Cristen Rodgers's Blog, page 12

Swim Through the Pain

I didn’t find my way back with grace but with grit – one day, one second, one fear, one tear, one storm at a time.

I stumbled along, dragging the tattered scraps of dreams behind me – pleading, bleeding, and breathing in rhyme.

At times it seemed the world was being washed away in a biblical flood, so blinded was I in my own storm of tears;

At others it was just me – alone, with no home, trembling down to the bone – so haunted was I by unsuppressed fears.

I clutched the conviction that hope follows the storm, until my heart ripped, mind atrophied, and fingers bled;

I denied the inveterate sense that the best was already behind me, and that the promise of pleasure was dead.

Though I tried to abide by what this philosophy implied, and to give meaning to the tears that I cried,

I couldn’t force the sun to rise because, while being denied, the midnight inside just wouldn’t subside.

I tried to control the chaos, to hide the hurt, to force the wounds to heal, but kept repeating the same refrain

until all I could do was cling to the life preserver of hope, take a deep breath, and swim through the pain.

© 2018 Cristen Rodgers

One of Those Days

In that moment, she decided that never again would she wake up a slave to the remnants of days before. From then on, she would start her days with the simplest of affirmations. Each morning, she would close her eyes, take a deep breath, and feel her way to the complete conviction that today is going to be one of those days.

One of those days when you’d swear that sunrise came just a little late, when you wake up rested and step sprightly into your morning routine. One of those days when the wind blows in just the right way, reminding you to relax a bit and go with the flow as it gently tassels your hair. The kind of day where the solutions to yesterday’s problems come effortlessly and with such ease that you can’t help but marvel at the way that new eyes can so easily wean simplicity out of the confounding and complex.

From that very moment on, she would take the time every morning to adjust her resonance until it aligns with that conviction. The conviction that today is going to be one of those days that feels like a river current, carrying her to precisely the right place at exactly the right time – when her heart and mind are as balanced and synched as the sun and moon in the sky, when she knows with a certainty that defies traditional understanding that her power to create is as broad as her capacity to dream.

From that moment, she took control of her life. She stole her mind back from the pages of yesterday’s story and applied it to the writing of something new, she let her heart expand, and released her creative genius from its timid cage.

From that moment on, she knew that it was up to her and her alone. She knew that everyday could be like a crisp autumn morning or a mild afternoon in spring, when anything seems possible because the feeling of change is so heavy on the air. From that moment she knew. She knew that, if she so decided, every single day could be so much more. She knew that every single day could be one of those days.

© 2018 Cristen Rodgers

Built of Something Different

Some of us are built of something different. Some of us need to be uprooted in order to grow. We have to deliberately let go of everything that grounds us, that shelters us, that defines and confines what’s real. Some of us have to burn, to break, to jump, to implode – because in that moment of disorientation, disintegration, disconcertion we completely rediscover ourselves. Freed from the shackles of what we claim for comfort and from the perceptions that keep things safely the same, we can restructure ourselves in new and unforeseen ways. From scattered dust, we are reborn as the creators of ourselves, tackling lifetimes of learning and transmuting ages of pain in a few short spins of the sun.

Some of us are born to seek, to find the truth, to become lucid dreamers, to know our strength; and so we are also built to withstand the pressure of being shaken, thrown, humbled, and undone. We are often born into adversity, into challenging places and times, or to circumstances that place us outside of the box so we can learn courage and develop the strength we’ll need for the unravelings to come.

We are the outcasts and the loners, the awkward, eccentric, and nonconformists. We question the norm, challenge the status quo, look for the underlying reasons, and seek the truth; and so we find it hard to settle in to standard roles or to accept antiquated beliefs. Often, we are mocked, ridiculed, judged, and abandoned by our society as we work behind the scenes to heal the very types of pain we have attracted. Other times, we act as human catalysts, shocking and mesmerizing our peers with new worlds and foreign ideas from the start.

