Underfoot Poems

It's happened again, and again, and again. Scuffed sequins, strewn and trampled underfoot, crushed petals and rough stones, glinting, tiny treasures that I can't even pull into proper focus.

"Scuffed and grubby. She pointed out that hearts in that condition are even better to love because there's no pretending from the offset. Rough with smooth. What you see, you get. In a way that makes things easier, doesn't it? You're allowed to come with your story."

[from Feb 11th]

The story in these little underfoot poems reminds me–repeatedly–that we are to be loved for the quality of our hearts, not judged for the way we look. We can take on the disguise of 'looks right, so I approve', and go along with being judged for how our lives appear. However, real love, and therefore, life, is about getting down and dirty with all the grit, comfortable with a helpless, public playing out of our vulnerabilities. Don't get me wrong, this is really hard to let go to! But In the face of things done and said that are inherently judgemental and diminishing, it becomes even more important to remember this. The judge who throws you out on the basis of your looking a bit messy–colouring outside the lines–is actually behaving out of their own fears. Steer clear.

We have all been scuffed and strewn, all have moments of shining or being crushed. Are we brave enough to believe that in the honest state we will be honestly loved, and further, hold out for this?

{Today's Soundtrack: The xx}