Guides Can Be a Source of Support

I’ve talked this week about trauma, especially unsupported trauma. This is where an event or situation takes place that overwhelms a person’s nervous system (their fight/flight/freeze/fawn response gets stuck in the “on” position), their brain senses a threat to them, and they feel powerless. And then they are alone with these feelings or when they try to reach out for support, they’re ridiculed, told they’re wrong, told not to be “so negative” and to only “think positively,” or otherwise invalidated.

I’ve said that sources for that support can (hopefully) be friends, family, partners, therapists, and coaches.

Another source of support is your guides. Spirit guides, angels, animal spirits, beings of light, all can provide you with that needed support and validation.

I hear two primary arguments from people about looking to guides.

1. Relying on non-corporeal beings is not as effective as relying on people physically present in your life
   
   
2. Guides aren't real

Let’s take these one at a time.

Relying on non-corporeal beings is not as effective as relying on people physically present in your life

It’s different, yes. No question. But different doesn’t mean worse or less effective. We’re trained to trust what we can see, smell, touch, taste, and hear. We’re not often trained to trust what we feel energetically.

Religion works really well for some people. And I’m sure they’d say that relying on God or Jesus or Allah or Hashem or Brahman or El or any of the other thousands of deities found in human religion is at least as effective if not more than relying on humans. Humans can let us down. Humans get caught up in their own lives. Humans forget. Humans sometimes put their own interests before others.

If you’re lucky enough to have a human in your life who has never once let you down, then more power to you. By definition, trauma survivors have known the less pleasant sides of humanity. Many of us have been betrayed, hurt, rejected, and worse.

 

Guides aren’t real

What reality are you talking about? The reality where people have a near-death experience (NDE) and their lives change? The reality where people experience miraculous healing, and their lives change? Or maybe the reality where there are numerous stories about a rescuer—tow truck driver, paramedic—who, when asked about later, no one has ever seen or heard of?

Or how about my reality? The one where the more I worked with my guides, the more I healed, the more I was guided to people who could continue to help me heal, the more I began to trust myself, love myself.

Look at the results. If a person has a mystical or spiritual experience, meets their guides, or is the recipient of what might be called a miracle, and as a result, they also experience more joy, more love, more peace, and more healing, then I’d encourage them to continue.

If, on the other hand, their health and relationships deteriorate, they trust themselves less, and they live in a constant state of fear, anger, or numbness, then whatever they’re doing isn’t working.

That said, with the hundreds of people I’ve worked with (professionally and informally) over the years, helping them with their guides, not one of them has suffered as a result of relying on guidance.

What “living the life you’ve always wanted” really means

I say that I’m about helping people to live the life they’ve always wanted, the life that they were taught they couldn’t have or didn’t deserve.

Let’s talk about what that means. And what it doesn’t.

It doesn’t mean that all your wishes will come true or that your guides operate as genies or that your life will magically become easy, and you’ll never want for anything again.

Here’s the thing—well, three things—which I’ll be talking about again:

1.       We don’t create our lives in a vacuum.

2.       Everyone does not have equal access and resources.

3.       Guides are not a quick fix.

 

We don’t create our lives in a vacuum

Despite what many Law of Attraction teachers say, manifestation doesn’t occur solely because you really want something and visualize it and think happy thoughts about it all the time. And not having what you desire doesn’t mean that it’s your fault and you just didn’t want it badly enough.

The truth is that we co-create this physical world. And we have free will. And all choices come with consequences, some of which are pleasant and some of which are unpleasantly unpleasant. Further, some of those consequences can last for generations or centuries. We live, to some degree or another, with the consequences not only of our own choices but also the choices of others.

And that leads me to…

 

Everyone does not have equal access and resources

Everyone has access to guides and their resources, yes. Not everyone is comfortable with that, for any number of reasons. But I’m talking specifically about access to and resources for the life you’ve always wanted but were taught you couldn’t have or didn’t deserve.