To the innocent observer, we may appear to be broken, adrift, without structure or purpose, lonely, or lost – but we know our personal irony is that our wholeness, our purpose, our direction, and our connections come from accepting all of the above. It is our wildness that makes us grounded, our freedom that gives us purpose, and our brokenness that gives us strength. We seek and we find the truth of our souls, accepting both the shadow and the light; and we tease that truth from others simply by embracing it within ourselves.

It might seem unfair to those we must leave behind each time our hearts break open, minds rewire, and worlds turn, but deep inside we know that it’s all a part of the plan. In our hearts we know that our own courage, struggle, and growth frees others to question, seek, and grow.

We are made of something different, and so we are hard to hold on to. We expect more, we dig deeper, we expose all, and we answer only to our own souls. We may be difficult to catalogue, to discipline, to contain – but if we choose to dance with you for even a short while, it’s almost certain that we will dance with a sort of sincerity, passion, and purpose that will leave us both completely changed.

© 2018 Cristen Rodgers

It Doesn’t Matter

The truth is that very little of it really matters. In the end, it doesn’t matter whether it’s labeled a failure or success. It doesn’t matter if they turned out to be trustworthy or they burned you the minute your back was turned. It doesn’t even matter what you managed to hold on to versus what you let slip away. It doesn’t matter how you looked, what they thought, or how it turned out. It doesn’t really matter. At least not to the extent that you think it does.

It seems like it matters. It seems like it matters so much that you industriously carry the weight of it every day – the weight of your worries, your distractions, your masks, your plans, all of the busyness that comes from trying to bend a yet-to-be-known future to your present day will, to make sure it all turns out ‘alright’. It seems like it matters, but it doesn’t.

If you take an honest look at days long past, you’ll see it too. After the dust has settled and the characters have grown, after the lessons are learned and the moments past, what really matters has very little to do with the story itself. It’s all about how it’s told.

What really matters is how far you opened the door and let life in. What matters is how honestly you felt it. How willingly you shared. How wholly you related. How deeply you loved. How sincerely you appreciate the moment, the feeling, the living.

The things that you’re working towards, struggling with, and worrying about right now are but a small part of what shapes the whole of your experience. And in the end, that’s what matters. The whole of your experience. How you feel. What you’re thinking. How much peace you’re creating, or how much stress. How open you are, or how single-minded. That’s what gets lost when you think all of that other stuff matters more than it does.

You see, it’s the quality of the moment more than the outcome of particulars in it. It isn’t about what’s happening so much as it’s about how present you are while it’s happening. For all of the time we spend inside of our heads, planning and worrying and trying to figure it all out; what really matters when the waves settle and the reflection is clear has nothing to do with the who, what and how. It’s about the why.

It’s about the driving force behind it. Was it love or was it fear? Were we opened or were we closed? Were we giving or were we taking? Were we worrying or were we hoping?

When you look back at today with the clarity that only experience seems to offer, how you feel about this moment won’t be based on whether you were respected or wounded. It will be about whether you were open to the experience. It won’t be about whether you succeeded or failed. It will be about whether you shared and learned from the venture. It won’t be about whether you figured out the puzzle. It will be about how much you enjoyed finding the pieces.

There’s a perfect kind of irony here, if you look closely. That kind of irony that loves to hang out in the presence of truth. That perfect irony is this – the things that we tend to focus on the most are the very things that turn out better when we let go and let them be what they are. When we focus on being open rather than being in control. When we focus on being present rather than planning ahead. When we focus on being honest. Being aware. Being in love.

Those are the things that matter. And not just in the end. Not just when the dust settles. Those are the things that matter here and now, in the midst of the moment, even as the storms are raging and the questions are as yet unanswered. What matters is that you live. Not in your head. Not in the future. Not in the past. Here and now. What matters is that you’re open. That you’re alive. That you’re there to feel it. From there, the rest will fall into place. And the things that don’t? Well, they don’t really matter anyway.

