
Feature photo by Felipe Galvan on Unsplash
âWhen the whole world is entrenched in the bunker of physical and often emotional isolation, only flexibility and ingenuity can revive us to remain grounded and imbibe the bolstering sunlight piercing through the canvas of chaos.â Erik Pevernagie
Whether itâs socially, mentally, or physically, being out of your comfort zone can be unbearableâmore so for some than others.
During the pandemic, weâve had hard decisions to make, all of us, knowing whatever decision we made for ourselves would impact the loved ones in our bubble whoâve been riding it out with us. Theyâre not only counting on surviving it themselves; theyâre counting on you to survive. A year is fleeting compared to a future without the people you love.
I always remember what my younger sister would say when things were not so great. âItâs temporary.â And what I used to tell myself, âLife is an adventure, part of which is figuring out what to do with every challenge thrown at you and then rising through the challenge.â
The restrictions, added to other stressful political and personal situations, have been tiring. They certainly brought out the ugly in some and the beauty in others. There are people in my life whoâve been sick with Covid or lost loved ones to the virus, and, at least for the time being, the spark I used to see in them is gone.
Finding ways to cope with even simpler things like wearing a mask and the constant handwashing and disinfecting is frustrating, yes, but we are warriors and survivors, and I love that about us. It comes down to preserving yourself for when you can get back the life you want. Itâs definitely a time we need therapeutic measuresâincluding ways to escape.
Sure, it was easier for most of us writers. I worked on several books, wrote poem after poem, read one book after another. Those were all things I could never wait to do, so, believe it or not, it was exciting.
Taking walks has always been an excellent balance for working in isolation, but thereâs a lot of construction going on around here, where I live. Long Island is the suburbs, but my neighborhood, right now, looks like a rundown part of the city.
My son, who never cooked much in the past, decided to watch all these cooking videos and learn to make all these incredible meals from scratch. He became a great chef and managed to lose weight in the process because he worked out daily while doing his job remotely. All of it was a great confidence builder and kept him motivated!
Working out whenever, wherever, makes you feel good (well, afterward, at least đ).
As for me, along with whatever else I was doing, Iâd think crocheting might be enjoyable or maybe guitar lessons, but then Iâd have to buy a guitar. So, another pastime I had was deciding what place I wanted to move to and then, from time to time, check out what houses were for sale there. For a while, it was Norway, then Germany, then Amsterdam. Right now, itâs York, in England. Yes, I want to move to York. I do very much, want to move.
And who knew Iâd rediscover Super Mario Brothers and become so good at the Dr. Mario game? (Listen to me, bragging!) Well, it helps your coordination and response time. That is good for me. đ
Music was another Godsend.
Weâre so lucky, too, to have the internet for connecting with everyoneâbeing able to talk to people all over the world about how theyâre coping with the very same thing. I canât imagine how people managed crisis after crisis in the dark ages. But they did!
And what I love most is the fact that laughter gets you through everything. You canât ever lose your sense of humor. I was joking with a cab driver the other day about neighbors who never knock on your door, and suddenly, during the height of a pandemic, they come a-knocking. And itâs to tell you something like thereâs a piece of paper outside your door, an advertisement. Uh, thank you?
No! Donât bring me things when we are in lockdown! Do not knock on my door!
He and I laughed so much about that, joking back and forth because you have to. Sometimes people mean well, I know. And sometimes they donât.
Another day, I got a letter in the mail saying that my neighbor (mentioned by name) is a disgusting boyfriend-stealing whore who will sleep with anyone, and her family deserves better than that. High school shit or something youâd expect to see on Desperate Housewives or maybe Jerry Springer. Its author used cut-out letters like a ransom note and pasted a biohazard symbol at the bottom. Itâs not what healthy people do. Itâs more so the work of a narcissist dragging everyone into their bullshit. They are experts at character assassination.
How dare they, right? Whatever happened between these people is their business, and I donât care. Imagine someone cutting out all these letters to make a note like that? And God knows how many of these the person sent out! I found it appalling. Not my circus, not my monkeys, as they say. Come to think of it, I donât have any of that chaos in my life these days, and I like it like that.
Aside from the heartbreak I feel as so many are still struggling to cope, I also have this stubborn enthusiasm that we may finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. And that has me talking up a storm lately with an energy I havenât put forth in a while.
Hold on to your peace however you can, and you will be okay.
âI can be by myself because I’m never lonely; I’m simply alone, living in my heavily populated solitude, a harum-scarum of infinity and eternity, and Infinity and Eternity seem to take a liking to the likes of me.ââ Bohumil Hrabal, Too Loud a Solitude
This collection consists primarily of poems written during the COVID-19 pandemic, a time of loneliness and rumination.
Lyndonâs poetry stems from intense emotions that swing from one end of the pendulum to the other as she captures the agony of love and loss, along with innocent joy and lighthearted fun.
