Dancing With A Limp.

I’m out of words. I write then I read and read and read and read and then I write. I’m preparing for a silent retreat so it makes sense that I’m running on empty with words. But, here are other people’s words. When I read poetry, books, or quotes that resonate with me or validate me on a visceral level it’s as if the person crawled through the pages an offered a warm hug. We can always use a warm hug and a “me too”

Hugs.

“You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly – that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”

–Anne Lamott

Wild Geese – Mary Oliver

“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”

Death With Dignity – Sufjan Stevens

Spirit of my silence I can hear you
But I’m afraid to be near you

And I don’t know where to begin
And I don’t know where to begin

Somewhere in the desert there’s a forest
And an acre before us
But I don’t know where to begin
But I don’t know where to begin

Again I’ve lost my strength completely, oh be near me
Tired old mare with the wind in your hair

Amethyst and flowers on the table, is it real or a fable?
Well I suppose a friend is a friend
And we all know how this will end

Chimney swift that finds me, be my keeper
Silhouette of the cedar
What is that song you sing for the dead?
What is that song you sing for the dead?

I see the signal searchlight strike me in the window of my room
Well I got nothing to prove
Well I got nothing to prove

Image from: Her heart tied to a red balloon. herheartonhersleeve-blog.tumblr.com

Love.