Reaching out reaches in

The world is not set up for community artist-healers like me. There, I said it: I am an artist. I am a healer. I have sometimes identified as one or the other over the decades, but in this era of claiming my newest identity of wise, embodied, juicy crone (as distinct from the shriveled variety!), I am also claiming more fully than ever before these two other aspects of my self. I’m writing self with a small “s” on purpose, just to acknowledge that none of these identities are fixed, or even really “exist” in the world of the big “S” Self. But that’s a different rant.

For now, I want it known that I am an artist-healer.
Even if it’s only known to myself while writing (Do words on a blog make a sound in the cyber forest even when there is no one there to listen?)

And artist-healers just are and do what they are and do. People around them benefit from their gifts in the process.
This is a sweet deal, and I’ve recently had many experiences of this flow: supporting a therapist during a group process, a friend who’s been depressed and wanted counsel, a client who’s finally willing to take that first step towards self-care.
On and on the examples unfold with each day’s breaths, and sometimes, like now, I can breathe them back into myself, acknowledging the beauty of connection and self-connection that each one provided me, as well as these others.

This is why I am showing up for this blog – to reach, when my arms are tired, and rest in the knowing that the external world is not set up for the kind of tenderness some of us need to stay awake, aware and self-connected. It takes self-connection to reap more self-connection in the midst of the onslaught of “not-good-enough’s” from the world or within ourselves….

Thank you for witnessing my rant.
In the ranting came re-entry to presence.

September 2008