The soul steeps.
Keeping the best for the right moment.
Until, it matches the sun with an exhale
and burns with the fire at the core.
is a rhythm that is mastered with experience and patience.
The waiting is soft and light
full of meaning.
The work is messy and daunting
full of disarray.
Out of the great pain, lives the greatest and brightest awakening.
This soul and her rising is like first breath
and the stillness on the lake's watery surface.
and at the same time...
Coming into, returning from.
with a grip that holds power to take back,
to throw white daisy petals into the iced over water and
Wake up little soul, wake up.
You are emerging...
At night I feel the ache of things that will never be met. I feel the unfinished. The big adjustments that come up with raising children. The imperfect life I will live, maybe lifetime after lifetime. Each one growing richer in beauty, and lush experience of live wisdom unfolding right before me. I don't know what's next. I do know I won't ever be done. I'll never get it down a certain way or molded into a finished shape. I embrace my weathered, my rustic, my old, my scarred, my creased, and my tattered pieces. I will never tame the wild of this life journey. I am learning to be at peace with this. This is what it's all about: untamed and perfectly undone. These grips on perfection melt away as the night sleeps. The dreamworld is where the healing and mending is done. It's folded over, tucked in and fashioned with a vibrant light blessing. I will awake to another promised day of incomplete.
It's like the window you left open as it rained.
It became a portal for wild things to drift in
and splashes of color to messy your hands with.
Over and over, smearing and breaking open cracks of new space.
It becomes your story, the unfinished one.
The one that longs to be retold...
right by the fireside of your heart flame.
It becomes your practice and you return to it...
Over and over, splashing and whirling new paths towards unnamed destinations.
It frees you.
And holds you in darkness. Asking you to sing your dream to find the way home.
One by one, the steps appear and the flashing light,
gives life to your truth.
And the colors that rise up...
Over and over, stream in with heavy sweepers that clear a way back into the deepest you.
Welcome to my Virtual Journal. Here you will find #fieldnotes of a Medial Woman. I write unabashedly imperfect, mostly short, even one-line word play. I share story. I share- first, my process. I view my life-living as a grand experiment and I am taking notes, mapping a trail with moments, stories and synchronicities.
I write about...
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