Music / Real life

nobody here is perfect


i have been thinking about that tonight… in these overnight hours when i can not sleep though i desperately wish to sleep… that’s all i want… sleep.

Nobody here is perfect… says the song


i am trying to see the imperfections as history rather than flaws. i am trying to practice acceptance of my cracks and those in people with whom i share my path. i am trying to see value in all of it for what it is now – without fretting over how it was or should be or could be, and yet? Tonight i am absolutely sad… weighed down with a sadness that i cannot quite comprehend.

i am weary, i suspect. There is nothing about today that was terrible… nothing that i can point to and say, “There… right there… that made bat sad” but here i sit when i should be laying in my bed.

So, i journal and blog and try to see suffering for what it is… nothing more and nothing less.

But fuck… that is so much easier said than done.

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2 thoughts on “nobody here is perfect

  1. The House of Belonging
    I awoke
    this morning
    in the gold light
    turning this way
    and that

    thinking for
    a moment
    it was one
    like any other.

    the veil had gone
    from my
    darkened heart
    and I thought

    it must have been the quiet
    that filled my room,

    it must have been
    the first easy rhythm
    with which I breathed
    myself to sleep,

    it must have been
    the prayer I said
    speaking to the otherness
    of the night.

    I thought
    this is the good day
    you could meet your love,

    this is the black day
    someone close
    to you could die.

    This is the day
    you realize
    how easily the thread
    is broken
    between this world
    and the next

    and I found myself
    sitting up
    in the quiet pathway
    of light,

    the tawny
    close grained cedar
    burning round
    me like a fire
    and all the angels of this housely
    heaven ascending
    through the first
    roof of light
    the sun has made.

    This is the bright home
    in which I live,
    this is where
    I ask
    my friends
    to come,
    this is where I want
    to love all the things
    it has taken me so long
    to learn to love.

    This is the temple
    of my adult aloneness
    and I belong
    to that aloneness
    as I belong to my life.

    There is no house
    like the house of belonging.
    ~ David Whyte ~

    nothing is perfect
    and i am grateful for that
    this way i can lean into everything
    and create it
    perfect means satisfied
    imperfect means beauty
    into the effort
    we are all works
    in progress but
    what joy to feel
    like we belong
    and celebrate with
    each other.

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