2018 Cristen Rodgers

Listen and Answer in Kind

Immigrant is just another word for person. Illegal immigrants are just people too. People who are trying to find peace, who are trying to escape danger, who are hoping to find equal opportunity. People who had to circumvent the system, but who nonetheless have reasons for everything that they do. Reasons that aren’t all that different from your own.

It’s such an easy and convenient argument. The one where you say that they should have followed the rules. They should have done it right. Then they wouldn’t have to be separated. Then they wouldn’t have to hide. The one where you say it’s their own fault.

It’s an easy argument because, to you, it’s an easy thing to do. Following the rules is no big deal. It’s no big deal to jump online and start researching how to go about applying and filing the paperwork. It’s no big deal because you have internet, and a phone, and because your country allows it. You have a general understanding of the process and you’re fluent in the language.

It’s no big deal for you to take the afternoon off work, because those couple of dollars probably won’t affect whether your family eats tonight. It’s no big deal to get to the offices where you file your paperwork and do your interviews because you have a car, and gas money, and they are in reasonable distance.

It’s no big deal because, if you have to, you can hire a lawyer to help you with the tricky parts. All you have to do is use that money you were going to spend on the football game, or Friday night movies, or a night out with the family.

It’s no big deal because you can think straight and focus on what you’re doing. You don’t have any real pressing issues distracting, rushing, and frightening you into messing up or taking shortcuts – like worrying about whether your kids are going hungry. Or whether your husband is going to beat you to death when he finds out. Or whether your local police will take what’s left of your money, whether your family is safe, or when the next shooting will be.

It’s no big deal because you aren’t desperate to escape a bad situation. You aren’t desperate enough to leave your homeland, your family, your friends, everything that you’ve ever known. You don’t know what it’s like to be so desperate that years of paperwork shuffling and the risk of being turned away is just too great. Desperate because it’s human nature to want peace. Security. Safety. Health. Opportunity.

It’s easy because you don’t know what it’s like to take that chance and to make it. To arrive and to start believing that maybe things will be okay. Maybe you can start fresh and build a home where your children are safe and their bellies are full. A home where maybe you’ll get to see them smile. And maybe you’ll smile yourself, because the threat is finally gone.

But then you’re caught – and a nation full of people are blaming all of their woes on you, when all you wanted was to get away from danger, from poverty, from uncertainty. All you wanted was refuge.

So now you’re desperate again. Desperate for a chance. To be heard. To be understood. To hold on to the one thing you have left – your family.

You don’t know what it’s like, but I bet if you tried you could start to understand.

Maybe they didn’t go about it the way you would have. Maybe they didn’t follow the rules. But maybe they couldn’t. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe things aren’t always black and white. Maybe there are a lot of grey areas in this world, grey areas that we are responsible for morally and conscientiously navigating.

That’s all they’re asking. And that’s all that we’re asking – those of us who have chosen to be a voice for those voiceless families. We’re just asking that you take a moment out of your normal routines and your everyday rationalities to consider those grey areas.

They’re asking us to lay down our self-centeredness and look at the bigger picture. To sacrifice our pride and defensiveness, to quiet our ego and listen. Listen to the struggles that we may never know. Listen to the heartbeats of those who are so similar and yet whose experiences are a world apart from our own. Listen to our souls instead of our heads.

Listen and then answer in kind. Answer with compassion. Because we too know how much it means to know that our children are safe. We too know how important it is to have food to eat and a safe place to rest our heads. We too know that the people we love are most important, above all else. We too can understand that the thought of being separated from them, in a foreign place, among people who seem to despise them, is terrifying. We too want those simple things first and foremost, like safety and stability, health, and a sense of home.

Because we know these things, we know how to answer these people. These people who might be labeled immigrants, but who are no different from us on the inside. We answer with compassion because we would want compassion ourselves. We answer with humanity because we are human ourselves. We answer with humility because we’ve known struggle ourselves. And we answer in love because we want love ourselves.