You can have some form of the life you’ve always wanted. And you do deserve it, simply for existing in the world. But how you get there may be easier or more difficult than it is for others, depending on what obstacles are in your way. What obstacles, you ask? Those same obstacles that are the consequences of others’ free will choices, which includes (but is not limited to) racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, inequalities in employment, housing, education, medicine, and law, food insecurity, and disability.

If you face one or more of these obstacles, it does not mean you can’t have the life you’ve always wanted. It does not mean there’s no point in trying. It means that it might not look like others’ lives, it might not even look like how you think it should look, but it will give you the experiences you want in your life. And your guides can help you.

Which brings me to…

 

Guides are not a quick fix

Quick fixes are popular. What’s not to like? Do something that requires minimal effort, minimal time, preferably minimal cost, and get what you want. Sounds awesome, right? Whether it’s in the form of something you ingest, something you apply, something you wear, something you keep nearby, or something you use in another way, these quick fixes can make our lives easier, more comfortable, more convenient. But they don’t always (or even often) create lasting, permanent change.

Some people do teach connection with guidance as a quick fix. They have you listen to a meditation, meet your guides, and then—voila!—you can ask them anything you want and get answers. I saw one promotion for an inexpensive, self-guided, online class where you’d allegedly learn to connect with your guides and then life would become easy. Rainbows and unicorns.

Guides do not dispense vending machine advice. What they offer is a partnership with you. What they offer is a relationship. And that takes some time and effort.

 

What “living the life you’ve always wanted” really means

Living the life you've longed for means learning to trust yourself and your guidance to discern what is for you to do yourself, what is for you to do in community, and what is for others to do (or stop doing). It means learning that you are not broken or unlovable, that there is nothing wrong with you, and that you have permission to have the life you’ve always wanted. It means asking for help and support. It means showing up and taking action to make that life a physical reality.

It is not our guides' job to intervene to make life more fair, or to even the playing field, or even to ensure that all human beings are treated with dignity. It's not their job to intervene in our free will at all.

What they can do is remind us of the truth of our divine essence, help us experience what we came here to the planet to experience, and guide us to truly know authentic, messy, tear-stained love of self and others along the way.

Soul Guides: What I Do . . . For You

Can you guess which of the following paid occupations I've NOT had?

1. Law clerk

2. Mental health counselor

3. Journalist

4. Researcher

.

.

.

.

.

That was...a trick question. I've had all of them. But I want to talk a bit about my work as a mental health counselor.

In the early 1990s, I was hired by a residential addiction treatment facility for women who were pregnant or had children under age three. My job was initially to create a relapse prevention program that offered additional resources and tools to residents who were survivors of trauma (most notably child and domestic abuse). I then began counseling these women, as an adjunct to other required therapy, on how they could cope with their manifestations of trauma instead of self-medicating.

In this facility, we focused on those who self-medicated with drugs or alcohol, but there are many more who self-medicate with shopping, gaming, gambling, sex, relationships, self-harm, food, exercise, and on and on. It was the beginning of trauma-informed addiction recovery there.

Fast-forward thirty years and I’ve healed decades of abuse I endured. I've raised two children to healthy, well-balanced adulthood. I've been through my own intense trauma treatment with EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing) and Somatic Experiencing®. I live a trauma-informed life.

I am not a mental health counselor anymore. I’m not licensed and I don’t practice therapy. I also don’t consider myself a healer. I do, however, offer coaching.

What’s the difference?

Here's my take:

A therapist helps a person heal their present by addressing what led them to this point (e.g.: trauma, core beliefs, emotional avoidance, etc.). Especially in clinical settings, it requires a "problem/ solution with measurable progress" paradigm. It is the surgery of the psyche, going after the root of the issue.

A coach helps a person change their present by addressing their thoughts, beliefs, and actions in the present moment and moving forward. It can operate as both problem/solution and also support/ celebration/accountability. This is the physical therapy of the psyche.

A healer helps a person change their present by addressing their energetic and physical health in the moment and moving forward. This is the medicine of the psyche.

While there are some overlaps, they largely have their own areas of focus.

When I’m coaching, we honor the past and acknowledge that it has an impact, sometimes profound. But we don’t go digging for it. We don’t go back to the past to try to heal it. That’s for therapy, which I usually recommend be trauma-informed.

