A dear friend of mine recently thanked me for being here because she said it makes her feel like she isn’t alone. It caught me off guard. For quite a few days. The aloneness is something I always just figured was balled up and stashed only in my own turtle shell. It got me thinking about life and about people. It’s teaching me how to see everyone from a different vantage point. A bittersweet one. Maybe we are all just trying to do our best with that feeling of being alone and it just looks different for everyone.
Sometimes the inconsistency of the sharp edges of this world is overwhelming. Trying to be a good person doesn’t always make sense now that kindness doesn’t have much currency. When I get too deep and lost on the backroads of my own heart, I grab a pen, close my eyes, and let it write. The voice that comes through isn’t mine but it always brings me comfort. Whether one calls it a muse, God, higher Self, etc., I think the voice is there deep inside of everyone. Waiting. I don’t bother much with placing any ranking or importance on which metaphor gets people through this life. There isn’t any one way or place to shelter from the storm. Mine finds its way through fluent chicken scratch.
I’ve never shared any of the scribbly storm writing before. Today, for some reason, it feels like a good time to start. I tip my hat to all of the gentle wayward souls navigating your way in a place without rules or maps of places to hide.
‘If you’re not getting a clear answer or picture, sometimes you must simply tilt the question on its ear or try to paint your story upside down. Perspective is never constant. For the right words and colors stem and flow through that which is sacred or stemming from joy. Leaves fall, whether or not there is any wind to guide or push them from their silent places. They merely fall in their own time. One needs to allow these things to transpire of their own accord, like water gently finding its way through tree roots and the myriad birds that rise up in a resounding YES!! More life please!!
So breathe Child with yourself and through your soul. Allow life to happen within you. The feathering of new dreams takes place in the stillness on the head of a pin. Know that the world is stretched wide and ready to catch you at the slightest hint of tumbling toward dark places (though they are there necessarily). Light or trembles of time struggle to narrow a gaze on brighter things to light the footfalls before you.
There is reason without rhyme, but when rhyme and repetition cause muddled thought or muddied pools, we ask that you smile. Breathe deeper still. Allow yourself to be caught by the eager hands of your own heart in a world that, at all times and in all ways, adores you.
When feelings become echoes of lives already lived, it becomes time to allow yourself to change and to herald that transformation of belief as do the smallest birds at the breaking of dawn. You will never see a leaf drift upwards and cling to a past season of tree. So too should you not create a wind that would carry you back to where you’ve already been.
Life is meant to be a journey. Shifting and drifting. The completion is not the focus of the soul- but rather a culmination of all the good you bring to this world just by breathing and stepping light-footed where the path is lit before you. Tears, like leaves, are bound to fall in their own time. Allow them to water the seeds of better days. There we will find you.’
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