© 2018 Cristen Rodgers

 

Don’t Tell Me I’m Pretty

Don’t tell me I’m pretty; I had no say in the matter of my looks. I didn’t choose what features I would have or what shape my body would take. I didn’t create the palette from which my eyes, hair, and skin were painted; nor did I hold the chisel that crafted my frame.

Tell me that my mind is lovely, or that you like the colors of my soul. If you must tell me I’m pretty, tell me I’m pretty inside.

Don’t ask me what I do. You can’t figure me out by assessing what I build with my hands; and I won’t be branded by the title that precedes or follows my name. And don’t wade in the shallow end by asking me about my religion, political party, or the zip code of my home.

It’s nothing personal; it’s just that I won’t place myself inside of a frame so others can more easily understand my art.

If you must ask me questions, ask me about possibilities instead. Ask me what I do with my passion, what my dreams are made of, or where I invest my soul.

Let’s not get weighed down with labels and categories, but set our ideas to sail on an unpredictable breeze. Let’s wildly chase after them, like children after willow seeds on the wind, as they flow freely, spontaneously changing direction and picking up speed.

You can skip the passive remarks about the weather and let’s get straight to discussing the mystical forces that control it. Get lost with me, if you dare, in passionate descriptions of its astounding beauty and the lessons it shares.

If you must talk about the weather, tell me about the way it feels when the rain seeps into your soul, or how your emotions and thoughts change with the tides, the seasons, and the moon.

Don’t tell me what’s going on in other people’s lives. The truth is, I’ve never liked the taste of stories that were distilled in someone else’s mind. I refuse to partake, even if it means leaving the table.

I mean no disrespect – it’s just that I revere the subjectivity of people’s stories too much to have them passively relayed like tabloid tales on supermarket shelves.

Tell me your own stories instead. Tell me what’s happening in your heart and what’s moving in your spirit. Tell me about the monsters crawling around in your attic, and about the loves, joys, and hopes that help you face them.

If you must tell me a story, tell me the one that keeps you up at night. And then tell me the one that rises like the sun within your heart each morning, the one that makes everything alright.

Don’t tell me what you know. Tell me who you are. Let’s discover new truths and explore big ideas. Let’s go beyond the surface and dive right down into the depth of what’s blooming in our hearts and what’s spinning along the secret corridors of our minds.

Let’s talk about the sun and the stars. Let’s explore the possibilities of other dimensions and debate about the existence of aliens, discuss the origins of the universe, or share the journey of our souls. I want to talk about the different expressions of god, and swoon over the different expressions of nature.

I want to know what your passions are. Let me see your eyes light up and hear your voice steadily grow louder as you talk about the things that excite you, that awaken the child within, the dreams and desires that burn like an internal fire.

I want to talk about ways we can heal the planet and how we can help people in need, and let’s share the lessons we’re learning as we work on helping ourselves.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want to talk about things that are real, things that matter, and that lead to lasting connections. I want to explore our passions and share our dreams, consider new ideas and ponder the mysteries, to make good use of the precious tools of language, connection, and time.

I mean no offense when I say this; it’s just the truth of who I am. I won’t speak just to fill the silence, because both speaking and silence are worth too much. I want to talk about something real, or else I’d rather not speak at all.

©2017 Cristen Rodgers

It’s Time to Rise

It is time. It’s time to rise.

It’s time to step up, to step out, to step into our truth, our power, our missions, our might.

Now is the time to offer support, protection, and encouragement. Now, as the world is awakening and so many people are shaking off the last remnants of sleep.

Now is the time to find ways to feed the hungry, to protect the children, to clothe the cold. Now, as our entangled roots grow stronger and more easily seen.

It’s time. It’s time for a change. Now is the time for revolution. Now is the time for abundance, to start sharing our hearts, our homes, our humanness, our heaven. Now is the time to start planting trees, riding buses, and recycling goods. Now, as the earth herself feels the shift and prepares to come fully back to life.