Each poem is an earnest response to life, love, and everything in between.
Here is one poem in the collection.
SAME OLD NEIGHBORHOOD
The neighborhood hasnât changed,
But the draperies on the windows have been swept aside.
We see you.
Telling someone to go back to where they came from,
To the place where they had no voice
And no choice.
That place where they were beaten,
Neglected and shamed,
Where they never felt safe,
Never had a chance.
Oh, theyâd love to go home,
But, home isnât home anymore.
The neighborhood hasnât changed,
But, the fanfaronade has consequences.
We hear you.
Itâs not just words.
Itâs not simply freedom.
Itâs a weapon to harm and destroy.
To punish those who arenât the same.
People just like you commit horrific crimes,
But you donât identify them
Only with crimes because they mirror you.
People just like you hurt you and fight you and hate you
But, you donât see them all as threatening because they are you.
The neighborhood hasnât changed,
But, many more of us want to live here only in peace.
You can make that happen.
So many beautiful people Iâve known in my life
Were those people you rejected,
And they were full of warmth and kindness and wisdom.
You donât see them because theyâre not the same.
The neighborhood hasnât changed,
And neither has any divine love for all who live here.
Like you, we are sacred.
All is sacred every moment of every day.
WHAT READERS SAY
âShe has the ability to convey to the reader some of the most complex thoughts into words that truly reach our hearts.ââ Love Books
âHer lyrical voice speaks with careful observation and passion. In the narrative mode, she is masterful in reading life around her. Kyrian possesses the sensitivity, insight, and soul of the true poet. Her writing provides a primer on how to compose meaningful poetry.ââLou Jones
***
Please let me know if you are interested in obtaining an advanced review copy or if youâd like me to notify you about any upcoming giveaways. There will be a few chances to win a copy in the forthcoming months!
Happy Reading!
Note – The photo above the poem is the back cover of my poetry book, Remnants of Severed Chains, designed by KH Koehler of KH Koehler Designs.
Brave Wings is a new online magazine that focuses on the human conditionâwhatever we experience in life that helps us learn, grow, and evolve. Sharing perspectives about healing and empowerment can be exciting and helpful, but we also want to provide entertainment and fun while sharing the beauty of creativity.
Some of the topics we will cover:
Adversity, anxiety, artist(s), authors, books, writing (editing tips and experiences), childhood, classic literature, codependency, compassion, creativity, depression, dreams, ego, evolving, feeling unworthy, fiction pieces and excerpts, fun, giving back, gratitude, grief, growing, healing, hope, humanity, humility, humor, inspiration, interviews, judgment, learning, letting go, life, loss, love, mental health, narcissism, oppression, panic attacks, parenting, passion, poetry, politics, prejudice, reading and reviews, recovery from addiction and trauma, relationships, religion, romance, sadness, self-sabotage, self-care and self-love, shame, stigma, stress, and tolerance.
For entertainment, we are interested in short stories and book series (all genres). Weâre interested in humor.
For creativity, we may be interested in photos, handmade products, something that showcases your talent.
Content for submission will include blogs, videos, audios, slideshows, and photographs. Please see the submissions page for instructions on how to submit!
We will not pay for submissions at this time. However, we will always share your work on our social media sites, and we encourage all contributors to share magazine contents submitted by others on their social media sites. Helping one another with exposure is what will make this site work.
In addition, we will provide the following for all contributors to the magazine:
A listing in the contributor section, where more information (links, etc.) will be added with each contribution. The most frequent contributors may also have a few of their books, products, or recommendations in the listing.
The opportunity by contributors to submit news that provides opportunities for artistic communities, as well as their own business events and significant personal news, all of which we will share on our social media sites.
Access to the chat room (as a moderator, if they prefer), and the ability to hold monitored topic meetings to promote their talent/business.
For those privileges, you must be a regulator contributor. There are no deadlines. However, you must have contributed at least twice with acceptance and publication.
We do intend to have a community that includes a discussion forum and chat room where we can present topics hosted by contributors.
Our Announcement page will provide news of available opportunities within the artistic communities, including contests and contributor events.
We will post book reviews that are submitted by contributors, but we donât assign books for review.
We will post interviews by our contributors if they are relative to our platform. If you feel you are a good candidate for an interview, contact us at submissions@bravewingsmag.com.
If this venture is a success, we may eventually monetize and pay for content.
For those interested in getting involved, we may also need editors, site moderators, group moderators, page moderators, etc. who will have contributor status. Those most involved will be given domain e-mail addresses for the magazine. We have four more available, so if you love this idea, the opportunity is there to get as involved as youâd like.
Another thing Iâm tossing around is whether weâll have a group or newsletter for interested parties, so please, please, weigh in with your thoughts about everything! All suggestions are welcome!
Please visit our site at Bravewings.mag.com, and feel free to follow or subscribe.
You made me laugh,
And I forgot all the tears.