Instead, we focus on the now. And that’s where intuition and soul guides—mine and yours—come in. Because guides can see patterns and what can happen if you continue to engage in the same patterns of thought, belief, and behavior. (Some humans, including me, can do that too. Guides are better at it.) 

If you’ll pardon a food metaphor, you’ve been picking at a plate of rubber chicken, cold lima beans, and undercooked Brussels sprouts for a lot of your life, because that’s what other people told you that you were supposed to want. That’s the life that would please others. It doesn’t please you.

You want a plate of, well, your ideal meal. Food that makes your taste buds come alive and your brain sing with dopamine. Some people—and sometimes society in general—have told you that you can’t have that ideal meal because of who you are, or because of your race, your income, your religion, your sexuality, your gender, your job, your weight, your intelligence, your mental or physical health, or something else. 

Working with your guides and/or your intuition is the fork or spoon (no sporks here) that is going to get that ideal meal to your mouth, bite by divine bite. (Usually not all at once; divine stomachaches are not a walk in the park.)

And I offer more than one-on-one coaching, because not everyone is into that. I’ve been writing articles for years on these topics, and I have a new book coming out later this year: 10 Things Your Soul Guides Want You to Know: Especially if You Have Anxiety, Depression, Chronic Pain, or PTSD*   *With arguments and questions from a human with all four 

If you’re at all interested in any of this, sign up for my weekly email list, with informative articles, resources, book updates, fun with guides, and more: https://bit.ly/SheynaGalyanNews

For more information: https://linktr.ee/sheynagalyan

The Journey to Love: Healing Birthday Trauma

Photo by Tore F on Unsplash

As I write this, it’s my birthday.

Like many trauma survivors, my birthday has never really been a day of celebration and joy. Rather, it’s been a collection of traumas big and small, a message layered year after year that I’m not worth celebrating.

Until this year. Because this year, with a lot of help, I processed the trauma around my birthday.

I see now how I was taking other people’s words and actions (or lack thereof) and making it about me. That’s easy to do, and a normal part of child development. And as happens with trauma, we can get stuck with unprocessed trauma, in the same stage of development we were in when it happened. So the child who blames themself for being unlovable, as children do when they are rejected, overlooked, ignored, punished unfairly, and so on, becomes the adult who blames themself for being unlovable. And every time those old wounds get triggered by current words or actions (or lack thereof), it’s taken as proof that the old wound’s message was right: I am unlovable.

When we process the trauma, we can separate ourselves from it, create a more empowering belief from it, and place it appropriately into the narrative of our lives that makes us who we are today.

But it must be processed. And to process it, we have to be honest about how we feel, be willing to feel the emotions, accept that the emotions are a natural and necessary part of who we are as human beings, express those emotions in a way that does not cause harm to ourselves or others, and love ourselves on the other side.

---

The day before my birthday, I sobbed. I grieved for the child who so often was rejected or ignored. I grieved for the child who believed that a pleasant birthday experience had to be earned. I grieved for the child who never wanted to have another birthday because it was only a reminder of being unloved.

I had a call with my coach that day. Knowing she’s a safe person, and our calls are sacred space where I can freely be my full self, I sobbed in front of her. She saw my tears, witnessed my grief, and heard my pain. And when I had shared enough for her to understand why birthdays were so painful, she gently reminded me that what others say or do (or don’t say or do) does not diminish my worth one iota.

An image from my three years of EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing) trauma therapy came up. In the image, I was standing on a crowded beach, in pain. Everyone around me was wearing sunglasses, but as I looked more closely, I realized that some of these glasses didn’t just block the sun. They also blocked the ability to see others, or others’ pain, or only certain people.

It wasn’t that they didn’t care. It was that they couldn’t see me. It’s no one’s fault, including mine, and it also doesn’t change who I am. How others see me (if they do), has everything to do with their perspective (glasses) and nothing to do with who I am.

I am neither diminished nor elevated based on how others perceive me, including if they don’t perceive me at all.

