Evening Meditation: of thistle + fools, tenderness is a holy fire (a salvaged letter)

[ * hi there – I’ve got some old posts and pieces to share here, items that were previously published from my blogs of old. Salvaged, dusted off and shined up just for you.  And like you, I’m a multi-faceted jewel with many sides; these old ‘letters’ reflect how I’ve searched to find my voice & take my stand over the years. Rough, delicate, emotional and filled with clarity. Enjoy. ]


Earthy. Kind. Compassionate. Sweet. Patient (?!). Humble. Thoughtful. Delicate.

These are words that have often been used to describe me. It was hard for me to relate to them, usually – and produced an unsettling feeling, like looking in a mirror and seeing someone else’s face.

Inside, I often have felt none of these things. Something in me would curl up and sit on the rug, waiting for direction. Many times I have felt incapable of these behaviors. The critic inside my head smashed the gavel down again and again, “You are not worthy!” of expressing these sentiments in my life. If I could not experience them, learn to embrace them, how could I possibly share them with others? I felt hidden in plain sight, never seen by those who saw only the sweetness.

Hiding in my hand was rock candy, thorny thistle. Dark bitter chocolate. I grew small. I bent and twisted my growth so that I might keep my fists tight and not lose the gifts.

Intense. Tenacious. Driven. Inspiring. Brave. Regal. Passionate.

This was my core. This was my Self. Cells in my body sang and pulsed when I felt these emotions, these ways of Being.

And yet, I returned again and again to the tender sentiments that have always been so elusive. How could that which is within, be so well hidden from what is shown without? I have always had a level of self-awareness; but I am a Fool, foremost. I see now, how my roots cringed in the dark humus from the moonlight I walked in.

How lovely my hands had grown, slowly forced open. Cupped in reverence they hold far more. The rug was a vehicle, a comfort and place of solace. In fullness, I embrace all that I am and all that I offer. Revealed for all to see in my heart, I am forest honey, thistle-down, honeysuckle milk, a single strand of spider’s silk…

Come the fires of tenderness, I see Who I Am illuminated – I am all these things and so much more. I am blessed. I am complex. Dynamic. Paradox.

I am Woman. Mother. Warrior. Lover. Divine. Human. Ever born, always dying.

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This entry was posted in Passionate Equanimity, Tales of a Magical Life and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Evening Meditation: of thistle + fools, tenderness is a holy fire (a salvaged letter)

  1. kimberely says:

    >Aw, stop! Thank you. Honey in the heart, K

  2. >Beautiful words, wonderfully woven; what a blessing you are on this world.

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