Now is the time to start acting on what we know, to find balance, to hold belief, to create beauty in our individual lives.

It’s time. It’s time to start putting consciousness to work and compassion to practice. Now is the time to forgive the brutal and to heal the broken. It’s time to replace competition with inspiration and greed with giving. It’s time to offer hugs where we once held back, and to share where we once stayed silent.

Now is the time. It’s time to speak. It’s time to write. It’s time to paint and dance and sing and share.

Now is the time to give with whatever gifts we have. It’s time to plant whatever seeds we’ve sprouted. It’s time to speak the truths that we’ve dug so deep to uncover. It is time to fully shine.

It’s time to step out of the comfortable and into the transformative. It’s time to follow our hearts and to use our heads, to start creating with conscious intent.

Now is the time to put our passions to practical use. It’s time to tell the stories that will inspire. It’s time to reach out and touch the person that needs healing. It’s time to paint the images that will tickle the subconscious, and to write the poems that will trigger the growth.

It’s time to grow the plants that will breathe new life into the evolution, and to start conceptualizing the cities that will keep it sustained. Now, as the air is ripe with change and the winds are ready to rise.

Now is the time to take our individual strengths and apply them to the creation of a collective bridge.

Can you hear it? The whisper on the wind. The sighs of the seas. The echoes in the earth. The gleams in all of these fresh, new eyes. The hope and compassion in the air. The new dreams rippling across the horizon.

She’s calling. She’s telling us.

Now is the time.

It’s time.

It is time!

© 2017 Cristen Rodgers

One Year of the Elements

One year of the elements – introduced and induced, one by one.

Three hundred sixty-five lessons, beneath three hundred and sixty-five suns.

The wind was the first among them to rise, to beckon, whispering my name,

as a herald, a signal, a caution, a sign, that nothing would ever be the same.

Next to call was the earth, pulling my roots down to their final depths –

teaching me of the magical balance that she so responsibly kept.

Just as I was starting to wander and wonder over this mystery,

I was temporarily enchanted by the cleansing power of the sea.

But before I could drink the waters of life and learn how to dive,

a fire broke out within my depths, and raged until it burned me alive.

One by one, my idols fell and my knees were painted red,

as the flames consumed every lie on which my ego fed.

Not until my life fell as ashes through my tattered mind,

did I find the hidden courage to leave the old and dead behind.

I picked up the residual pieces and held them in my hands,

and willed my bloody, shaking knees to finally try to stand.

But just then I was sent adrift on a tsunami so surreal

that I finally forgot to think and learned how to feel.

The waters carried me out to sea and dropped me on a distant shore;

and as I looked around I knew that I’d been here once before.

“This is the island of forgotten souls, where the pieces are safely kept”,

I heard a familiar voice whisper, as I kissed the sand and wept.

Only then did I realize that through it all I’d been asleep,

and that the only things I desired were those I need not seek.

Afraid that I might forget it all and awaken with a scream,

I decided that I’d stay a while and help to heal the dream.

© 2017 Cristen Rodgers

Stand in Your Fullness

So now here I am, clothed in my womanhood, standing in my power. Here I am, stronger than I ever would have imagined I could be, more free than I ever thought possible, living with more purpose than I ever dreamt I’d find.

So now here I am, looking back at the girl I once was – the girl who in some ways burned to ashes and yet in others still lives somewhere inside. The child who in some ways still lives inside of us all.

I look back at that girl – at the frightened child, the needy girlfriend, the lonely daughter, the angry young woman. I look back at the judger, the sinner, the offender, the liar, the beggar, the breaker. I look back and I can forgive. I can accept. I can love her in all the ways she thought she needed others to love her. I can love her in the ways she thought she didn’t deserve.

Now I can truly love who I am because I know how to love who I was.

