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 read a lot
but don’t call myself bookworm
I love to lead
but hesitate to claim my leadership
I’ve got 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?