Goodness, James! What powerful imagery.. What if everyone would allow themselves the gift, the freedom, of being broken open. Think of how so much compassion would spill out into the world.
Thank you James for this thoughtful poem and reflection on being broken/open. I am considering how one's heart can be broken/open... one's mind/set of beliefs can be broken/open... a family or a group of friends can be broken/open in the wake of loss and grief...
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I feel this deeply right now. I was just journaling, trying to figure out the word for how I feel in this season. I had a very well-meaning therapist tell me I was broken open and that felt a bit sour and spiritually bypassing for me--and I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to capture gratitude and makes lists of how I could tackle the next step. I shared this with a friend over text today and she--no stranger to grief--advised me to let everything go and just feel it. I don't need to name it, I can just feel it. It won't last forever. And I felt a release. Now I read these words and it feels like validation upon validation. Many thanks.
So happy to offer this validation to you! We have to learn to let ourselves just stay broken for a while, before we can move on into *anything* else, I feel.
The choice we make between remaining broken or allowing ourselves to be broken open is a powerful and life changing one. There is so much to feel broken over, as you mention, though we must continue letting the light in. Thank you for this powerful message and beautiful poem James. I hope to use it as inspiration in my writers gathering next Sunday.
I have never considered, nor heard, this distinction between being broken versus broken open. And how powerful and instructive it is! Thank you for this and also for connecting it to the larger ideas of service and the grief at events in our world.
I truly appreciate this article and the distinction you’ve made between “being broken” and “breaking open”-like most of us, both have been part of my experiences. This week, I’m aware of straddling both as new losses occur. It is good to have friends and even poems available as a friend when we need them. Thanks for “walking me home” tonight, James.
Sometimes it seems pain is like an abscess. We try to keep it inside, hoping it will heal. Hoping nobody will notice our discomfort. But the only cure is to open it up and clean out the harm.
Thank you for writing about this distinction. I have had the experience of both and agree there are time one just feels broken and needs to lean on the light of others. When I allowed my grief its own journey I did discover over time I too became broken open. 💜
I so very much appreciate these thoughts as well as this poem. Thanks James
Thank you, dear friend. You are one of the open ones for sure.
Vulnerability.
I am learning to sit in “broken open,” every day a little wider. Some days, the current state, too heavy to hold.
I think that's where so many of us are--some days broken-open, some days just broken. How we take turns...
Thank you for holding this space for us, James. ❤️
Always, dear one.
Goodness, James! What powerful imagery.. What if everyone would allow themselves the gift, the freedom, of being broken open. Think of how so much compassion would spill out into the world.
I so agree, Ann. It's aspirational for me to live this way--and it takes a lot of work!
Indeed, James.
Some, broken open…
now on stage, taking turns with
those simply broken.
Thank you James for this thoughtful poem and reflection on being broken/open. I am considering how one's heart can be broken/open... one's mind/set of beliefs can be broken/open... a family or a group of friends can be broken/open in the wake of loss and grief...
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I feel this deeply right now. I was just journaling, trying to figure out the word for how I feel in this season. I had a very well-meaning therapist tell me I was broken open and that felt a bit sour and spiritually bypassing for me--and I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to capture gratitude and makes lists of how I could tackle the next step. I shared this with a friend over text today and she--no stranger to grief--advised me to let everything go and just feel it. I don't need to name it, I can just feel it. It won't last forever. And I felt a release. Now I read these words and it feels like validation upon validation. Many thanks.
So happy to offer this validation to you! We have to learn to let ourselves just stay broken for a while, before we can move on into *anything* else, I feel.
"stay broken" - counter to what so many healing modalities would tell us...and rings so true.
The choice we make between remaining broken or allowing ourselves to be broken open is a powerful and life changing one. There is so much to feel broken over, as you mention, though we must continue letting the light in. Thank you for this powerful message and beautiful poem James. I hope to use it as inspiration in my writers gathering next Sunday.
I'd be honored for you to use this in one of your gatherings! xoxo
Thank you James! 💕
Beautiful poetry and prose, James. I must order your book. Go easy 🩵
Thank you, my friend. You go well, too.
I have never considered, nor heard, this distinction between being broken versus broken open. And how powerful and instructive it is! Thank you for this and also for connecting it to the larger ideas of service and the grief at events in our world.
I can't take full credit for this distinction. I believe I heard Mark Nepo speak on this issue recently.
I truly appreciate this article and the distinction you’ve made between “being broken” and “breaking open”-like most of us, both have been part of my experiences. This week, I’m aware of straddling both as new losses occur. It is good to have friends and even poems available as a friend when we need them. Thanks for “walking me home” tonight, James.
Very happy to walk you home, Amy, as we all take turns. I'm sorry to hear about these fresh losses, and send you some peace and ease along the way.
Sometimes it seems pain is like an abscess. We try to keep it inside, hoping it will heal. Hoping nobody will notice our discomfort. But the only cure is to open it up and clean out the harm.
A friend on here, Mitchell Bakst, in one of his poems says: "The only cure for grief is grief."
Thank you for the wise observation and words. They truly moved me.
I'm so glad to know that.
Thank you for writing about this distinction. I have had the experience of both and agree there are time one just feels broken and needs to lean on the light of others. When I allowed my grief its own journey I did discover over time I too became broken open. 💜
Thank you for sharing that, Laura.