Glass Ceiling

This is not the first time I lay under the pressure of the glass ceiling.  I lay on the ground that holds me, steadies me and gaze up to the ceiling that has been with me.  The glass holds my story, my journey - it has been cracked, shattered, and destroyed only to be built back again.  

At every build, there is a greater precision in how it is crafted, a depth of beauty from merging all the shattered pieces into a magnificent mosaic.

There has been a steady pressure again, one that at first has brought a depth of smallness, of helplessness, of sorrow.  This pressure was an invader at first, unwelcomed. 

Time still marches on and the pressure on my glass ceiling is not alleviating.  I’m able to hold it steady, because I have slowly learned to welcome it in, I have learned to cushion the pressure - in a way I don’t want to let the pressure go.  It has been with me for a long time.  It is the pain that reminds me that I love deeply, It reminds me that I am small, life is short, hold onto love, speak and live from the honest place of your heart .

I watch the glass ceiling.  I know it will break, come crashing in on me.  Its going to cut deep; its going to puncture me.

I lay under my ceiling, I study the beauty of its structure, it somehow has become more transparent, it illuminates my view.

Photo by: Bing Wright

But it will break.

At times I find myself laying on the ground under the weight of my glass ceiling, with all my limbs extended in the air as if trying to hold the ceiling up, trying to help it not crack, but knowing it is fragile.  That the pressure of my hands and feet has to be precise but gentle.

It’s going to break.

When the glass begins to weaken under the pressure, it will come crashing down, in it's weight and jagged edges.  I will welcome it  - because I have loved.  It will pierce, because I have loved.

I will have scars from the glass that cuts, but those scars will not be unwelcomed. I will not see them as a flaw, but I will see them as love.

I will build the glass ceiling again.  It always gets rebuilt in time, the time that marches.  With every build, the merging of the freshly shattered edges together causes the light to shine in the room from new angles, and allows for me to see things through a new perspective.

Image from Cloud Nodes

I will rebuild my ceiling and I will hold this new depth of love that has been growing in me, teaching me.

The pressure  -  was Love all along.


Nikki