Window in the sky
makes me wonder:
What’s beyond?
Walking the same paths and sitting in the same spots rewards the soul. I love seeing new places, exploring and discovering things for the first time. But there is a richness, a sweetness, a deep satisfaction in revisiting, reflecting, reconnecting.
Do you have a magical place that feeds your soul? I’d love to hear about it.
I’m sitting on the dock of the lake, experiencing time. Enjoying the present. Feeling my world expand.
This timespace is a treasure. As is every time and space. But sometimes, it is hard to feel the gift of the moment. Perspective helps. Silence helps. Nature helps. So when possible, I give myself these gifts.
Whenever and wherever from you’re reading this, I hope you’ll share your treasure of the moment in the comments. Thank you for sharing this timespace with me.
Nature Magic heals. Flower Magic inspires. Beauty soothes my soul.
I am feeling grateful for my happy place. For time to walk. And time to sit. For cygnets and water lilies and red-winged blackbirds. For birds chirping and insects buzzing. For the sweet smell of the air.
Life is good.
It’s all been done.
It’s all been said.
No need to write.
I’ll stay in bed.
I’ll sit in stillness
on the dock.
Doing nothing
’til it’s dark.
I’ll tweet a ditty,
scroll a while.
If I’m lucky
I shall smile
as I remind myself once more
it’s not been said my way before.
Today, I stand still and integrate the gifts of the first three days of the journey. I notice: I am complete. I have created a beautiful life.
Wholeness and awareness send strange sensations coursing through my body. My hands tingle. My head feels enormous and seems to be extending and expanding. My innards are being agitated and stirred.
It is time to trust, and leap. I know, without verification, that glory awaits. Still, letting go is terrifying.
What if everything I believe is wrong? Might I have misunderstood or misinturpreted the messages? And what if I err grievously, again? I do not want to misuse my power.
Though my mind jabbers and attempts to restrain me, I know that it is safe to jump into whatever is next. I know it is (almost) time. I am frustrated with the waiting, but soon, I will be able to use my power to create an even bigger, even more beautiful life.
Inspired by Lyn Thruman‘s October Writing Challenge: Writing the Wisdom of the Soul. I am expanding, evolving, shining, and taking the reins in my journey.
Prompt for October 6: “I can’t help but create and be abundant. I nurture and nourish. It’s what I do, babe,” the Empress explains in her soothing lullaby-voice. “You’re not unlike me, you know. You’ve got a miracle-maker kit, you know your potential and when you put them together,” she pauses and waves her arms, pointing around the garden, “well, you get this.”
Write about how you already experience the gifts of The Empress in your life. How does she already nurture and provide?
Acknowledging the 44 in my life.
After seeing the number 44 multiple times a day for some months now, I decided to interpret the meaning myself through observation and exploration. So, this is my take on the meaning of the number 44.
First, lets look at the number 44 with a mathematical approach.
– 44 is a positive number that when added, subtracted, or multiplied, it creates another positive number. Therefore, the number 44 must resonate with a vibration of everything that makes up the positive energy of the universe.
When we add 4+4 we get the number 8.
– The number 8 is made up of an everlasting line that intersects in the middle. The center of an 8 is the connection of two worlds, as I see it. A possible bridge that connects the physical and the spiritual. Or, it can mean a connection of…
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The magician has delivered my miracle-maker kit: a chalice, a wand, a sword and a pentacle. I am grateful for each item, but I’ve been on The Journey long enough to know that it is I who am the miracle-maker, or not. Tools can be useful, but they are inert. I must determine how and when to wield them.
In this life alone, my journey has been exhilarating and eviscerating, blissful and busy, wearying and mind-numbingly dull. Yesterday, I embarked on a particularly perilous section of the road: the journey from head the heart. The beginning was only cognition. The downward spiral, begins today.
Oh, yes. I already know the path is a spiral. If the trajectory were simple and uncomplicated, I would have reached Destination Heart long ago. This is not my first attempt at the plummet.
Welcome to ground zero: My Head. As I stand here, I realize that I think a lot — too much perhaps — thoughts popping in and out, and churning around — yet, I have not spent much time contemplating this summit of my body. A skin and face covered cranium contains my brain, receiver for Mind. Here I stand, surrounded by folds of grey matter. Every way I turn, I see a tunnel that could be the beginning of the way out and down, if I only I knew which way to go.
The tool I need is a map, a schematic of my brain. The tools I have been given are chalice, wand, sword, and pentacle. It is fortunate that I’ve read and watched Harry Potter so many times. I choose the wand and say, “Lumos.” And there is light.
Brightness does not yield elucidation. I am surprised to see that I am in a cavernous, empty room. I drop to hands and knees and search the floor for an opening. I want to go, down into my heart, but I see and feel only smooth surfaces. A map would have been useless after all. I cannot escape the first chamber.
I contemplate my tools, again. I consider using the sword to cut a hole into the floor, but quickly discard the idea. I won’t damage my own brain, even to open a passage to my heart. I would die before reaching my target.
I do not know the purpose of the pentacle, but I remove it from the sack and hold it in my palm. The star radiates heat and glows. You are safe, I hear or sense or feel from its pulsing. I relax on the floor and feel my body ease into the yielding surface. My perception swings between panic at being swallowed by my brain, and fervent hope that I am moving toward my heart.
The calm and uncertainty evaporates. I am attacked by specters and phantoms. I swing my sword in circles, overhead and before me, as I spin, turn, and tumble. I thud onto a new surface. I have reached my heart. Choirs of angels sing. Soft colors swirl around me. Sweet nectar collects in my cup. I drink. I have arrived and accepted the call. I shall learn to hear and follow the urgings of my heart.
Inspired by Lyn Thruman‘s October Writing Challenge: Writing the Wisdom of the Soul.
Prompt for October 2: The Magician brings the tools to write the story. He’s the magic mojo man —with faith and the right mix of elements, anything is possible.
Write about the miracles you want or need to manifest with your miracle-maker kit. What’s going to make your journey sweeter?
Flaming June by Frederic Leighton
My best insights
My brightest voices
Speak to me
from the in-between space
I hear the words of poems
I uncover my next step
I acknowledge that I know more than I believed I knew
I hear my secrets
In the in-between space
before sleep
before waking
I shall shed the labels that define me: mother. wife. writer. I shall slither out of the accolade-titles that make me cringe: nice girl. hard worker. good mother. I shall strip away the designations that were my armor that made me proud: homeopath. published author. homeschool teacher. I shall obliterate the marks of my shame: lazy. unproductive. business failure. I will stand naked, exposed, revealed, Not caring who sees, or who evokes their own version of me. Not caring who hears or who translates me into the woman they prefer to hear. Not caring who perceives me, and who sees herself. I shall see My Self. hear My Self. acknowledge My Self. I am revealed. Nothing concealed. I am. That is enough.
Weaving Gold 