This morning I checked the list of celebrations for the day. Often I find inspiration in that list of little known holidays. I knew today was going to be very full and I hoped one of the national days would grab my attention.
One did, Poem on Your Pillow Day. I didn’t take the time to read through the explanation for that holiday this morning. I just tucked the thought away and let it simmer all day.
In a seemingly unrelated train of thought, my birth name kept coming to mind. Although I go by Cindy, my real name is Cynthia. I am named after my great-grandmother. Not for the first time, I wished I had adopted her nickname of Cynthi as my own. I wondered when she began using that name and laughed at the thought of her going by Cindy, as I do.
Late this evening, I returned to information about Poem on Your Pillow Day. It seemed this was how I was meant to play today. This holiday was established recently, in 2015, and seems connected to Twitter. The specifications for celebrating were simple…leave a poem on someone’s pillow…a child, a friend, a neighbor (that seems creepy!) or a lover.
I considered options. And realized the holiday is called Poem on Your Pillow Day. My pillow. Me. I thought about how my own name kept popping into my mind this morning. Cynthia…Cynthia…Cynthi…
It almost seemed like someone was calling my name.
I decided to go with it. I would leave a poem on my own pillow. The holiday site offered a variety of short poems for use. I selected one and started to copy it on a card I could lay on my pillow. But no. It wasn’t the right poem.
Turning to Google I searched for a poem. The one I immediately found was the perfect length for copying onto a notecard and the words resonated with me. Wild Moon Woman…you were not made to be tame…you are an earthquake shaking loose everything that is not soul…shake, woman, shake.
Suddenly understanding dawned. Cynthia…Cynthia… My name means “Moon”. Wild Moon Woman. Oh! Way before I knew I’d be placing a poem on my own pillow tonight, I was being both invited…and guided. Invited to express love and tenderness toward myself. Guided to a poem that captured a deeper truth.
In 2014, during my Year of Firsts, I wrote a Love Letter to myself. Now it seems it was time for a poem. In the last three years the oh so crucial relationship that I have fostered with myself has deepened. I have come to know myself in ways I never dreamed possible. I have lovingly filled in some of the gaps within, parenting the frightened child, encouraging my inner artist, becoming a lover of my heart, soul and body, shaking loose everything that is not soul.
The journey of loving myself, at deeper and more intimate levels, continues. I am taking this relationship as deep as I can. Tonight I left a reminder of that knee shaking, soul stirring, heart opening love on my pillow.
