April Theme: Rooting into Self

A collage and a poem walk into a garden...

Hello hello!

I’m very glad you’re here :)

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The theme of the month: Rooting into Self 

Initially, the theme was “blooming into self.” But looking at the barely budding trees and still snow-covered ground outside my window (*cries in icicles*), I realized that wasn’t quite right.

Because before we can bloom, we have to root down into the dirt.

What I mean is - for many of us, before we can bloom in any meaningful way, we first have to dig into the deep-dark of ourselves and “do the work” of breaking whatever patterns and old stories keep us from turning toward ourselves.

This can take months, years, sometimes decades (*more crying*).

As an example…I spent much of my life trying to feel “okay” by being whatever I thought other people wanted. All surface florescence, no roots. So, whenever I did receive the gilded stamp of momentary approval, it would, without fail, turn to dust.

My sense of self could be blown over by the slightest breeze. I often felt adrift and confused.

I’ve learned (and re-learned and am not done learning) that continually trying to accomplish world-wide approval is a) impossible, b) requires continual self-abandonment, and c) eventually becomes unbearable.

Hence, “doing the work.”

After a couple decades of it (see: learning and re-learning), I am just beginning to turn toward myself bit by bit, like tiny roots pushing through dirt day after day.

For me, that means I’m letting myself discover what I love, make the weird things I want to make, and even bring some of it out of the mud and into the sun.

All while my conditioning screams:

It’s too late!

You’re too old!

You gave up on yourself, remember? Therefore, you deserve nothing!

One big way to turn the volume down on that inner screaming is less comparison to where others are in their lives, what others have accomplished, and where I think I “should” be at this point in my life. (Especially important to note for those with a history of trauma, neurodivergence, chronic illness, and/or systematic oppression).

It’s a s-l-o-o-o-o-w, ongoing, one-step-forward-half-a-step-back kind of process.

But by turning toward myself bit by bit, I find that I am changing.

And my life is, too. My slowly expanding roots have connected me with amazing communities, friends, and teachers who are feeding and support this growth.

Most importantly, I can feel a sturdy sense of self starting to emerge from the dirt.

My dreams, my heart, my body | Mixed Media Collage by Colleen Kam Siu | 8.5” x 11.5”

The poem of the week is: “Rooting” 

Shut your eyes -
     You’re diving into 
           a womb of stars,
                a sack of malleable 

light stretched clean like
     glass putty, soft like 
          pliable conscious-
               ness, like:

The first time
     you looked into
          a mirror thinking
               "This is you."

Hello you, 
     moon-faced child
          coloring every aqua 
               edge heartbroken,

trying to find 
     pockets to exist 
          as one million 
               brilliant pieces

& years later
      finally returning
           to the mirrored
               corners, to say:
                  
This is you,  
      nose, fingers here, 
           dreams there, darkly
                shining, like a seed 
                   
rolling over rocks,
     rooting into lonely
          cracks, still a home -- 
               still a place to grow.  

P.S. - Just in case you need to hear it today:

It’s not too late.

You’re not too old.

You deserve to turn toward yourself with love.