This art featured in my memoir, Incandescence: Rising Above Darkness is included as a moment of serenity between chapters and does not necessarily have any literal connection to the story.
Incandescence: Rising Above Darkness Excerpt Chapter #42 Part II. Longing For Belonging
I had surrendered my shields and stood bare before them, and those who did not like their own image in the reflective surface of my vulnerability shattered my mirror heart. Still water is easily disturbed.
Light blackness
Womb of worlds
Before the big bang
A minuscule speck
Containing all possibilities
Goddess blinks
Everything
We can imagine
Into existence
Moments before, I thought I had found someplace I thought I could belong. Then in the next instant, the dancing rainbows on the surface of my bubble burst.
Quaking leaf heart
Blown apart by winds of insecurity
No matter in the eyes of eternity
All troubles tiny as a caterpillar’s eyelash
Fear takes sweetness hostage
Everyone who loses
Confidence in their worthiness
Fuels fire of disdain
Hold tight to convictions
Let the wind of gossip blow
Respect your integrity
Do not feed the desire to contain
What cannot be contained
Fear fuels judgment
Love is the unshakable
Devotion to kindness
Stand for something
Become a target
Dare to trust
Be struck down
Know infinite love
Be hated
By those who do not
Love self
Go to the
Well of forgiveness
Drink waters of welcome
Love with exiled heart
Poem pure
Like a flower
Turned into snake
Strikes me
Venom transforms hurt
Into sweet forgiveness
When we got back to California, Christine reminded me of the dream I told her while I was visiting her in Italy. The night I slept with the shaman’s book under my pillow I dreamt it was Halloween, but I did not want to dress up. I just wanted to be myself. I went down to the water, and there were two native men, one was feminine and comfortable with me, and the other was masculine and threatened by me. An earthquake came, and I suggested we go into the water to get away from the rocks at the shore and float through the quake. After the shaking passed, we all walked up the dirt road, got in a white van, and drove away.
I went to the workshop hopeful and longing for belonging. I returned and shared my experience with the family therapist, who had known me for fifteen years. I asked him, “Is this strange I am feeling sad about women telling me I am pretty? Do you understand why?”
He answered, “I think I do. It is that you have worked your whole life on polishing an inner jewel that they don’t even see.”
At that moment, my longing for belonging faded into an appreciation of being seen.
Clare Cooley
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