When I moved into my first 'home' on my own, over a year ago, I stuck the following poem by Derek Walcott on the inside door to my flat:
Love After Love
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
It remained there for just under a year, until I reached the point on my quest where I realised that I no longer needed to be reminded of it's wisdom - day in, day out - and that I was actually at a whole other place altogether.
I had started to live it rather than read it and although I would (and still do) slip in and out of self love, it was no longer such a struggle or alien concept that I needed it as my welcome to the beautiful new container that I had being creating for myself on the outside which reflected the one I was nurturing inside.
I finally took the poem off of my door a couple of months ago and replaced it with the above images of aliveness; celebrating that I was excited about creating a magical new now for myself from the imperfect place of where I was now at, having worked to own or resolve the past as much as I needed to so that it was no longer the focus or the replay.
In my efforts to either 'beautifully honour and complete' or 'ruthlessly clear away and abandon (finished or not finished' the things in my inner and outer world that weighed me down or were unresolved somehow - I created a magical new space. A space in which the now actually has a chance and space to exist.
It's amazing how things can change...