---

On the morning of my birthday, I woke with a physical feeling in my body that what others say or do is not about me. And making it about me is what I as a child did because that was developmentally appropriate for a child. I don’t need to do that anymore.

I felt a complete separation between what others say or do and who I am. I felt in touch with the truth of who I am as a spirit being of love. I felt joyous. I felt loved by the universe. I loved myself.

At 11:56 p.m. the night of my birthday, I saw the clock and that internal, critical voice noted, “Only four more minutes of my birthday, and then it’s over.”

“No,” I said aloud, shaking my head. Because every day is a day to celebrate the truth of who I am, to love myself, and feel loved by the universe. Every day can feel like my birthday, and I can celebrate everyone who comes into my life and invite them to celebrate love with me.

Every day is another opportunity to experience life from a place of love. Every day is an opportunity to truly know that we matter.

On Confession, Denial, and White Privilege

Image by Betty Martin

I’m white. I’m Jewish. I’m an abuse survivor. And I’m a former mental health counselor and current soul guides coach with a specialty in adult survivors of trauma. This collection of experiences and perspectives comes together and leads me to invite my fellow white people to be with me here in the pain and grief and rage and powerlessness in this week following the murder of George Floyd by Minneapolis police.

I invite you, fellow white people, to be here with me and to consider another perspective.

We Jews don’t do individual confession the way Catholics (and perhaps other Christians) do. On Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, we recite—five times—the Viddui, a prayer for the confession of sins. And what makes this different and unique is that we recite it communally. We all confess to the same failures, whether we know we are guilty of them or not. We do this for a few reasons:

1. As a communal people, a tribe, what one of us does, it affects our entire community;
2. We are creating a sacred space for those who know they need to confess, but don’t want to admit it;
3. We are acknowledging that even if we don’t think we’ve failed in this particular way, we know we could have unknowingly, and that we have the capacity to do so.

In the Viddui, we confess to failures such as being self-destructive, betraying ourselves and our families, stealing from others (including time, energy, attention), being impulsive, stubborn, ignorant, and this one, especially now: we have diminished the importance of others.

We Jews have historically always been on the side of the underdog. We’ve been the underdog. In some places in the world, we still are. And we are all, Jewish or not, much better at empathizing with the victim than the perpetrator. We can’t help but imagine what Mr. Floyd’s last few agonizing minutes were like, we see the injustices and feel angry and called to protest them in some form, and we place our solidarity with those who have been wronged.

Most, if not all of us, know what it feels like to not be able to breathe.

My invitation for you today is to step away from that perspective for a few minutes. Make sure you’re in a safe space, as you do this, and if you also have trauma in your background, that you have support people nearby, physically or virtually. Begin to take deep, easy, rhythmic breaths. Any distracting thoughts can be let go for now. They’ll return when you need them. Feel the support beneath your body and allow your muscles to relax. Then, focus on your heart, on the love you have for others, the love you have for yourself, the love others have for you.

Remember that we as human beings are all connected energetically. On one level, we are all George Floyd. And that means we are also, on one level, all Derek Chauvin.

Saying that we are all George Floyd gives us a sense of righteous fury, of fighting for equality and justice. And for all of us who are white, it means being less likely to be shot down (literally or figuratively) for that. Because like it or not, believe it or not, the reality is that we have white privilege.

Saying that we are all Derek Chauvin? That has an entirely different feeling to it. And I would submit to you that almost no one wants to say that and mean it. But that’s precisely what I’m asking you to do right now for this exercise.

In the same way that we confess in the Viddui that we have caused pain to others, say silently or aloud, “We are all Derek Chauvin.”

What feelings come up? Denial? Anger? Disgust that I’d even suggest this? For many, the immediate reaction is, “No way, I am nothing like him.” But that’s not the point. The point is not whether you, an individual, have acted (or even thought) like another individual. The point is that we are part of a community that has, and that continues to, treat Black, indigenous, and other people of color as less-than. We are part of a community that has discriminated in housing, employment, social services, policing, law, and education, among others.

That’s the discomfort I invite you to be with. The discomfort of knowing that we are part of a community that has caused pain, betrayal, that has stolen futures and lives.

