I wrote this throughout our call the other day. A mix of things I heard from you all and things I felt from within. Here is to more dialogue between shame and support, and learning to bring these challenging human experiences to the light 🤍🪽 ••• Shame is a cave Or maybe more like a gutter Covered in muck and grime A lonely place Where the only companions are rats and bugs Shame tells me that I am oh so small It tells me to sit down and see what is here for me If shame had a voice it would tell me I am not doing enough It would say I am unworthy, An imposter A liar A cheater The embodiment of all of my mistakes and shortcomings Shame is a monster of all that I am All I do And all I do not Shame feels like a heavy emptiness a backpack full of rocks Organs tied into a knot Shameful Shame fills My chest, exhausting my resources and ability to change It says “you are incapable” Shame says you are doomed to repeat these cycles forever There is no way out My shame It needs to hear that anything and anyone can change Shame needs to hear that I am HUMAN So very human I am allowed make mistakes, To move at my own pace And to choose to be different in any moment The choice is mine Shame is a teacher A guide A harsh reminder of where I am and where I want to be and invitation to choose a different path Shame, Shut up I am trying I am learning I am growing Evolving out of old versions Shedding skin And holding my shame to the light Bathing it in compassion Welcoming all the difficult teachings Integrating Evolving And meeting my next version on the other side

Shame speaks, telling me as of late that I am imposter: Imposter, without a single feather in my cap Imposter, cursed with an essential lack Imposter, lazy right down to the bones Imposter, better off sad and alone Yet, I hereby declare my Shame to be mistaken. Its dreary view of me is completely off-base. I'm not goin to the gutter where it wants me to dwell! How is your conversation goin with your own Shame? ✒️

For those of us who live in the city - whatever city that may be - this song holds special resonance for urban grief. And for those of us lucky country dwellers, if you're so inclined please do give it a listen as well. This recording is from this current hard, feet-draggin' week. Recorded on tape with producer, guitarist and friend of mine Sam Nuñez in Williamsburg Brooklyn, originally this song was written by Richard Tucker and popularized in the blues style of the one and only Karen Dalton. Does this recording speak to your grief? I would be keen to hear your thoughts. 🌆