anavah

I write poetry but I’m not a poet
I’m not a painter though I love to paint
I sing and clap my hands and tinker on the keyboard but I’m no musician
I tend plants in my backyard but wouldn’t say I’m a gardener
I love reading but don’t claim the moniker bookworm
I lead but hesitate to own the identity of leader
I’ve developed my own sense of style but wouldn’t call myself stylish
I step into the unknown with gusto but don’t you dare call me fearless
The birds’ and insects’ calls calm my anxious heart but I’m no animal lover
I move quickly but consider myself slow
I’m not a dancer though my body sways to the rhythm

My disdain for labels does not allow me
to see that which I really am.
How can I make myself understand?
That feeling self-pride does not mean that I’m
self-aggrandizing or overly narcissistic.
That finding joy in my own gifts does not make me
holier-than-thou or lacking in humility.

I recently learned the word anavah
a Hebrew word translated as “humility”
Unlike the definition embedded in me –
     to shrink oneself;
     to lower one’s own view of oneself
anavah implies the need to take up
exactly the amount of space
appropriate for you to occupy
in the universe
Neither too much
nor too little

I find myself drawn to this idea
of spaciousness sans shame

How might I get out of my own way
and step into my Self?
How might I give myself the freedom to discover
just how much space I was made to take up?