She sat in stillness, during dawn’s golden light, one hand on her heart space, and whispering softly… “My heart, my heart, what is true for me in this moment?”
It’s always a delicate pink flower..
releasing the tight grip on itself.
Opening up
and blossoming.
Every time she sees this, the bravery,
she smiles, she relaxes. She too gets a bit more brave.
Her body gives way just a little bit more,
letting go of the feeling she’s held the longest,
the tension that’s gripped her relentlessly.
The risk is too high, the risk of remaining tight.
But she must be patient, for this grip has held her tight for a lifetime.
It’s been her constant companion. It doesn’t want to leave her.
It believes that it’s keeping her safe
And she has believed this too with the familiarity of its grip.
To let go of her captor, her companion isn’t even a thought.
Yet it’s been squeezing the air and the life out of her.
Somehow, she remembers the risk and the pain of remaining tight.
Release. Release.
Release the grip, says a gentle voice.
A compassionate, caring voice, encouraging her to loosen the tension.
The compassionate voice that she’s been getting to know for some time now.
At first it was a whisper, not wanting to frighten her off. It would show up every now and again.
After some time, she began to recognise it. After a long time, she longed for it.
Now she invites it in, wholeheartedly.
It’s a friendship that has softly supported her all the while as she embarked on this new journey.
Quietly present, by her side
Always softly present. Never speaking up until spoken to it first.
Now they converse regularly
and with each word, fear has slowly lost the tightest of its clench.
The tightness that was once there has been accepted
as the beginning,
the beginning of the journey towards blossoming.
For she cannot blossome
without first being a tight bud.
With every slow breathe in
And with every slow breathe out
Compassion is there with her
Smiling with joy and delight
As she allows herself to blossome.