Am I suggesting that you are equally guilty of murder? As an individual, no. As a community, yes, we are. And here’s why: The people we vote for, the people we trust, the people we defend, the people we elect to lead us, the people we give our money to—these are the people who have written the laws and policies and contracts and rules that have led to where we are today.

When we as white people elect a racist person to lead any part of our community because that racist person values businesses and profit and property over the quality of life—and the lives themselves—of Black, indigenous, and other people of color, then we are part of the problem. When we as white people make excuses for police brutality because “the people they arrested shouldn’t have done what they did,” we are part of the problem. When we as white people use racist language and excuse it by saying we mean it as a joke, we are part of the problem. When we give money—in donations or by using our purchasing power—to racist and white supremacist business owners, we are part of the problem.

In myriad ways, we are part of the problem that has led to where we are today. And we are part of the solution. But we can only be a part of the solution by acknowledging and owning our collective responsibility, our communal sin, and how the decisions we and those who came before us made, how the way we have bought into even subtle systemic racism, have created the Derek Chauvins of this world.

Be with the discomfort, the anger, the denial, the disgust. And recognize that those feelings are there to point you in a direction toward healing. None of us want to be Derek Chauvin. So, what are you going to do to atone for our communal responsibility? Whose voices will you amplify? Who will you invite to speak at your organization? Who will you vote for? What petitions will you sign? Where will you donate? What will you repost? What words will you choose? How will you show up in your life, in your family, in the world?

Our communal responsibility is not a sentence of punishment. It’s an opportunity to do better, to be better. Will you take it?

Uh...

Uh…

“Um,” “uh,” “you know,” and “like” were verbal diarrhea, according to my eighth grade speech and debate teacher. He added that using words like this made us sound stupid, and I did not want to be seen as stupid, so I threw myself into eliminating every filler word possible.

Two years later, working a summer job, I drafted my legal research on a pro bono case involving the definition of the word sunset for my father, a well-known attorney in the south San Francisco Bay Area at the time. Rather than rewriting it, he thought it good enough to present to the judge as I’d written it. Then he asked me to accompany him to court for the case.

The judge recognized immediately that it wasn’t my father’s writing style, and asked who wrote the brief. My father said I did, and motioned me to stand. Then the judge addressed me.

“What do you want to do for a career, young lady?”

“Um…” I began.

I didn’t tell him I wanted to be a writer, because my parents already convinced me I’d never make any money at it, and I should give up that dream. I didn’t tell him I wanted to be a psychologist, that I wanted to guide others toward healing emotional wounds, because I’d already been lectured on the “soft sciences” not being real science. I told him I was thinking of law school.

I wanted his approval. (He was a judge, after all.) I wanted to present an image that others would approve of.

For the next twenty years, I did my best to perfect that image. I called it my mask. And behind it, I was dying. I didn’t want to always look and be professional and competent and constantly prove myself and subject myself to judgment every time I opened my mouth. I wanted to live in jeans and go without makeup and give voice to the voices in my head—those of my guides and those of the characters that had stories to tell.

I had a 90s power suit, was the assistant to the executive director of a university business department, and spent a good deal of time on the phone soliciting money from wealthy donors. I wanted to write and watch the clouds go by and eat ice cream messily.

In my thirties, I got that chance. I had kids. And I wrote two novels. And I spent a lot of time looking at clouds and hunting for Little Boy’s Other White Sock.

Now I’m just into my fifties, my kids have become well-adjusted young adults, and I’ve embarked on my true love—even beyond writing: teaching others how to connect with their soul guides, their intuition, and their joy, and how to use those in every aspect of their lives. In making this shift in my work, judgment came back. How should I dress? How professional do I need to look? What should I say?

Uh…

But here’s the thing: I don’t want another mask. Now, when you get me, you get me, ums and uhs and awkward silences and all.

There’s actually a science behind all those filler words. Sometimes I use them to let others know that I’m trying to find the right word, that I’m not done talking yet, or that I’m trying to sift through my thoughts and all the input my guides are giving me. (It can be very noisy in my head.) So, Mr. R. in eighth grade speech and debate, I understand what you were trying to teach us, and, um, I reject the sacrifice of authenticity to the altar of image.