Now I stand in my fullness and know that when I look back, I’m really just looking in. There’s no need to hide behind the illusion of linear time. There’s no more need to pretend that I’m better in one stage than another. There’s no longer a desire to divide and conquer aspects of myself – and so neither is there a need to divide and judge aspects of others.

Now, what compassion I have when looking back, I also have when looking out. Because I accept and love all of myself, I also can accept and love all of the world around me. Now, I stand here clothed in my womanhood, standing in my power, yet I remain naked and vulnerable, open and accepting.

I stand here and I look out at the fresh-faced girls, at the young women, at those just discovering their strength, at those still struggling against their true selves. I look out and I say to them, you can. You will. You do. You are.

You do have that kind of strength. You are that kind of love. You do that kind of work. You are that kind of beauty. You will make that kind of difference.

Whatever you imagine you can be, you are. Whatever beautiful, powerful, influential, creative, loving version of yourself you can dream up and hope for, you already are. Whatever strength, whatever compassion, whatever force you can imagine, you already own. You already are. It’s all there. Waiting. Waiting to be accepted and loved. Waiting to be embraced and then let out into the world.

You are the savior you’ve been looking for. You are the heroine you admire. You are the glorious goddess of creative, compassionate, confident, caring, cooperative, capable, courageous power of your dreams.

And the sooner you believe it, the sooner you accept it, the sooner you forgive yourself for believing anything less, the sooner you will start to step into that power.

To all of the women out there, and to the men too, you already have what you’re looking for. You already contain that which you seek. You are what you hope to be. All you need to do is recognize it. Embrace it. Believe it. And act on it.

We are all strong. We are all weak. We are all young and old, wise and winsome, foolish and frightened. We are all of the above and so much more. All any of us need do is choose how and when to claim it. Whatever you really believe, whatever you cherish and hold in the highest esteem, whatever you set your mind to, you can do. You can be. You can create. Because it’s all already there.

But you have to be honest. You have to be fearless. You have to accept all of you. You have to see and show love to your every shadow before you can tap into your true light.

This truth is why I can stand here now and celebrate the fullness of who I am. This truth is why the only love I was waiting for was my own. The only strength I lacked was that which I didn’t believe I had. The only compassion I needed was what I withheld from myself.

So now here I am, clothed in my womanhood, standing in my power, and I say to all of you – just look within and believe. Look for the universe within you. Listen for the whispers of wisdom echoing through the corridors of your own heart. Open up the windows and let yourself out. There’s no need to wait. It’s already there. Just believe in yourself. Always believe in yourself and it will be. It must be, because it already is.

©2017 Cristen Rodgers

A New Earth

…and then, one by one, they started to remember. They remembered the truth. They remembered that everything they saw, everything they touched, everything they are is love. They looked at one another and saw precious gems of divine love, enclosed in pristine physical displays. They regarded every creature, felt every breeze, knew every sunray as brushstrokes in a portrait of pure and perfect love. They received every message as an expression of love – and so it came to be that they responded to everything in like.

It didn’t take even a fraction of the effort that they once expended in vain. It happened without great applause, almost spontaneously, as a natural response to the truth that they now embraced. They aligned, one by one – and, after all of the wars both within and without, the world slipped into peace as simply as a baby slips into sleep.

They remembered. They realized that it wasn’t about fighting and forcing. It was just about knowing and loving. It came so quickly and so quietly, this revolution, that many forgot there was any other way. They barely recalled weapons and wars, or scarcity and all of its related sins. They knew what once was, but they understood and they forgave. There was no more need or want to grudgingly hold on to those old ideals like an accountant whose file cabinets are full of useless numbers that he fears may become relevant once thrown away.

They were too busy to cling to anything now. They were too busy making a heavenly garden of their glorious earth. They were too busy mining precious pearls from one another’s hearts. They were too busy loving to waste any more energy cleaving to the past. They remembered. And that was enough. Everything was suddenly enough, because now they remembered that everything is love…

© 2017 Cristen Rodgers