Unmoveable by Louise Gallagher Still I sit unmoved by the earth orbiting through time passing where I sit still unmoveable in my desire to hold on to all I believe I am when I sit still. Opening my eyes see I must let go of sitting still to release my hold on being, unmoveable.
I sit in meditation and release my thinking mind into my body. I ask my deep, inner knowing, to fill me up with connection, awareness, guidance.
“We come into this world knowing the infinite belonging within life that brings us into being,” the wise woman whispers.
Huh?
What on earth does that mean.
Listen, she whispers.
I sink deeper. I listen, deep.
And I feel myself opening, opening, opening.
All my life I have strived to ‘be equal’ to be as good as, and at times, better than, ‘a man’.
But what if none of this journey is about being equal to or better than.
What if the mystery of the feminine I strive to uncover and connect to is as much a part of the whole as the masculine that has been buried beneath mountains of patriarchial patterning that would have white maleness be the measure of the worth of all?
What if equality has nothing to do with it?
What if this journey is about becoming something profoundly other than what is known now?
What if, in all my striving, I let go of holding onto all I think I know and believe about who I am in relation to ‘the other’ so that I can become all I am in relation to me?
What if in my becoming, I allow the expression of my infinite belonging to draw the threads of my being into a beautiful, magnificent expression of my destiny woven through life’s constantly evolving journey?
What if the story of my life isn’t ‘what I make it’ but what I become as I live it untethered to the known as I explore the all of who I do not know me to be?
What if it is not about striving to be, and simply becoming my story in this time where I sit, still, and unmoveable yet constantly moving and changing, moving and changing?
Heady thoughts to ponder beneath this grey sky day where snow blankets the earth and the river runs deep, its surface movement blocked by ice stopping its flow while beneath the ice, the river moves, constantly reaching out towards a distant sea.
Dare Boldly 
LG, I was wondering if your typo in the poem/s title was intentional – so I was reading the poem with two thoughts in mind; the first is that you might have been sitting still on a window sill. The second, recalling a talk I saw the other day – actor Damian Lewis being interviewed, and during that interview, he talked about his days in acting school when a teacher had all his students go to the zoo every Saturday (in his case because of his type A frenetic pace, to study a lizard) to watch an animal. He explained the ability of the lizard to sit motionlessly – to be STILL – fascinated him, to get into the mindset of patience, of stillness. I loved his description, as I did your poem. We get so caught up in our busy lives we don’t take enough time to sit still, sit still in our window sill, to still our minds and bodies (and to still the famous Louise lizard on our shoulders) to be ready and poised for action when a tasty bug flies by. Thanks to that, together with your poem, my fingers are flying on the keyboard this morning focused on a more patient approach to things …
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Oh oh. That was a typo Mark! But it does work… sort of! 🙂
And I love the story about Damien Lewis and the lizard’s stillness. So true. Those lizards on our shoulderrs are always so enticed by bugs flying by! Thanks Mark. ❤
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And… after sitting with it for a couple of days… I decided I needed to fix my typo! 🙂
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Beautiful, Louise, your words lifts and sways as you seek and we with you.
But the river normally reaches the sea. Skipping, jumping, flowing….
Have you ever watched a big waterfall melt . It melts from within.
miriam
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Thank you Miriam! I love the ‘waterfall melts from within’ perspective! So beautiful.
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Far too deep for me! But my thought after reading it was we just have to be enough for ourselves.
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Absolutely — and lol — some mornings my mind dives deep and I just follow the threads. 🙂
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It sounds like a beautiful journey Louise. ❤️
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