And now, in the middle of this global pandemic, when millions are unemployed in the United States, and we’re all stressed to some degree about who’s going to get sick next and if they’ll survive, and what about the economy… I encourage you to give yourselves a break. Accept all your ums and uhs and live in denim if that’s your gig and embrace who you really are, not the image you’ve been trying to project.

We have enough false images in the world today. It’s time to be real. And whole.

The Three Children

The following is a story I wrote over twenty years ago, as a way to understand multiple covenant theory (that there is more than one divine covenant with humanity). I'm guided to share this here, now.

This is a story about a Mother with many children. The Mother, like mothers who came after, had difficulty getting Her children to behave. Sometimes the children would disobey and get hurt; other times they would hurt each other. Distraught by the pain which they so unnecessarily endured, the Mother decided to make a contract with Her children.

Like all mothers that came after, She began by explaining, "I love you and I don't want to see you get hurt; besides, we are running out of Band-Aids. You are old enough now to take on some responsibility around the Home, so..." and She outlined the contract. The Mother would protect them against harm, make sure that their needs were met, and provide a special dessert after dinner every Friday. In return, the children would respect one another, treat new kids on the block with kindness, keep themselves clean, and wash their hands before dinner without being reminded.

All the children protested and wanted to know why things must change. But the Mother knew the children were not yet old enough to understand why, and so, like mothers who came after, explained with, "Because I'm your Mother."

A few of the oldest children, led by Her first-born, accepted the terms of the contract. They had experienced enough of the Mother's stern lectures that they knew when to stop arguing and do as they were told. Not that this was easy for these children, for to this day one can hear the occasional "But Mo-om!" echoing throughout their Home.

The younger children, however, had a more difficult time with this contract, and the Mother realized that She had not made this contract accessible to all Her children. So, after thinking about it for a while, the Mother came up with an idea. She gathered her younger children around Her and said, "I love you and I don't want to see you get hurt. I know that the contract I made with my oldest children doesn't allow for some of your needs and the differences in how you learn. So I am going to ask one of my oldest children to teach you by example."

The Mother then went to Her oldest children, a few of whom were in the middle of a game of Monopoly. Several of those children were arguing over the payment of a Community Chest card when another knocked the board over and said, "Come on, you guys, this isn't about money; we're supposed to be having fun and playing by the rules. Mom wouldn't like it if she saw us fighting." Another group of the oldest children were reading books to each other in a corner, looked up briefly at the interchange, and cautioned the outspoken one, "Shhh! You'll get us in trouble."

The Mother watched all this with a mixture of concern and amusement. Then She pretended to have just arrived and said, "I need a volunteer to teach the younger children how to behave and what I expect from them."

The oldest children looked at each other and then back at the Mother. "Can't we teach them as a group?" some asked. But the Mother knew the younger children would learn best from an individual, and explained as much. "Well, how about him?" the children in the corner said, indicating the outspoken one at the Monopoly game. "He likes talking to us about the rules."

The Mother looked at the outspoken one, who said, "Okay. I'll do it." And so, the Mother explained that there would be a different kind of contract, and She would use the input of this one child to adapt the terms to the needs of the younger children. She also cautioned him to be careful, because his new status could bring about both great praise and great pain from those around him. The outspoken one nodded and said, "Whatever it takes."

The younger children learned well from him, and the contract was adapted to their specific needs. But the youngest children still had a difficult time, and the Mother realized that their needs had not been met by either contract. And so She thought for a while and came up with another idea. She gathered her youngest children around Her and said, "I love you and I don't want to see you get hurt. I know that the other two contracts I made don't allow for all of your needs, and while you have learned some from the the others, I think you need someone else to teach you, to whom you can relate better."

The Mother then went to one of several of her oldest children who had never accepted the first contract. They were busy playing around the sandbox, building elaborate castles and then enacting a variation of capture the flag. She called one child aside, and said, "I want you to teach my youngest children how to behave and what I expect from them. I have watched you playing with your brothers and sisters, writing your stories, dreaming your dreams. I believe my youngest children will relate best to you. I will teach you anything you don't already know, particular to my youngest children's needs."

