurturing and compassion. We make an impact, whether we see it or not. Nothing happens by accident.

I’m sitting here listening to Japanese city pop as I write this and it’s damn good. Youtube brings me the best recommendations. It’s a rainy day and I think I’m letting go of my expectations for this time. I wanted to barbecue with friends, but if that doesn’t happen due to this rainstorm, I’ll be okay. I am making my own fun.

There are going to be times when I feel like Icarus, flying too close to the sun. The sea could cool me off, but then there are times I must heal, wandering around with stubs of wings and finding love and healing.

There will be times when I feel like people around me need to wear safety suits, there will be times when I get all suited up for myself and go out into the moonscape and explore. Exploring is the best.

It feels wonderful to be an active participant in my own existence. As stated above, exploring is great, and I feel like I have much exploring to do now that I’m coming out of my haze. My mental home is in serious need of redecorating, as well.

I am happy to have light back. I have heard it said that darkness can’t exist where light is, and my mind is slowly lighting up.

So to you, dear reader –

If you’re new to being happy, do your best to embrace it. You may have a long way to go until you fully can, but it will be so worth it. You are a being of infinite worth and you are so loved. Keep being bright.

Is it okay to be sad, though, especially when I’ve been happy for so long? More about that next time!

Love, Meg

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