SELF ACCEPTANCE (written after a weekend workshop)

SELF ACCEPTANCE

Red sweater, white blouse dropped over a pile of unread newspapers,
Wilted flowers in the vase, an unsorted basket of items from the dresser top.
A blue Eeyore atop a stack of books.
What significance is there in any of those?
They’re merely place holders for ease, convenience, love of beauty, childhood.

Neat or not, the room does not define me. It’s simply a metaphor, a snapshot,
Of a moment, a mood, a knowing, a need.

The meaning of a rumpled or a radiant room is as much a matter of conscious choice
As it is of tuning out what doesn’t matter right now.

Today, and I hope every future today, I will neither flinch nor prod myself
To accommodate anyone else’s standards.
I am the overseer of my bedroom.
It is my safe haven, my inanimate best friend.
No judgments here. I am loved and lovable.
I am total self-acceptance.
And that leads wherever it shall take me.