Steps in the Arena of Vulnerability
Inspired by Brené Brown’s Daring Greatly and Theodore Roosevelt’s “Man in Arena” The light of lies we tell ourselves. The prison doors we shut in our own faces. The lives we deny ourselves, afraid of fear, second chances. We risk ourselves to face a crowd chanting “boo”! Subjecting our dreams to the light of reality. I understand now that the darer of dreams is fear that must be overcome, unfed by cowardice. Living small, away from others’ eyes and harsh words in Spectatorsville, where dreams—if dreamt at all-- are never realized, only talked about as if they were some old pastime too far gone. Like publishing my first poetry collection, it seems too uncomfortable, too vulnerable to trust myself, receive the help I need, and know the difference. To read my own words marked up and changed by another’s keystrokes. Then decide what stays, goes, and evolves. Maintaining who I was when I wrote the poems, while adhering to my current values. This process confronts me with my perfectionism. My limiting beliefs that say I am not good enough, nobody buys poetry, my poems are not adequate, and I didn’t get the best aid. Yet here I am. Sitting on some lofty goal, not daring to get up to remove its creases from being crushed, hidden, forgotten. No! Now is the time to rise up, dust off, and grab hold. Get out of the stands, and dare myself to enter my circle of dreams. Quiet Morning Revival Here I am unabashed in a lyrical song of a time long gone. A heart swells beneath my chest beat, beat, beat. Let it pour out onto me, the freedom of life well spent in the simple quiet of sleeping babes, no wrong turn, no perfect end. The only quiet I engage. Wash me with energy for a good day. Let me lie down in your soft sheets and warm embrace. Let not the stolen time be taken in the night. Rise, morning, rise.
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AuthorI write poetry to connect to myself and the world around me. My vision for my work is to help others appreciate the beauty of the space and time they are in now. Archives
July 2025
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