GUEST POST by Laura Miller

I’ve been reading posts, links & blogs

I started comparing.

That’s really good ,
it speaks to me
I’m not sure what the message is but I love the way she says it.
That was powerful
I wish I could write (think) like her
The stuff I post is mostly fluff
Well maybe sometimes not but
anyway it’s just for laughs

I compare –

and am dissatisfied and touchy,

and a bit green

Transparency and authenticity get tossed

Lock up vulnerability – too distressingly painful

The Divine Spirit speaks

Is your name Jane or Lisa, or Dana or Judy?
Have you forgotten your name?
Have you forgotten your life?
Is an orange any less a fruit than an apple ?
Is the hand any more important than the foot?
Have you lived in Jane’s body?
Or walked in her shoes?
Has Dana walked in yours?

But they see things I don’t

They’re transparent and authentic

They’re courageous and bold

It just seems to pour out of them without effort

They sound so sure of themselves

How do you know?
Is that for you to say?
Can you read their minds?
Were you there when I created them ?

* * *  *

You stepped over the threshold and through the open door
Why are you lying on the ground crying?

Because I compared and tripped.


One response »

  1. THAT… is authentic and transparent and powerful.

    I believe this piece will ring true with other women reading; because we all compare. We – particularly as females – learn to compare early and often, measuring ourselves not against God’s picture of us (most of us don’t even know what that is, or are told by a patriarchy that has a vested interest in shading and tinting that picture to favour themselves and their preferences, rather than the Divine’s) but against other humans. And in the process we lose our selves and our individual, unique, reality.

    The third and fifth ‘stanzas’ have me nodding, sighing, biting my lip in rueful agreement – I could sign my own name at the bottom of those aching phrases. As for the conclusion – that sort of simplicity is the most honest beauty of all. Tears of compassion.

    Thank you for two things: first, your own lovely frankness in writing and sharing this, and for allowing it to become a guest post. Second, for its impact on me in a Spirit-timed way, because guess what… I’m writing stuff for the Bardic Circle, except I’m not…I’m dragging my heels in ‘research’ and ‘fact-finding’ and ‘looking up’ and other words that disguise my fear to put my own work and thoughts and gifts and feelings and talents out there, and disguise the fact that I’m, um, comparing. Rochelle’s shiny site. Sara’s rich blogging. Ellen’s prolific tweets. Kristine’s deep body-awareness. The lovely graphics, the wow newsletters, the persuasive emails, the impressive resumes, the letters and courses and credentials…

    But none of that is important when I look over my own shoulder and see the passion that comes off me when I’m helping a child, or demonstrating an art technique, or listening actively to a friend, or letting my art flow out of my fingertips in word and image, tone and tune and shape. When I care for someone, share an experience, hold out a guidemap, pray in power or offer encouragement – when I glow, or even sparkle, as truly me, truly Judith, truly bard… there are no yardsticks. It doesn’t matter if I have ten talents or one. Or if that one talent is in copper nuggets or silver bars or gold coins. It’s how it is spent and what it is spent on; the deep glowing passionate heart of self with God’s fingerprints baked in.


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