The void

There is a cool in the whisper
A puncture that deepens
In the void
Where our feelings go
Desolation, isolation
And yet still
We fall down
Where the crevices ripen
Where thoughts are hushed
Where we are peeled to our bones
Where we are bare and waiting
For a loving touch.

https://themindsjournal.com/the-void/

 

 

 

 

 

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Let your greatest pain, be your most irresistible asset

https://themindsjournal.com/let-greatest-pain-irresistible-asset/

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Her rawness and pain is a hushed superpower.

Her aura breathes a beauty like no other.  Oozing from within is an incredible ethereal splendor that many can feel but only the special can understand.

For, you see, she is a unique patchwork of experiences, both beautiful AND dark.

Unknowingly breathing a fragile magnificence. A tantalizing mix of wisdom and desire, strength and fragility.

But, you see, she was once been broken by life. The kind of suffering that can spread through the veins to the very remotest of cores. The kind that brings a lingering sorrow deep inside and smolders living embers quietly in their tracks. It is an inaudible relentless grief that can only ever gradually fades.

But…Though once her greatest nemesis, it unwittingly, became the greatest of gifts; seeing into the eyes of others. Feeling their history, their aches, and their journey. The ability to recognise pain, yet intrinsically, exquisitely, know what lay ahead for them.

She knows their ride is only just beginning.

This gives her an authenticity, a compassion, a softness that draws others to her.

In unfolding their depths, she can feel their torment and in their darkest, in the black, ignite the impossible; the smallest of lights.

Her warmth is a glowering promise that spreads like a forest fire.

Her kindness, her compassion, one can feel, one can know, she will keep them safe.  She is the healer gifting away their pain as a baptism, the treasure chest of giving.

Because, she knows, this is the understanding of love growing. By sharing the hurt, they can rise together.

Her demons are ever present though; a torrent of inner monologues, streams of memory and pain that are overridden by an elegant softness. Providing a graceful tenderness to all that came near.

She knows about the knives in one’s skull, their veracity, the need to heal. Like a shipwrecks plaque, she knows the importance of embracing the hurt and strength in the recovering of letting go.

For even at 2am, when sleep is evasive, she concentrates her efforts on noticing the misty moon and all its genius. Even in the hail, she delights in the sting on her face. For although pain can put a cage on her mind, like the bitter wind, she knows, it is never too long before it does pass.

Much like the innocence of a child, she marvels at the reflection of jasmine in the rain pool, she makes the moon blush with her thoughts and she can dream at the promise of sunrise.

She whispers to the world all that she had lost, but in herself, her strengths, she knows what lies beneath and what can crystalize, metamorphose, if one has time to cure, if one had love, if one was temporarily carried.

So, she is true to herself.

Never forgetting the reminder of how precious life could be. Always remembering, how one’s exquisiteness is always blazing quietly, awaiting to be unearthed and reborn.

If one can believe. If one could heal. If one can know.

So, her soul always remains. Kind. Giving. Authentic.

Once broken, forever beautiful.

What is your beauty?

 

A beautiful, sad day

It was a beautiful, sad day today.

And it served as a reminder that sometimes there are no words that can adequately explain pain.

But this is not my story, just my brief experience as an outsider looking into the window of another family.

Brief as it was, it left a mark.

So I’ll explain.

It has been a rather humid summers week and we decided that we should take advantage of the weather and enjoy a family excursion to our lovely local beach.

Husband and I basked in the thrills of Master One and Miss Three frolicking on the ocean shore and collecting fish eggs and seashells for their sandcastle. When the kids started looking tired and requiring a pick me up we took them for a “special treat” – an icecream at a playground.

Since becoming a parent I’ve loved the socialisation that children gain within minutes at a park. Our bubbly Miss Three is quite the butterfly of playtime and is always quick to befriend other children and invite them to play games of hide and seek and pirates. Within seconds of arriving she was running around with young boy and a young girl, aged around three and five.

Whilst they were playing I noticed how sweet these children were to our Master One; inviting him in the cubby houses and even helping him up play equipment. Even though they could have been running off doing “bigger kid” activities they were very tender and kind to him.

I started chatting away to their Grandmother who was standing beside us and watching them play. And delightfully mentioned how inclusive her grandchildren were.

She then said something that floored me.

“It’s probably because they lost their baby brother at 7 weeks. He found him,” she said motioning towards the boy.

I was dumbfounded. My husband and I were shocked but managed to string a few petty and inadequate sentences together about how horrible that would be and the poor child.

But I couldn’t begin to imagine how a young boy would even begin processing that information.

I quietly stayed shattered on the inside at something so tragic. I’ve never liked the idea of crocodile tears as this was a family’s story I knew nothing about. But since becoming a parent my empathy meter has quadrupled and instantly my heart ached for this little boy finding his baby brother forever sleeping. I blinked a few tears away.

We continued chatting whilst the kids played together, ours, oblivious to such tragedy.

It seems nothing I could write could possibly explain the complexities of grief this family was experiencing. But without knowing what the Grandmother just told me, we would never have known.

I guess none of us ever really know what each other is experiencing.

As I write this a summer storm has just dramatically started.

I’ll hug my children extra hard tonight.