Worth it

You try to reduce your life to nothing.


See how it works when you don’t

watch TV, don’t

read books,

don’t visit with friends,

don’t do this,

don’t do that.

Face yourself squarely.

I dare you.

OK, I don’t dare you.

Don’t do it at all.

Unless you’re prepared to face

your own emptiness,

your own fears,

your own frightened beating heart.

If you’re not afraid,

do it.

Or do it if you’re rightfully afraid,

but Spirit leads you blindfolded

into the fray of yourself.

When something in you doesn’t try,

but insists…

Connect yourself to Presence.

Be that which arises.

Over and over again

let that which arises

be you.


OK, you’ll fail.

You’ll be afraid.

You’ll grab at this and that.

Never mind.

Go back to your original intent:

Be Present.

A thousand distractions arise.

A thousand heartaches.

A thousand chickadees singing.

Do it because

there’s nothing else your soul wants.

Do it because

just because.

They say you’ll be beaten and bruised,

you’ll be hollowed and destroyed,

but it’s worth it, oh it’s worth it,

oh god it’s worth it–

I know, how I hope,

I almost feel, don’t you, too?

It’s worth your entire soul

before you traded it for a self

on that long ago day

before you dove into that fetus

and forgot yourself…



12 thoughts on “Worth it

  1. “dove into that fetus and forgot yourself…” wow! I do believe that most of us body-clad beings would find what you are suggesting near on impossible Kathy. Life does get in the way, doesn’t it, although I do feel enriched by not listening to negative talk, or TV shows. I wonder how difficult it would really be, to reduce yourself back to spirit, in body form?

    • Joanne, as someone who is–perhaps–attempting this–I feel like it’s the most difficult journey in the world. I turn off and away from everything, facing, facing, facing, that which arises. I fail a thousand times. And yet…this journey feels like the only journey worth making…the one I’ve prepared for endlessly for 25 years.

      You can see the unity of perception. It’s there. It’s real. Yet we continually choose the familiarity of the personalities we’ve become. It feels like–there are no words to articulate it–it feels impossible–to return to that which we are. and yet that’s all I truly want.

      • For me, it would be impossible, with two teenagers in the house! A few years ago I didn’t enjoy the familiarity of who I was. It was who others wnated me to be, so I managed to slowly, slowly, become more of “me”. I believe it is an ongoing journey too. I wish you well in your journey Kathy. In a way, I envy you the freedom of feeling you can try to make this journey. No, that’s not it, it’s not envy at all, that feels wrong. More like gratitude, but directed at you, for you.

        • Joanne, when the kids were in the house it would have been impossible. I do so relate to where you are now! I feel I can make this journey, dear Joanne, yet it feels like the “I” is dropping away, which feels like Life making this journey. (But the I is a ferocious fellow and keeps upping the ante these past three years since I first “woke up” to something larger.) It IS possible. For me, for you, for all of us…if that’s where our spirit calls us. I would so like to be communicating with people from the fully awake perspective, rather than this roller-coaster ride of self-no-self. The no-self side gently whispers, “we are one…”. Thank you for you.

  2. Dear Kathy, We surely have our own unique paths, with so many universals. We all know joy and sorrow, nature, others in our lives. I am well now, but a chronic illness when young required so much rest to get well and led to good changes. One day at a time. Always learning. Now I say my illness was my best teacher. Life keeps changing too and I have to learn the same lessons in new ways. My spiritual practice all these years is reading the Psalms. What a blessing–and our blogs too–that we can share. Love your poetry! Blessings, Ellen

    • Ellen, you are so right about our unique paths. What a miracle that we humans can find common language to share about our love of the sacred, the divine. Honoring that you learned so much from the “gift” of your illness and that the Psalms enliven and teach and guide you. Gifts everywhere! Blessings to you, as well.

  3. Wow, Kathy! So often, I sift through the latest blog posts in my inbox, feeling rushed or tired or far behind as I read them. Whenever I land on one of your posts, though, I’m smacked (in a good way) by how trivial those day-to-day “concerns” of mine really are. Everything external melts away, and– for a few precious moments, at least– I can just be. Aaaahhhh. (<– meant to be a sigh of relief, not a prolonged scream!) Thank you from the bottom of my heart. xo

    • Loves you, Dana. (That’s what I say to my daughter.) I think I write this blog to remind myself of the same thing. It’s so easy to forget. You may want to try the chakra meditation I just posted here. I did it this morning and melted off the planet it was so powerful and relaxing, oh yes, it was.

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