I resume complacency
It’s a dagger to my spirit
Friendly it is not
But it feels good.
I muster strength to break it
Or I’m swept forward by simple gestures: try this…go here…do that…
And then press pause and
resume complacency.
~Nikki, The Soul Reporter
All I know is lonely It's normalized by now It's like being incarcerated within my own skin I don't move much beyond it I'm trapped. Stuck. Unable to feel. Connect. I know it causes loneliness for those in my life.
It is November's final day Then comes December. I find myself quiet and contemplative Tears want to fall, but can't— Lexapro numbing— It is both a loss and a relief. I like being at the corner of the couch Gazing at the tree Snow has fallen It is windy and cold. A question comes to me: What do I need to get out?!?! There is a lot of internal and external weight Enough to cause my feet to ache So I plan to make a list of what to get out And follow it little bit by little bit Until my feet feel light. ~Nikki, The Soul Reporter
My body knew, for weeks, something was coming. Dreams were foreboding. The Power Path reported- September: Crisis.
I assume what is happening is the crisis. I really don’t want to go into it now. But at some point I will. However, I do want to share some lessons I am learning, not necessarily new ones, but occurring in a deeper and more impactful way.
~Nikki, The Soul Reporter
Life.... I’m not getting my life right Nature.... She will keep destroying you until you see what you’ve done The Way Back Trail.... The Way Back Trail is more Relaxed and refined There’s a calmness to it A way of knowing The steps slow The air breathed A smile I’m not trying to get anywhere I’ve been A broken tree.... There She is again Within Her a touchstone Circles of life that tell Her Story Unburdened now by life, A relic of her life For me to wonder about To receive a lesson Back to the Way Back Trail.... The Way Back Trail is a gift I hope all receive It tells you more about those layers, those circles within So many circles They accumulate It’s important to sit and rest along this trail And listen, feel, understand And say thank you And ask: What do I need for my soul? What does my deepest nature want? ~Nikki, The Soul Reporter
Evolution moves slow and steady. I once believed I could clear wounds enough to transcend my upbringing— To not be my mother. What cleared are protections that made me function and survive. My daughter said to me: I like seeing you struggle— A once controlled and efficient mother now stumbles a bit. Bring on the staggering And the unease of failing And seeing the apple does not fall far from the tree. It is true some improvements were made Maybe I'll see more as I age But for now I acknowledge evolution is slow And at least it is steady. For we are not efficient machines We are human with hearts and needs We store treasures from ancestors and thieves. Keep going. ~Nikki, The Soul Reporter
What’s underneath this madness? Devotion?
I cant see a future without him now that I’m standing at our death door. It was fun to play with the idea of leaving when I was still in a familiar hallway.
Now I am numb again. Familiar only to my pain, and not ours.
But it will return.
Rumi says, keep digging your well, water is there somewhere.
Is it devotion?
~Nikki, The Soul Reporter
Might as well find the joy while the world burns, right?
I am shutting the doors, I have decided, to where the trauma lives.
I am not shutting the door because I want to avoid what is there.
I am shutting the door because for 30+ years all I have done is open these doors.
Within the rooms I have explored, processed, dug deep and long.
There has been healing and transformation. Incredible insights and connections made.
There has also been torment.
So today I messaged the therapists and the energy workers and said, thank you and goodbye.
I want to enjoy my life for a change, I said. I want to hear my inner voice again.
I have seen hell, so may as well turn around and see what else there is.
~Nikki, The Soul Reporter
I feel like I move through quicksand to return to you Grasping, climbing again and again... ~ These tiny spurts of running These tiny words of poetry They may all amount to something A marathon or a book Or just may be tiny spurts So I don't sink into the sand To say at the end I never stopped grasping. ~Nikki, The Soul Reporter
My husband just airdropped this to me. Turns out in 2012 I used to write posts like this, and share them to subscribers. The reminder makes me wonder why I don’t really write anymore and that makes me sad. So since I’ve no new material, here’s something old and still relevant.
The Soul Reporter 