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Space At My Table

Some days, I feel invincible.  Like I can conquer the world.

Other days, I feel like I suck. At. Everything.

Some days, I’m sure I’ve got this parenting thing on lock down.  That mother of the year coffee mug is mine, hands down.

Other days, I want to pull my hair out.  I yell, lose my shit, and act in ways that I don’t like. That Mother of the Year mug?  Not so much..

Some days, I feel beautiful and elegant walking through the world.  Don’t mind the glow, everyone.  It’s just my radiance.

Other days, I trip over a blade of grass getting out of my car. I feel like a troll, and shoot daggers out of my eyes at everyone who is clearly MORE than me in every way possible.

Some days, I truly believe in the abundance of the universe, and that there is more than enough to go around.

Other days, I am secretly rooting for people to fail so there will be enough for me.

Some days, I know the next right thing to do, and I do it.

Other days, I know the next right thing to do, and I don’t do it.  On purpose.

Some days, I am creative and ideas just pour out of me.

Other days, I can’t seem to string two sentences together.  I have a hard time believing I’ve ever actually had an original thought in my life.

Some days, I want to be exactly who I am.

Other days, I wish I was anyone else.

Some days, I am calm, peaceful, and serene.

Other days, I listen to Nine Inch Nails as I scream in a fit of righteous rage.

Some days, I give my time and attention to others freely.

Other days, I’d rather have a root canal than engage with another human.

Some days, I am able to keep my judgements about other people in check, and extend them tremendous grace.

Other days, I flip off the idiot driver in front of me.  The one who is going 2 miles an hour just to make me even later than I already am, and is obviously too incompetent to use a turn signal.

Some days, I can go with the flow and relax into the benevolent nature of the universe.

Other days, I get anxious and want to know what’s going to happen every minute for the rest of my life and I want that to know that,  like, yesterday.

Some days, I am insecure, fearful, jealous, greedy, selfish, angry, disappointed, needy, overbearing, controlling, resistant, cranky, whiny, lazy, lonely, and embarrassed.

Other days, I am trusting, open, loving, kind, patient, confident, generous, sensitive, willing, humble, and delight in my imperfections.

Sometimes, I am all of these things in the space of the same day.  Or the same hour or the same minute.   Or in relation to the same experience.

And I am learning that there is space at my internal table for all of these parts of me.

The parts that I have deemed unloveable, unacceptable, intolerable and too disgusting to see the light of day are every bit as ME as the pieces I’m proud to display.

The more I save a place for them at the table, the more welcome they feel.

The more welcome they feel, the more they want to be fully expressed, too.

The more fully expressed and integrated they are, the more I can be the words to my own song, without waiting, hoping, expecting, or depending on someone else to write the lyrics for me.

How fucking cool is that?

Some days I find the practice of this magnificent and magical.

Other days, it’s painful and shitty.

And I’m learning that I would not trade either for the world.

 

 

 

 

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