You helped me up,
And I forgot the times
You let me down.
You were hatred,
Just as surely as
You were love.
You were everything right
And everything wrongâ
Humility and
Defiance,
Cruelty
And kindness,
Approval and
Contempt.
You were everything
And nothing.
I had to let you go,
And it freed me.
Still, Iâm sad,
For I know
Who you might have been.
I know you so wellâŠ
But you do not know me. – Kyrian Lyndon
from Remnants of Severed Chains
Book cover design by Jah Kaine via jerboa Design Studios.com
Feature header photo by ara ghafoory @araghafoory
Poem copyright © Kyrian Lyndon 2015
The robin in your tender heart
Hungers for the red berry
That titillates your tongue.
She carols as the snow fallsâ
And not with the chorus of the dawn
In radiant spring.
What might have been?
Your voice silenced,
The spirit of you
Destroyed,
I see glimpses of your fire
From the light that has vanished
From your eyes.
Your wings soar,
Only not to follow
Your heart.
And your heart is that of
A child,
Deeply vulnerable,
Precious,
So sensitive,
And sweet.
You inspire me
To change my perspective
With your unique vision
Of the world.
You shine with your brilliance,
And you donât know.
Your bursts of laughter
Make me smile.
As always, you are the light
In my darkness;
Your spirit is the fire I feel
In the sun’s warmth.
You were the dawn of my awakening,
And the splendor of my dreams.
And I have cried
For your heart
More than I have ever cried
For my own.
I am torn apart by
The intensity of your pain.
It is profound sadness
I feel,
When I think Iâve reached you
And then hit another wallâŠ
Hard.
I fear losing you forever
To your grief,
As I grieve, too,
For the subtleties
And cues
You donât understand.
Avoiding the eyes of others âŠ
Your intense frustration
In trying to get it right,
And thinking you have it all wrong.
You have it right,
So rightâ
Always did,
Always will.
I only wish you could know
The joy
Of being free.
The tentative smiles,
The looks of uncertainty,
Prompt me to tell you,
You got this.
Youâll be fine.
Whatever the passion,
Let it burn.
It will save you.
Retrieve every shattered fragment
Of your soul.
Accept it,
Embrace it,
Bless it with your peace.
Give it mighty and glorious wings,
And let it fly where it leads
Without fear,
Into the twilight of an infinite sky.
Be happy,
Shine,
Glow.
Love,
Dance,
Sing.
Celebrate yourself
And don’t stop singing
Your life’s song.
The song is your vision,
Your passion;
It belongs to you.
Without it,
You wither and die.
Don’t you, for one moment,
Let anyone crush your beautiful spirit.
Know, too, those who have crushed you
Have been crushed.
Those who pain you have been pained.
Still, you can rise again,
Become completely alive again
And shine on,
Just as you did before all the hurt began.
You are not defective,
My dear one,
Not a burden,
Nor do you struggle alone.
Iâm here with you.
I will always be with you.
You are
In every way
Beautiful.
Though you donât see that,
And you never have.
I just love you.
© Copyright October 9, 2016 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission.
Sometimes we lose someone who may not have been that close to us, yet we think they should have been. Those ties were supposed to bind but didnât. Instead, they turned out to be so weak, they broke a little more at every difference of opinion, every instance where we stood up for ourselves, every time people looked at us and didnât see themselves. Maybe it was some argument, someone elseâs stupid meddling, someone’s denial. Maybe it was all because of lies and fragile egos, people trying to turn one against the other, smear campaigns, and the rush to judgment.
So there was a death that day, but we didnât lose the person then. We lost this person long ago, and it broke our hearts a thousand times already. Is this someone we really had or truly knew? We lost that chance. We lost to the dysfunction. Not even the obligatory love and commitment could save it. It got to a point where suiting up and showing up simply hurt too much.
Somewhere along the line, we’ll see some display of genuine family love and laughter, and we want that, all the while wondering why we didnât get it, and so we grieve that.
Yes, we mourn what we couldnât have, and death is not only a reminder; it is the finale. We say goodbye with so much weight, with a burden too hard to hold. There are holes that will never be filled, stories that will never be heard, never told, and scars that wonât heal. There is grief in isolation. Itâs more than sorrow. Itâs devastation.
You miss what you wanted that to be, but you donât want it back, not any of it.
Quite honestly, it becomes clearer to me every day, how complicated grief is with all of its added dimensions.
People celebrate certain individuals and shun others. Maybe the shunning was because of addiction or disease, or maybe it was the wrong sexual preference. I don’t know. But one mother and child may have the world to grieve with her, and so she should. In the other case, a parent and child can go through hell with no one comprehending the loss or caring. Others simply deemed the person mourned unworthy for something beyond his or her control, while others are worthy regardless of their choices, because their choices were ones people could relate to, things people didnât fear for lack of understanding.
