This world offered me no spaces, just for me
So I set out to build a space that was all my own
Once it was devised and developed
I filled it with my treasures and my trinkets
I filled it with my art and my brilliance
I sat in the middle of the room that I’d created and sang until I wept
And finally not knowing better, then the best that I could know,
I began to fill it with my doubts and my anxieties
I fed it with my fears and my worst case scenarios
I painted the walls with my hunger and the need to always know;
Am I good enough to be here doing this?
Overwhelmed by the ghosts I had invited in,
I found myself unable to move.
And so here too this space of mine
Began to resemble the world I had run from
The spaces I had hoped to leave behind
In a dream my teacher came to me
I asked her what I was doing wrong
She told me that my question held the answer
“You are already healed,” she reminded me,
“Your ancestors wonder, ‘Why does this lady keep acting like [her spirit is] sick?’”
The next morning I felt the wind change
A few weeks later I wrote a letter to God
And in the act of doing so I heard my true name
It occurred to me
That if I am to build a space that is all my own
Capable of holding my treasures and my trinkets
Capable of housing my art and my brilliance
Then I must leave my doubts and insecurities on the outside looking in
The world is so full of spaces in which they can belong
So many spaces where my worth can be questioned and debated and cast to the side
So many spaces where my uneasiness can be held in high esteem and reassured
Until it feels justified in it’s need to cling, and distrust, and withhold
The space that I’ve built, can be no place for such things
The space that I’ve built must be sacred in it’s clarity that I belong here.
The best of me belongs here.
Gently holding the knowledge that creating such a space
Does something to the fabric of worlds long gone and worlds still yet to come
Gently holding to the hope that creating such a space, does something to the world outside.