And so, the one child taught the youngest children, and they learned well from him.

Are there children who accepted none of the three contracts? Of course. Some insist on being rebellious, some have only recently been born and are too young to be accepting such responsibility, and many others—like the Children who were often seen camping and taking nature walks—have made other contracts. But that is for another story, another day.


Copyright © 1997 by Sheyna Galyan

If I Belonged

> When did it start to feel like… Like you fit? Like you…belonged here?
> Well, I'm still not sure I do.

If I belonged

Really belonged

I wouldn’t feel the need

To prove myself

To show my worth

To defend every action

Every desire for connection

Every longing for love

If I belonged

I wouldn’t feel like I was trespassing

On someone else’s territory

Fearful of triggering

Someone’s anger

That I had overstepped

My bounds

Taken what was

Not mine

Expected more than

I was owed

As if friendships are transactions

And love can be meted out

In weights and measures

I don’t know how to belong

Without being invited

How do I differentiate

An invitation

From my own longing?

Carving out a place for myself

Evokes images of sharp edges

Blades cutting and slashing

Creating a space

In the absence of a welcome

I’d rather nestle in

Where space is made

With the intent

That I should fill it

A me-shaped space

A perfect fit

But this requires

The involvement of others

One in which

Belonging can never be

A one-sided decision

I see now

This is belonging

Among people

What if this is too narrow a focus?

Can I belong in the world

Without people being involved?

Why should other people

Have the power to decide

If I belong?

Am I beholden to them

For my existence

Simply because I’ve never felt

What it means to belong?

What if belonging

Is a state of being

And not a status

A rank granted

Only if one meets

Subjective standards

And pays one’s dues?

If I belonged

As a state of being

I could stop apologizing

For being who I am

If I belonged

As a state of being

I would have just as much right

To happiness and joy

To love and fulfillment

As anyone else

If I belonged

As a state of being

My needs would be important

Should the cabin lose air pressure

One of those oxygen masks

Would be for me

And I could secure it on myself

With gratitude

If I belonged

As a state of being

Then should others

Overlook me

Forget me

Ignore me

Try to erase me

I have a right

Even an obligation

To speak up for myself

To fight for myself

Because I belong

And I will not be erased

I belong

And I have a right to be happy

I belong

I do not need to carve out a space

Or nestle in to one existing

I will make my own space

In the world

And invite others

To stand with me

To sit next to me

To share with me

And if I sometimes feel

Like a fish out of water

Because belonging

Has been foreign all my life

Then I will be that fish

Who learns to live on land

Big plans for that fish

Don’t step on me

I belong.

PTSD: a poem

⁣​you hide

in shadows and behind 

darkened memories

looking for a weakness

a way in

a break in my flawed façade

just a crack

a whisper

the chance to turn

dream into nightmare

laughter to tears

hope into ruin 

love to loss 

you wait patiently

for me to fail

to forget to be

protective of this new life

the one I built

created with my own hands

a metamorphosis of self

reinvented 

a family to call my own

a home

a place to belong 

to be

you hide and wait

to destroy me

with nearly-forgotten pain

but I will not

will not let you

because this time

I have something

to live for

Copyright ©2017 

by Sheyna Galyan

sheynagalyan.com

Touchstones

I recently returned from my first trip to Israel as part of a tour group from my synagogue. I'm still processing it, but was able to capture some of what it meant to me in the following poem.

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Touchstones

From the concrete and glass of the airport

To the plastic and fiberglass of the plane

Crowds and hushed whispers and sleep that would not come

It was night and then it was morning—twice over

The first days

Venturing out into the heat

I am awestruck by this city of stone

Modern yet historic

Creating new technologies

While honoring those who fought for this space

From start-up to start again

Failure is but a step

Along the path to tikkun olam

Inspired by an idea

Brought to life with a speech

As we rise and sing.

Tunes familiar and different

Yet the same genuine smiles

We welcome Shabbat

Though we speak different languages

To say the same words

We want to learn and understand and know

What do you make from your life?