I think about these things⊠and all of lifeâs unfairness. Life is not fair, nor will it ever be. Accepting that helps but doesnât heal. There are moments we canât handle anymore, not just then, no, and we shut down. We have to. And we ask, whatâs wrong with me that I feel this way? Whatâs wrong with me that I see these things others donât see, that I canât accept what they accept? Whatâs wrong with me that I couldnât fix it, couldnât explain it, couldnât stop it, didnât protest, cried alone? You say, what if they had heard my heart? What if we had resolved all of this? But they wouldnât have heard, and it wouldnât have gotten resolved, and we know it. We have to deal instead with feelings of unworthiness, our inadequacies and our excuses, our humanity, and our pain⊠so much pain.
The burdens we share should inspire universal love and compassion. It does for me, and yet all I see is ever-increasing hate in the world. Another reason to grieve. Itâs no wonder I would rather write and live in my own little world than continually bear witness to the imbalance, the insanity.
Oh, I know grief has its profound beauty. We can experience joy, happiness, sadness, hurt, and none are permanent states. They are moments that come to us, moments to awaken us, moments to experience with all of our hearts. In that sense, we must embrace every one of them. And I do.
âNothing that grieves us can be called little: by the eternal laws of proportion a child’s loss of a doll and a king’s loss of a crown are events of the same size.â â Mark Twain
The Most Beautiful Piece On Loss and Grief
Coping with Grief: Guided Spoken Meditation for Healing After Loss of a Loved One
© Copyright February 5, 2016 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission.
I know what it’s like when your mind doesn’t stop – the thoughts, the ideas, the worries, the obsessions. Many people struggle, and I think it’s important to not only acknowledge that, but to share how we have been conquering one battle after another. It tells others they are not alone in their struggles; that things can and do get better.
The shame many of us live with often begins in childhood where we are not able to sort out what is ours to claim and what is not. Ultimately, the combination of what is ours and what we take on as ours can be difficult to bear.
Some people, in the throes of their hidden shame, are afraid to be seen authentically, and maybe even afraid to see others as they are and allow them to shine. The serpent that bedevils us is ego. It is an ongoing effort to keep that sucker reigned in and right-sized.
Shame traps people in a fear of failure/fear of success mindset, two sides of the same coin. The result is the same, more ridicule and shame. Many feel they don’t deserve success, and there are some who pacify themselves believing that others don’t deserve it either.
But we all are all capable of learning from our mistakes, growing, changing, and finding happiness. It depends on whether we heal or not. External validation is  a temporary fix until we resolve things internally. Past turmoil is a boulder we carry everywhere we go. Some hold it up forever while others chip it away, one piece at a time.
We heal when we come to believe we deserve better, and we do. For some, that healing takes a long time and some, sadly, never heal.
But if the process of healing has begun in another, patience is key, as beautifully expressed in this piece by Jeff Brown @ http://soulshaping.com/
“Emotional armor is not easy to shed, nor should it be. It has formed for a reason- as a requirement for certain responsibilities, as a conditioned response to real circumstances, as a defense against unbearable feelings. It has served an essential purpose. It has saved lives. Yet it can be softened over time. It can melt into the tender nest at its core. It can reveal the light at its source. But never rush it, never push up against it, never demand it to drop its guard before its time. Because it knows something you don’t. In a still frightening world, armor is no less valid than vulnerability. Let it shed at its own unique pace.”
We have no idea about anyone else’s pain. We don’t know how hard they’ve tried to bear it. Addiction and obsession will distort perspectives and impair judgment, and addiction and obsession are not simply about narcotics or alcohol. The world we live in and the circumstances of our lives heighten sensitivity, and it all begins when we are too small to comprehend it.
Toss Your Expectations Into The Ocean
18 Ways You’re Making Your Life Harder Than It Is
© Copyright August, 2014 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission.
Featured Photo by John Hain
I had a dream about you last night and woke up crying. I couldnât sleep after that.
In the dream, you were angry with meâfull of anger, full of hate. You had shut the door on me and left me out in the cold. I kept calling to you with a childâs unbearable anguish. You didn’t hear.
At some point, I cried, âHelp me, daddy,â and finally, you came. I thought you were going to hit me or hurt me with your scarred and violent soul, but you didnât. You hugged me. Well, you didnât just hug me. You gave me the kind of hug Iâd wanted from you since childhood, the comfort I always needed, and I didnât want to let go.
I miss your smile and your jokes, Dad, your handsome face, and all of your wisdom, but I have to ask. Does a father realize he is the first man a girl gives her heart to completely? The first man she trusts blindly and devotedly? Did you realize?
I used to think I was hard to love.
Whatever people saidâmen especiallyâI wanted to believe them. Deep down, I didn’t. Not a word. And every time a man took something from me that I didnât want him to have, every time a man tried to silence me, belittle me, or make me doubt myself, I punished him, pummeling him with words and crushing him with goodbye. I could be angry with them but not you.
