When did we learn to hide?
Probably most of us learned to hide when we were so young that we cannot even remember.
We hid because
we felt unwelcome,
or because we were trying to earn love.
We hid because we loved our parents.
And somehow we felt that if we came out of hiding we would upset or worry them.
Hiding became a habit,
and seemingly effortless.
As adults, we can find forty thousand reasons to continue hiding.
"It's too late."
"We might hurt someone."
"We have responsibilities now."
We can try to change our thinking but this does not always work.
Since our hiding came before organised thought or even words,
it does not respond to reasoning.
It does however respond to gentle daily stretches.
The Quakers have a beautiful saying "bringing the invisible into the light."
What invisible part of you could you bring into the light today?
What hidden part of you could you give a gentle stretch?
Could you allow the hidden part of you that desperately wants to give up a responsibility, a 20 minute break and an ice-cream?
Could you walk away from a conversation that bores or irritates you, instead of being 'polite'?
Could you allow your hidden self a safe outing?
I think you could and I really wish you would!
Find simple ways to say yes to you in the Happy Book
If my small granny could see me now
An afternoon among the women poem
Growing up in a white world
When people say genealogy is boring
Anger and Truth
Where do you come from?
The House on an Irish Hillside book review
Mammies for Mariage Equality
Aw go on, say YES
Homeless in Ireland
When wide sky opens poem
I love my work
Celtic New Year
This small house
Rhythm & Rest poem
The Hidden Self
The Lonely Road
Kerry Pride 2013
Letting the Light in after Loss
Letting go is hard
Pick up the phone
Her name was not Magdalene
Do what you love doing!
My small granny
Praise the child and boil the dishcloths
My invisible brother Michael
I don't want to be Irish anymore
Alone on Valentine's Day
I love my country but I am not blind
Truth no. 2
How we tell the Truth
From Clare to here
Mother's Day is bittersweet
I will not be part of that
No Blacks No Dogs No Irish
Thank you for the days
Baby Marion Howe
My Irish Identity
When my Mam was dying
Violence against women
Take back your power
Draw the line
My small granny and other stories