One of the things that saved me from the Big Breakup of 2010 was spoken word poetry. I am not sure how I found it or how it found me but for the lovely collision I am grateful. Beautiful words, I believe, can be the saving grace of a broken heart.
One of the poets that I fell in love with was Sarah Kay. A few years ago, she began a spoken word program in America with her best friend, Phil Kaye. Together, they go around the country bringing both rhyme and reason to kids who need to believe in the power of the metaphor.
In 2011 she gave a TED talk called If I Should Have A Daughter. She performed a poem with the same title, passing on her wonderful wisdom to a hypothetical future child. When she started telling the audience about her personal love story with spoken word poetry, she talked about an activity she often uses to get her students to start writing.
It’s called 10 Things I Know To Be True. It’s a list the student puts together, a small collection of their ultimate beliefs. What’s true to you says a lot about who you are.
If you’ve been looking for something to write about, consider this a prompt. We, the Galvanizers, highly encourage you to make your own. If you blog, post the link below on our comments section. If you don’t, feel free to share your list with us via e-mail: thegalvanizersmag@gmail.com
Let me kick it off for you all. Here’s the one I wrote back in 2011, once I had gotten over everything, when I had finally realized that – yes, I’m quoting Christina Yang in Grey’s Anatomy—he was not the sun. I was.
Enjoy!
***
One.
That when God made me, He said: “Isabel, you will go through life with a crutch by your side and a stitch in your heart. You will actually feel a bit cheated, a bit weighed down, but I will give you words. Words that will sing to a nation and start a fire and break a heart. Words that will dance with love and hope and keep people awake, alive, afloat. Words that people will fold tenderly and place within the pockets of their hearts. You will have words and they will be your freedom and they will be enough.”
Two.
People will say that I am strange or wrong or, much worse, even a little bit misguided, but I think the only way to go through life is with an open heart. And that might mean the occasional (seasonal) bruise or, perhaps, the scar that won’t heal but it will also mean smacking into the blessing you would have never come across, had you decided to take the journey with your fists shut tight.
Three.
There is a love that is true and right and it is here and it is now but it is also kept hidden in a box marked: later.
And pay no mind to what the consensus says. It is okay to wait. In fact, it is brave to wait. Destiny is a fruit that only falls when it is ripe and, most of the time, the hero is the only person left standing under the tree.
Four.
That the only long-term relationship I am guaranteed in this lifetime is the one I have with myself. And so the invisible question that perpetually hangs in the air is: will you?
And my answer to myself, at 22, after many years of struggling, is a big resounding yes.
Dear Me:
I will take you with stretch marks and on bad hair days; in quiet solitude, with the makeup off; when your mood is explosive and unstoppable; through love handles and more love handles; even on the days that you feel like all you want to do is hide from the world; at the point of your absolute worst and at the height of your absolute best; as we journey towards better days and as we stop to mourn on worser ones. Know that the answer, from here on out, will always be yes. I will love you.
Five.
Life hurts. Life really hurts.
But if you’re lucky, you will find (or be found by) a few amazing people. And it is my greatest hope that you will never, for the life of you, understand why they don’t give up on you. I hope their love is so big, it barely even makes sense.
They won’t just give you the strength to start over. They will shove the clean slate straight in your face and demand that you charge into the beautiful life that awaits you with your head held high. They will see you through every new chapter, perpetually promising that each will be better than the last. (And they will be right. For the most part.)
And if you’re really, really lucky, they will also be the same people who live with you, who share the blood in your veins, a last name, a history but, most excitingly: a future.
And, sometimes, they come in puppy form, too.
Six.
When I was younger, I met a person with a severely wounded heart. And I thought to myself that if I just loved that person long enough or hard enough, I’d somehow be able to cover all the cracks.
And so I poured out all the love I could muster. But even in highly potent doses, it did not stop the walls from coming up or the self-destruction from winning. I came to the sad realization that, though I truly wanted to, I could not save someone who didn’t believe they were drowning.
Seven.
On the day that two bad men broke into our villa and held my sister and I at knifepoint, the only thing that held me together was hope. A part of me needed to believe that things were going to be okay even if the circumstances said otherwise. Hope was that crazy, inextinguishable voice that quietly asked me to believe the best in these men. Hope told me to offer them a glass of water. (Hope can be kind of ridiculous sometimes!) Hope encouraged me to teach them how to unlock my cellphone. Hope let me let them steal it. Hope stopped me from breaking down. Hope made me brave; hope kept me safe.
And that same hope thrives, even today.
My hope is the Rock that is higher than I. My hope sees the dead dream and dares me to dream bigger. My hope compels me to believe that there is always something beautiful just waiting around the corner.
That strange and scary day in Bali was the day I realized how important it is to anchor myself to something indestructible. It’s true what they say: hope floats.
Eight.
My threshold for emotional pain is pretty high but what breaks my heart is when a person decides to do the same hurtful thing again and again. It makes me feel stupid and it makes me want to knock their head into a wall.
But real love is devastatingly kind.
And that means that it forgives, even after it has been sucker punched in the gut. Real love breaks. And afterwards, it quietly binds the wound and moves on. I’ve learned that keeping score only steals one’s joy.
Let your joy be incorruptible. Let it be a song, let it be the morning light, let the grudge go.
See how far you travel after that. The heart is a glass house. Keep it pure.
Nine.
I used to be such a cynic. It’s never a good sign to be young and suspicious of life’s good things. I had myself thoroughly convinced that miracles were an illusion and that optimism was for fools.
Doubt was cool. Doubt was predictable. It broke my heart a lot less. But over time, that changed and I realized that all doubt really did was stifle truth. I am always grateful for that.
There are big things out there for each of us. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is just believe.
Cynicism is not to be celebrated, patronized or glamorized. Cynicism is the locked door that closes off that magical thing we call awe. And awe is what keeps the world new.
You were meant for nothing less.
Never ever be jaded.
Ten.
That when God made me, He said: “Isabel, you are loved. Completely and utterly. It is the greatest truth you will ever know and also the greatest doubt you will ever face. But take it. Own it. Let it change your life. Let that love soar through you and in you and let it flow deeply in everyone who meets you. Let that love be your mouthpiece. Do amazing things with it until you finally make your way back Home. It is going to be an amazing life. Have fun.”
Illustration: Sarah Goodreau