What if things had been different between us, though? Would I had been less vulnerable or had the confidence to be my authentic self, knowing I was worthy and lovable? Would I have chosen more wisely? Would I have stopped running and hiding, oblivious to my weaknesses and my desperate needs? Would I have respected myself more? Might I have found someone I could love, for real? Someone who could have loved me back? Because I didnât let them … I made sure they couldnât.
Well, no matter, thatâs all changed now. I picked up the shattered pieces of my heart and began to love myself.
Itâs hard not to feel that twinge of emotion when I hear father tributes of the heroes who boosted confidence and taught children to believe in themselves. I honestly wish everyone could beam with that pride, feeling safe, content, and protected in that eternal bond.
Itâs easy to defeat someone when you have all the power, when you are on a pedestal from the start, and you make all the rules. You can create vulnerability and punish the very same, though you donât mean it. You can erase oneâs humanity because of your denial, your self-loathing, and your shame, though you’re not aware. You can damage a person almost beyond repair. And, after the wrecking ball, cleanup of that wreckage rests solely on those tiny shoulders. Yeah, those shoulders get bigger, but somehow it all gets harder and more complicated.
I cleaned up that mess, though. The void lasts forever, and many people can attest to that, but I got those things I needed. It just takes ongoing effort to hold on to them.
And by the time I had a child of my own, I knew all too well what a child needs. I was able to give him that, but I couldnât give him YOU. Oh, heâs brilliant and kind and funny, and so very loyal. Like you, heâs hard and strong but with such a tender heart. He needed you, and he still needs you, though heâd never admit it now. Heâd been shattered right along with me, but we rose to the challenge, and he loves with his whole heart like I do. Iâm proud of him, and Iâd like to think youâd be proud of him, too, but it doesnât matter now.
Look, maybe you didnât give me what I needed, but you gave what you had. I saw a brave and modest man, generous with assistance and adviceâa hero to many, and I know why they love you. I know why I loved you. Sure, itâs easy to love someone when you think they are perfect; when you hold them up on a pedestal and pretend they are everything you need and always wanted. You fell off that pedestal when I was twelve, Dad, but I loved you so much, flaws and all, and I still do. Thatâs unconditional love, and though you couldnât give that to me, you still get it. Because guess what? You deserved that, too, from the people who didnât give it to you.
Yeah, I knew why you were the way you were, though you accepted no excuses from me when I fell short. You could never understand me, but I understood you. Though you couldnât hear me, yours was the loudest voice Iâd heard in my entire lifeâa voice that continued to bellow in my ear for a lifetime. It kept me from standing up. It kept me from fighting, and it kept me from winning until I did all those things because I couldnât lose any more. I climbed in spite of you, because of you and for you, because you couldnât do it yourself, and I understand that.
When you were angry, devastated, and tortured, I tried to tell you it would be okay, that I was sorry for you, and that I loved you, but it seemed too much for you to bear at the time. Then, in the end, I forgave you, and you forgave me. It took a lifetime, but we got there.
Sigh. There are many things we never got to do, Dad, and itâs too late now. Youâre gone. But I do have some fond memories of you that I will cherish always.
And hereâs what I wish.
I wish I could go back in time with youâto those boyhood days when you were punished severely for no good reasonâwhen you were invalidated, shamed, ridiculed, and ignored, just to tell you how awesome you were, and all you could be and do with your life. Iâd say I believe in you, and that you have everything you need to succeed. I would say over and over that I love you to the moon and back, so you would know how worthy you are of that love. And maybe you would have grown up to be what you wanted, and have felt no shame. Then when it was your turn, you could have done the same. You would have known I was not an extension of you and didnât have to represent you or your ideals. Perhaps you would not have expected such a conformist âgo with the flowâ type of kid who didnât make waves but sang to a song you couldn’t possibly hear. You would not have lost empathy. You wouldnât have cared how others saw me or what they would think. Youâd have simply treasured me for the person I am. Imagine that!
The aching in my heart is that I want that for everyone. I wish all men and women who didnât get what they needed as children would give that and get it back in abundance however they can. And Iâm infinitely grateful to every hardworking mom and dad who gets up every day ready and willing to get it all right, including you.
Rest easy, Dad, and know you will always be in my heart.
âChildren are the most fearless souls on earth.ââ Lailah Gifty Akita, Think Great: Be Great!
Further Reading:
10 Ways Strong Women Move Past Their ‘Daddy Issues’
Why Dads Matter â Especially to Girls
© Copyright May 31, 2016 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission.
The robin in your tender heart
Hungers for the red berry
That titillates your tongue.
She carols as the snow fallsâ
And not with the chorus of the dawn
In radiant spring.
What might have been?
Your voice silenced,
The spirit of you
Destroyed,
I see glimpses of your fire
From the light that has vanished
From your eyes.
