Too Much · The Somatic Academy by Soma+IQ

Too Much

The sandbar is magic — sometimes land, sometimes sea, a space that keeps returning. A space that I return toBare feet walking on broken shells; the sandbar surface shredded with the tide pulling out too fast shells left to harden when there is too much sun.Too much, too fastI create my own magic on the sandbar in movements calling energy : Ropeflow, QiGongI feel seen judged as the spring break crowd fills my magic spaceI see youth, I am reminded of the speed of timeToo many, Too fastHave I been too much? Am I too much? Or am I exactly who I am to be

if I could only trust.

I can feel when I am marked as too muchI am always asking yearning to learn more – today’s question when am I too muchAn Answer, when I don’t meet people where they are,

When I expect them to be where I am?Too much, Too far

When is it too much for me? When someone says, “what if I don’t want to change,”I ask myself: why does their unwillingness to grow pound in my chest?Why does their unwillingness to grow bother me so much?Why does other’s pettiness feel like an open wound?Too hurt Too much

A wave of memory — visions crash across my cortex

all the times I crushed, the times I offended, the times I was too hard too much.Those in my path just saw the feisty, abrasive, relentless fury of the wounded honey badger clawing their way out of the cornerSurvival modeSurvival built from neglect; survival that looked like armor and drive.A question how did I get like this.Parents young and dumb; they had their own shitwe left on our own.left oversChildren made to parent themselves — cooking, cleaning, carrying the house,adults too soon They Too busyI got harder and I moved faster to meet others expectations.

Too hard too fast A photograph found decades later: a 14 year old me — on the back, in my grandmothers hand too much too fast — those words hunt me.Too much too Fast

Back to the inner world

Launched into space — a field of color moved with me, through me, from me.

A symbol seen in sea shells — an omen: ying yang, purple on the right, black on the left, circling closer and closer until something loosened and I burst through.

I was set free.

I floated in a sea of trust.

There is no too much — there is just enough.

Freedom in the trust — I don’t need to create the story or understand;

open up enough to know

I can be set free.

Become slow. Become soft.

Too flexible, too awake.

Suspended in trust.

It does not matter if it leaves or stays, for I have surrendered.

Never too late, never too much.

Trust--