Unraveling Our Entanglement.


For the sake of and in the name of letting go, I have decided to meet each of you here, on a blank page…

… where we are equals…

… where anything may take shape through these words, dots, and dashes,

Because the emptiness holds the space for each of us to be.

You will know yourself by the name I greet you with.

May we unravel ourselves

Threadbare… stripped to the very core of our existence.

May we learn ourselves here, in this blank landscape.


Hello, Guilt.

I have felt you in the pit of my stomach since I was a small girl.

Your sour taste and nervous edged seething is almost an old familiar sensation here, in this body.

With your sliding motion — twisting in and around yourself through my self-worth, squeezing, slithering, tightening…

… I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to come up for air.

You see, Guilt, I recognize your comfort, coiled around the glow of my worth. Like a hot stone, I suppose, heating your cold and slimy skin.

I see where you have dampened the warmth so you don’t burn away…

… I see where you have tightened your grip like a vice, to keep me from growing too tall for your shape.

To protect me perhaps.

To keep me from the challenges and damages of owning oneself completely.

But you see, Guilt, I see you.

I have felt you, and I hear your lessons for me now.

It is through your systematic shrinking of myself that I have realized:

I am worth my words.

I am worth my actions.

I am worth my voice.

And I must do my best to not use them for harm.

I must never allow them to be silenced or coerced.

I must never shy away from standing in who I am, and I must speak clearly.

I must act with focus, with devotion.

I must never shrink down or diminish my worth.

Do you see, Guilt?

This warmth may burn you away, but know that I have felt you thoroughly, and listened to your lessons.

I release you, Guilt, from your place in this home. You don’t have to hold your shape here anymore.

Rest now, from your constant motion…

… sleep, and be at peace.

There may be a time somewhere down the road where I misstep, and you may rise to remind me of this oath between us.

We will be different beings then, and I may very well kiss your nose for still being loyal to me through the ages.

Who knows? But for now, rest well, knowing that I will not back down from myself, and I will neither cause nor accept harm.

This is my oath to you, may you be at peace.


Hello, Shame,

Oh, Darling Shame.

You burn through my cells until I change color, like a chameleon…

… face red… skin hot… you prickly, creeping little flame.

I recognize now, that you hold hands with our slithering friend, Guilt.

But your fire doesn’t burn Guilt, oh no. Your fire was a type of sustenance, I suppose.

I felt Guilt much more readily than I felt you, but here you are, just as well, and I feel you now.

You would burn if I would allow it, to keep the both of us from experiencing life fully… better to be safe than sorry, no? But Shame, you live deeper as well, and your lesson…

… Do not do what harms you. Do not commit acts which diminish you… by your very embers, Shame, I see.

But here is where you lie with Guilt. Guilt pervades self-worth, and Shame, you sneaky little thing, you pervade the ability to accept.

If I cannot accept, my worth never blossoms, if my worth is damaged, I cannot accept.

Shame, I see you, and I lay my hands over you now, for your peace. May you rest well in knowing that I will fan my own flames, so that I may live life completely, free from the burden of expectations that demand I be something I’m not.

Shame, may your fire burn not a hole in this home, but may you realize that so long as we act through our best, do our best, speak our best, and spread our best, we have nothing to be ashamed of.

You have taught me to own myself, and to be impeccable with myself. May you rest, Shame. Your feeding of Guilt and your steady heat have taught me and forged me well.


Fear, I feel your tingling, paralyzing vines tipped in paranoia climbing through my being. Suffocating me. Immobilizing me. You, most admirable foe, have rendered me speechless, motionless, and at times, your poisonous leaves have left me hopeless…

… but not without just cause or reason… Fear, if left unchecked, your words are death for the heart.

You create holes filled with anxiety-laced what-ifs that lead to despondency.

However, I have learned to listen to your whispers, not with apprehension, but with an ear tuned for your wisdom in self-preservation. This life will happen as it may, Fear, and danger does indeed exist. Hardships, risks, obstacles, all of these will rise and fall as my feet do on this path.

Fear, you only ever wanted to keep me safe from harm’s way, and how bold you were, how adamant. And with my self-worth dim, your gunshot words shocked me through my bones.

You revived doubt, self-doubt, doubt of others. I could write Doubt, but it is born in your swampy waters.

However, Fear, through the battlefield that is the wake of your existence, I found courage.

Fear, through you I have found the raw, molten mettle of my being.

I do not think I can lay you to rest, Fear, for you are here, and you do care. But I take the din of your roar and I return it to your depths. I listen now to your quiet whispers, your discernment, for you do look out. I will continue forward on my journey, with courage in my heart, and a head to recognize the dangers around me.

May you continue with me in peace, knowing that I have heard your call to be ever vigilant in my adventures.


Grief. Hello, my dear, old friend. I have carried your hollow in my chest for who knows how long. You are empty upon embrace, but you carry so much that it is nameless to language. You, my sweet, are overflowing with worlds I cannot express in mere words.

You have ripped through my chest as a ferocious animal, eviscerating my very core. You have leaned into me, soft and gentle, carrying with you a subtle kind of release through your weight.

You have left frozen caverns where my blood once ran hot, you have moved as a river to melt the hardened crevices back to feeling, moving…

… you rise and fall, ebb and flow like the waves, and you will always be here.

I know you will, for loss is a part of this existence.

Grief, you have devoured me, you have held me, you have carried me over canyons within myself.

I welcome you in all your fluidity, because change is your specialty.

But do not make your home in my heart of hearts, because I will release you to wander as you will, through the hearts of others…

… and as I release you, I have the feeling that you will come back around — as you are, and as you do —
And I will embrace you, and let you go.

Because as you’ve taught me so well,

This is a life of letting go.


Heather Climer is an amalgamation of stars and pixie dust, in never-ending motion through the range of human emotion, striving for conscious evolution. She believes in hope, in love, and in you. She’s learning how to be splendidly imperfect, and strives to help others do the same. She feels the sound and color from every shape, and breathes it through her paintings, her writings, musings, and her guitar. She can be found climbing trees, puddle-stomping, or whispering to the fairies that pass by her patio at 3 a.m.


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