Your wings soar,
Only not to follow
Your heart.
And your heart is that of
A child,
Deeply vulnerable,
Precious,
So sensitive,
And sweet.
You inspire me
To change my perspective
With your unique vision
Of the world.
You shine with your brilliance,
And you donât know.
Your bursts of laughter
Make me smile.
As always, you are the light
In my darkness;
Your spirit is the fire I feel
In the sun’s warmth.
You were the dawn of my awakening,
And the splendor of my dreams.
And I have cried
For your heart
More than I have ever cried
For my own.
I am torn apart by
The intensity of your pain.
It is profound sadness
I feel,
When I think Iâve reached you
And then hit another wallâŠ
Hard.
I fear losing you forever
To your grief,
As I grieve, too,
For the subtleties
And cues
You donât understand.
Avoiding the eyes of others âŠ
Your intense frustration
In trying to get it right,
And thinking you have it all wrong.
You have it right,
So rightâ
Always did,
Always will.
I only wish you could know
The joy
Of being free.
The tentative smiles,
The looks of uncertainty,
Prompt me to tell you,
You got this.
Youâll be fine.
Whatever the passion,
Let it burn.
It will save you.
Retrieve every shattered fragment
Of your soul.
Accept it,
Embrace it,
Bless it with your peace.
Give it mighty and glorious wings,
And let it fly where it leads
Without fear,
Into the twilight of an infinite sky.
Be happy,
Shine,
Glow.
Love,
Dance,
Sing.
Celebrate yourself
And don’t stop singing
Your life’s song.
The song is your vision,
Your passion;
It belongs to you.
Without it,
You wither and die.
Don’t you, for one moment,
Let anyone crush your beautiful spirit.
Know, too, those who have crushed you
Have been crushed.
Those who pain you have been pained.
Still, you can rise again,
Become completely alive again
And shine on,
Just as you did before all the hurt began.
You are not defective,
My dear one,
Not a burden,
Nor do you struggle alone.
Iâm here with you.
I will always be with you.
You are
In every way
Beautiful.
Though you donât see that,
And you never have.
I just love you.
Feature photo by Amy Treasure
© Copyright October 9, 2016 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission.
There are a few reasons I often choose to write about the difficult things I needed to learn the hard way in life. One reason is to create awareness and to advocate for people in similar circumstances. If I’m able to achieve that, I feel fortunate, and it’s one of the rewards of so many missed opportunities or hours spent in isolation. Then there is the “writer” perspective that every experience in our lives is good copy. Nothing should go to waste in this effortâno pain, no joy, and no humiliation. If it can’t be insightful, it just might be entertaining. đ
Now and then, someone will read what I’ve written and think, oh, that’s about me. The truth is, it’s probably about a lot of people. In certain life predicaments, you’re bound to encounter individuals with the same issues. You attract them and may even cling to them for a while because it’s familiar.
Personally, Iâve had to take inventory of my behavior over the years in order to heal, grow, and evolve so that I could do better. Iâve had quite a bit of healing to do. Even with a ton of work, thereâs always much more to do. And I know why people get stuck where they are. I understand that it’s never hard to go back there in a moment of weakness. I realize, too, that the culprits of our frustration come at us from a place of pain and fear, and that theyâre suffering, too. đŠ
As trite as it may seem, the main reason for writing what I write is to help myself and others heal and triumph in the process. It’s become a passion since I believe we can’t possibly have enough willing contributors to global and collective healing.
Sometimes, however, we donât know how much more we can take. We’re already dealing with the worldâs latest and ongoing horrors. We’re trying to achieve our goals, live our dreams, and at times face overwhelming disappointment. Meanwhile, the relationships we have with people, through all of these circumstances, often determine whether we have the strength to continue or not.
Conflict resolution is important. To save myself a lot of time and energy, not to mention a whole lot of anguish and pain, Iâve had to learn the telltale signs that there is no hope for resolution. And you can bet itâs a lost cause when youâre dealing with emotional manipulators who will exploit your vulnerabilities.
It happened to me about eight years ago in a recovery group. Not surprising, since people in recovery are learning to reign in ego and recognize character defects so they can become better people. Itâs more often about helping one another do that rather than tear each other down, but it doesnât always work that way. Iâm still, on occasion, dealing with the repercussions of that. But it’s one example. Emotional manipulation goes on between people in many different scenariosâwork, home, social media, yeah, just about everywhere and all the time.
These people wonât tell you the truth no way no how because they donât trust you (and thatâs because they know you canât trust them) or because they have too much invested in the opposing perspective. They donât want to understand you or make allowances or hear explanations. They make assumptions rather than ever ask what the deal is, and they wonât disclose those assumptions. That would make it too easy for you to correct their misinformation. They would rather not argue than admit they could be wrong and deny you the privilege of ever confronting them about anything. You donât have the right to see them as anything other than the generous martyrs they perceive themselves to be. Theyâre doing you a favor by being in your life, and everything they do is out of the goodness of their hearts (because they are so nice and so much better than you). And they donât even realize this is what they are saying in so many ways.
