Settle, Girl

My dear April,

Got off our call and asked: “Why does that hurt so much?”

Answer: turn the dial down on ego shouting “You really aren’t lovable.”
Also, downgrade the ego. Lay it down for a rest.
Stop trying to be the most interesting person in the room.

Hibernate some.
Winter some.
Try on seasonal resting — from dosing, from growing.
Let the layers settle like sediment.
Let the high-spirited horse calm the fuck down.

Settle, girl.

Fears noted.

A text arrived just then: Yes, we can carpool if “Full of Yourself” — Women’s Erotic Power Retreat — calls to you.
I paid the money. I’m going. With a new reciprocal peer woman-friend, willing to be full of herself.

Score.

The last installment of the day came from a woman with wild hair (cause she likes it that way) and many wrinkles. She asked me to stay after and read my short essay.
I said: “It’s not very good.”
She said immediately: “That’s why it’s called a shitty first draft.”

Before we parted, she asked me where I live.
I told her: five blocks from here.
Because I moved from my 20-acre retreat center, where I hosted women’s trauma recovery retreats with my Zen Buddhist husband.

She paused and reflected back:
“That explains why you have such calming, grounding energy.”

I told her I got my ass handed to me earlier by a beloved gentle guide — someone who mirrors back gems that can be exquisitely painful.
So I came to class a mess.

Thank you for saying that to me.

What you reflected back to me, April — it’s helping me exhale.
It’s helping me breathe easier.
I don’t feel like I have to come in hot all the time now.

Yes/And.

All my love,
Diane