Are you ever separate

from the bedrock of this place?

And it was evening and it was morning. The third day.

Words of Torah

Written in sand, in stone

Who are we if we act based on what we fear

Instead of who we know ourselves to be?

On the shores of the Mediterranean

We look into the past

And see ourselves.

Driven by a vision

A thirst for both water and freedom

Hiding in plain sight

Fighting to make an idea manifest

A homeland

A makom kavua for am Yisrael

One volunteer at a time

One bullet at a time

While the giraffes look on

I stood in this place

Where they sang about peace

Only to be silenced by a gun

I touched the stone

And was moved

Then it was evening and morning

The fourth day.

A morning talk about happiness

About haves and have-nots

One thing is clear: when we have ice kafé

We are happy

From the serenity of biblical gardens

We share our gratitude by planting trees

Hope for the next generation

While honoring the walls

That keep us safe

As we travel deeper into the mystery

The visions of the merkavah

As we place ourselves in the sefirot

And ourselves become the Tree

Planted long before

And it was evening and it was morning

The fifth day.

An oasis of beauty

Leads to more stone

Solid walls of justice

Through the gate that bears

The language of our ancestors

And our new friends

A stone that proves we were here

In ages past.

I want to touch it

To connect here to there

Now to then

But there is no need

I am here

In this place

It is enough.

Loud booms shatter the stillness

Smoke etches the sky

As hate wreaks more destruction

We watch, safe on our mountaintop

As the air shudders around us

And we remember

Peace is a choice

In every moment.

Then with wine and chocolate and water

We celebrate with our Muslim cousins

There can be laughter

As we navigate the rapids

Of our lives.

And a shared meal

With friends we hadn’t yet met

Brings us back to our center

The why of it all

It is the connections we make

That bind us together

And it was evening and then morning

The sixth day.

From the youth of today

To the leaders of tomorrow

From the graves of those who came before

Who left us to be the caretakers

Of their children, their legacies

To the stages that once teemed with Jewish blood

And now resonate with music

We travel the last leg home

Ready to embrace the stone at the center

The heart and soul

Yerushalayim

And it was an evening of lights and a morning of light

The seventh day.

We slip into a tunnel

Beneath the heart

Surrounded by stone

Silent with the weight of history

Layers upon layers

It serves as a reminder

That connection with the holy

Requires we go deep.

As we approach the Kotel

The energy is thick

With prayer and emotion

All of life’s struggles

That are too heavy to bear

Are brought here to this wall

Seeping into the cracks

Our hopes and dreams and longing

Becoming the mortar

Touching stones worn smooth

With tears and caresses

And words uttered in pain and joy

Never meant for human ears.

There are claims upon these stones

Sacred places, sacred lands

And the lines are neither simple nor clear

Truth can be a mirage

Not found on any map

As the sun sets and rises again

The eighth day.

A song of descents.

Even as we rise

In the blistering heat

From the top of a camel

To the top of a mountain

Our tether to this place

Tenuous as a cord

We ponder martyrdom

And the price of freedom

And what it means

To truly fall.

Mountain to sea

Dry stone to sticky mud

We descend until there is no more to go

And for this moment

As we rest and lean back

Peace floats around us

And it was evening and then morning

The ninth day.

Every gain has required loss

Every hope comes on the heels of despair

And this Hope

This place

These stones

Mark both ending and beginning

Their memory haunts us still

We honor them

With a place and a name

And will never forget.

As Shabbat comes to us again

It sinks into every sense

Everything we have experienced

Every food tasted

Every song sung

Every stone touched

We will carry with us always

And it was evening and morning

The tenth day.

It is art that speaks of who we are

Who we were

The lives we led

So it is fitting that we end our journey

With art that gives purpose and brings joy

The art of architecture and the art of love

Knowing that the shreds of who we were

Can be molded into new strength

And become the touchstones of our lives.

As we begin the long flight to the west

Home now has two meanings

And I can live in both

No matter where I reside

And it was evening and it was morning.

Copyright ©2017 by Sheyna Galyan