They might even align themselves with people who want you to fail and withhold support for your efforts. Why? Because the naysayers, well, thatâs usually the bigger group. That’s the group they want to belong to, and fit in, reaping the attention, admiration, and approval they so desperately need. In light of that, you are expendable. Not that they would see it that way. Itâs a heartbreaking thing to come to terms with if you have an ounce of empathy. It brings more guilt and shame no one needs.
You can try asking outright if youâve done something wrong, but theyâll say no and then continue to demonstrate that they have little regard for you. The ones who are conscious of what theyâre doing will use aggressive behavior if  thatâs what intimidates youâbecome a combative bully or enlist one to do their dirty work. Whatever they learn about you, they will later use it against you.  Get ready for the smear campaign with people playing both sides. You donât need the drama, mama. Run.
Now, while I may want to extend the same compassion for them that I extended to myself in making peace with the past, itâs hard sometimes. Nothing stings more than being part of someoneâs self-serving charade. They value their image and their pride more than they value you, and I believe we should be with people who do more than tolerate us but celebrate and cherish us as we do them.
There is no good reason for allowing anyone to shatter our self-esteem, undermine us at every turn, and shake whatever faith weâve managed to muster in ourselves. Itâs futile, itâs painful, and it destroys us. We donât owe anyone that. Itâs an absurd self-sacrifice. Itâs codependent, and they wouldnât likely do it for us. Who can afford the constant message these people impart to us, that we are not worth it? Many of us have spent decades fighting to get rid of that message, and we donât want it back.
So we have to let it all go with love. Walk away with our dignity and self-respect, and protect ourselves from further harm. Because to resolve anything, we need two people who care enough about each other to listen, both willing to own their part in whatever happened.
Bottom lineâwe have to take care of ourselves. And those times when we feel like giving up are the times to be especially nurturing to ourselves.
We tend to think, in moments of distress, so many people have it worse, far worse, and weâre lucky. We have so many reasons to be grateful. Yes, thatâs true. Itâs relative. Perhaps the guilt alone, thinking of what people around the world have to endure while weâre merely battling egos, makes us feel selfish in complaining.
Weâre not, though. It is tiring. Itâs exhausting. Itâs frustrating and at times, devastating. Those feelings donât simply go away because we feel weâre not entitled to them.
I can say, whatâs helped me most, through everything, is seeing life as a challenge. Whatever I had thrown at me, I wanted to rise to meet the challenge and thrive. Sometimes I didnât want that immediately, but give me a little time, and Iâm stepping up. That works incredibly well. If I didnât know when to shut down, when to preserve, protect, back the hell off and breathe in some self-love, I could assure you; I wouldnât be here.
At the same time, I donât blame people who feel theyâve had enough and want to give up entirely. I hate when people call them selfish. Iâve said for years, especially if you bring a child into this world; you just stick around. You have no business bringing a child here and then giving up. I clung to that in the worst possible times, and it was a no-brainer. I wasnât going anywhere. It remained the number one reason I never quit my dreams or my life or gave up the hope that things can and do get better.
Still, if that doesnât work for another person, my first thought is, Iâm not in his or her shoes. I donât know how hard they tried. I didnât feel their pain, especially not the way they felt it. I donât know their threshold. I donât know how frightening it was to be inside their heads. I do know it can be terrifying to think you are losing it and canât hold on. Sometimes itâs selfish to expect people to go on while theyâre in so much pain so that we can still have them in our lives.
And I wholeheartedly want everyone to go on. I want everyone to heal, to succeed, to live their dreams, and to find their happily ever after. No one asks to come here. No one who sat giggling and gurgling on the rug, playing with their fun little toys, had any idea what the future held.
I do believe, though, thereâs enough success to go around, but Iâm not always sure about love. Many things get in the way of loveâunrealistic expectations, rivalry, ego, and I tend to think if everyone gets enough love from the start, we wouldnât have all these problems, especially with each other. Maybe fewer people would go wrong in life. I donât know. But I think, weâd be less inclined to give up on people, because theyâd be less inclined to give up on us.
Louise Hay – Affirmations and Power Thoughts
Eckhart Tolle – Free Your Mind and Learn to Let Go
Jim Carrey’s Secret of Life – Inspiring Message
© Copyright May 4, 2016 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission.
Sometimes we lose someone who may not have been that close to us, yet we think they should have been. Those ties were supposed to bind but didnât. Instead, they turned out to be so weak, they broke a little more at every difference of opinion, every instance where we stood up for ourselves, every time people looked at us and didnât see themselves. Maybe it was some argument, someone elseâs stupid meddling, someone’s denial. Maybe it was all because of lies and fragile egos, people trying to turn one against the other, smear campaigns, and the rush to judgment.
