Zen of the Broken

"Smiling Dragonfly"

 

This is going to be hard to admit. I have been trying to keep it together for such a long time--years, in fact. Traumatic events, one after another, have had me running in circles, trying to wrap duct tape around a life that always feels on the brink of falling apart.

I'm tired.

I am out of duct tape.

I have reached "Fuck It" status.

I'm broken.

On the outside, the robot Shannan keeps going through the motions of "life." On the inside I have am laying in the form of lotus that is called the fetal position.

Surveying the landscape of my life from rock-bottom I realize...I don't like it. All the things I have been trying to hold together and make right, don't really fit at all. They don't resonate with me. They are just there.

For some reason I have thought that if they are there they must have to stay there: the huge 19th century wagon wheel table I spent a lot of money on but have no room for, the job that provides an income but does not bring me satisfaction, the boyfriend that takes up space but doesn't contribute anything mentally, physically or emotionally. 

I don't even know if I really like them or not...it doesn't matter...wrap duct tape around them and hold on tight. Even if it makes you miserable.

I can't do it anymore.

I start vacation next week. Robot Shannan is gonna take the batteries out and allow herself to completely fall apart. I am cutting the tape and letting it all go so I can make some decisions about what I really WANT to be in my life. 

I feel relieved already. 

A friend of mine posted this poem on her Facebook the other day. It's the theme for these next coming weeks.

 

Zen of the Broken

Be broken.
Lie there
on the ground
in the wreckage
until you can feel
all of your new jagged
edges individually.
Notice how much more
surface area there is to you now.
Notice there’s a rhythm to the stinging.
It will lead you back to your pulse.
Try to move if you can.
Follow the path the pain takes
when it forks and sharks
through your body.
Focus on your uneven breath.
Try to love way it hitches now,
how each drag of air cuts
through the field of panic.
As your thoughts struggle
to harden into words,
return to your breath.
Pull yourself into sitting
as best you can.
Be tender.
Try speaking.
Grasp the leathery
harness of your voice.
How long have you been crying?
Hum something
your mother taught you.
Anything is fine.
Feel it vibrate in your chest.
That’s where your heart is,
still beating,
still wrestling life into you,
still pushing back against the world.

Mindy Nettifee

 

Until next time,

Namaste.

Shannan

 

More Mindy at Cult of Mindy