So there was a death that day, but we didnât lose the person then. We lost this person long ago, and it broke our hearts a thousand times already. Is this someone we really had or truly knew? We lost that chance. We lost to the dysfunction. Not even the obligatory love and commitment could save it. It got to a point where suiting up and showing up simply hurt too much.
Somewhere along the line, we’ll see some display of genuine family love and laughter, and we want that, all the while wondering why we didnât get it, and so we grieve that.
Yes, we mourn what we couldnât have, and death is not only a reminder; it is the finale. We say goodbye with so much weight, with a burden too hard to hold. There are holes that will never be filled, stories that will never be heard, never told, and scars that wonât heal. There is grief in isolation. Itâs more than sorrow. Itâs devastation.
You miss what you wanted that to be, but you donât want it back, not any of it.
Quite honestly, it becomes clearer to me every day, how complicated grief is with all of its added dimensions.
People celebrate certain individuals and shun others. Maybe the shunning was because of addiction or disease, or maybe it was the wrong sexual preference. I don’t know. But one mother and child may have the world to grieve with her, and so she should. In the other case, a parent and child can go through hell with no one comprehending the loss or caring. Others simply deemed the person mourned unworthy for something beyond his or her control, while others are worthy regardless of their choices, because their choices were ones people could relate to, things people didnât fear for lack of understanding.
I think about these things⊠and all of lifeâs unfairness. Life is not fair, nor will it ever be. Accepting that helps but doesnât heal. There are moments we canât handle anymore, not just then, no, and we shut down. We have to. And we ask, whatâs wrong with me that I feel this way? Whatâs wrong with me that I see these things others donât see, that I canât accept what they accept? Whatâs wrong with me that I couldnât fix it, couldnât explain it, couldnât stop it, didnât protest, cried alone? You say, what if they had heard my heart? What if we had resolved all of this? But they wouldnât have heard, and it wouldnât have gotten resolved, and we know it. We have to deal instead with feelings of unworthiness, our inadequacies and our excuses, our humanity, and our pain⊠so much pain.
The burdens we share should inspire universal love and compassion. It does for me, and yet all I see is ever-increasing hate in the world. Another reason to grieve. Itâs no wonder I would rather write and live in my own little world than continually bear witness to the imbalance, the insanity.
Oh, I know grief has its profound beauty. We can experience joy, happiness, sadness, hurt, and none are permanent states. They are moments that come to us, moments to awaken us, moments to experience with all of our hearts. In that sense, we must embrace every one of them. And I do.
âNothing that grieves us can be called little: by the eternal laws of proportion a child’s loss of a doll and a king’s loss of a crown are events of the same size.â â Mark Twain
The Most Beautiful Piece On Loss and Grief
Coping with Grief: Guided Spoken Meditation for Healing After Loss of a Loved One
© Copyright February 5, 2016 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission.
Way before my parenting days, I had only one reason for never giving up. It was the simple fact that one moment or one day could change everything. In the toughest times, I never forgot that. As long as I could take a breath, there was hope.
It often happens too, that after much worry and upset, after coming to the most catastrophic conclusions, everything turns out okay. Either that or we realize we were mistaken or had misunderstood. Still we probably had a horrible day or a horrible week. Maybe the whole weekend was horrible because of how we felt. We had wasted time and energy and for nothing, a time we would never get back. We could have been making precious memories instead.
These had been great reminders throughout my life, always helping me to bounce back, but how do we get to such a place? I recently stumbled upon this wonderful article by writer and motivational speaker, James Nussbaumer:
Wealth and Abundance is Rightfully Yours
The James Nussbaumer piece is also another take on staying in the moment, and as important as it is, no matter how many times we’ve heard it, it’s so easy to forget. Egos get in the way. Attitudes get in the way. We let everything get in the way.
Another beautiful gift we have, however, is the ongoing ability to change our perspective any time we want.
“The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company…a church…a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past…we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you. We are in charge of our attitudes.” -Charles Swindoll
This poem appears in my first book, “A Dark Rose Blooms.”
Â
SHADOWS OF MY SOUL
Reality to me is the dusk,
Prevalence in the shadows.
It is cloaking,
Grasping,
Discerning
In a world of darkness.
It is torment.
It is restraint.
The beauty of the peaceful lull amid the
Trees just before sunrise
Lies in contrast with the hazy tumult of my
Self-inflicted tomb.
I am in awe of every vision.
I bask in the passion of every caress.
Every bit of air I breathe is a godsend.
I could listen with the stillness of the ocean
Before daybreak
To the waves amid a blue-violet sky.
I could dance with flair and gaiety to the music
With a glow that illuminates me.
There is no one else Iâd rather beâ
Unless it were to love you.
You are all that I crave.
© Copyright March 1, 2005 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission from the author.
Feature photo by Sebastian Unrau @sebastian_unrau