April 2015 archive
Luminous Moonlight – David Joaquin
Looking through old drafts I found this, and it made me remember what I long for, – that place of healing.
Why I started this blog
I created this blog not fully knowing what I wanted it to be. I just knew I needed healing. I yearned to open up, to express myself. I would sometimes have words run through my mind, images, scenes from a story not yet written, and I didn’t have a place for them.
I wanted to share my heart with people, and at the same time was terrified to do so.
My throat feels tight sometimes, as though there’s something stuck in it, stopping me from speaking. My voice comes out weak when I share something deeply meaningful to me.
I told a friend that I have felt like a ghost of my true self for years. I’ve been waiting for the time when I’d feel like a complete person again. I’ve been numb with grief for a long time, though I thought I was doing just fine. I was not in touch with what had happened.
I’m opening up now. I’m strong enough to feel again. I hope this blog will help me find my voice. I would love to be able to help other people do the same.
I’ve always longed for a sanctuary, a place of healing. I never liked hospitals. If I could choose I would go to a temple of healing, a place of rest for weary souls. There would be the scent of flowers, and soft singing, perhaps the sound of silver bells. People would be given what they needed most.
If it was possible, I would create such a place online.
Artist – Joan Brull
I want to find my way back to myself, so that I may remember who I am. Honor the silent call within me, and see where it leads me.
I want to write whatever comes, without worrying if its good of bad, or feel that I need to prove something, say something wise or beautiful. I just want to string words together because it feels like healing, feels like a release. I’m so good at silencing myself, but it creates pain; – thoughts, feelings staying locked in my body, going deeper until I ache.
I will write what is true, in the moment.
I feel something needs to be expressed, come out, be born, or reborn as I walk this road back to myself, to who I really am.
Thank you for listening.
I don’t want to miss this moment, when the forest turns to gold, as the sun sets behind the mountain. I rush a bit to prepare my rose tea, and then settle by the window, to take in the first of the evening, the fading of light into dark. I love those moments of in-between, and the deepening of magic that happens at twilight.
I bought myself flowers, tulips, red and purple, like a splash of color next to my couch. And then I went a little crazy and bought roses also, a soft pink, to have in my kitchen. I want to surround myself with flowers, with beauty. It feels like something in me heals a little whenever I look at them, my soul sighs and relaxes a little. I smile.
It feels very decadent to have so many flowers in our small apartment. I even put tulips in the bathroom, and I feel happy whenever I see them.
I didn’t buy chocolate though. Perhaps I can bring sweetness into my life through beauty, thought tea, books and well….my dandelion chocolate tea.
I’m trying to listen to my body more. I want to take care of myself, conserve my energy so I can do more, walks in the forest more, draw, write. Spring brings a freshness to things, news possibilities.
I’ve been hearing the birds lately, first in the morning, as I sit in the half light, and whenever I’m quiet enough to listen. Their song feels especially sweet after a long winter of darkness and silence. It’s the song of innocence, and new things to come.
Artist ~ David Joaquin
A series of bleak days has arrived. Each full of rain and quiet trees, and a sky that is a constant white, sometimes shifting to grey, but a light grey, as though full of snow waiting to fall. But the temperature is mild, and it continues to rain. I don’t mind much. I relax, feeling no pressure to go outside, which is good, because I have little energy these days. I want to sit quietly and reflect, rest a bit, and not question and struggle with the fact that I am tired. It is what it is.
I feel happier now, filled with a quiet glow that I want to explore. Like a secret joy waiting to come out, waiting to know that it’s safe. Waiting to see if it can trust again. I feel like a child that has been hit, and is now afraid to smile, to laugh and run through the meadow full of wildflowers. Something bad might happen. She might do something wrong and make God angry.
I feel the divine is doing everything they can to show me I’m loved, that I’m safe, protected. But they need to do it in small quiet ways to not overwhelm me, to not make me back away in fear. Sometimes I feel the whole sky is made of love, and I wonder if I’m imagining it. Can I trust what I feel? Can I trust myself? Can I let go and trust the divine will catch me, that my Divine Mother is always right beside me? What if I keep making mistakes and she grows tired and leaves?
But then, would a perfect mother ever leave her child?
I feel we’re more loved than we can even imagine, that to feel the immensity of it it would shatter us into a million specks of light.
Do you feel that you’re safe, that you’re being looked after?
Artist – David Joaquin
I recently saw an interview with a woman who had finally turned her dream into reality. She said:
“Since I was a child, I always wanted to sit somewhere and reflect”
Those words made me think, made me see my life in review. I have always loved to sit somewhere quiet and reflect, but I never considered that it actually meant something, that I could use it in some way. I had always considered it a bit shameful, bordering on laziness, and I sensed a need to almost do it in secret. I loved moments of being alone.
And now I remember moments of climbing a pile of chopped wood, covered with plastic and flat stones. I would sit there in the evening, silent, thinking, and most of all feeling. I could see the sun, the drifting clouds, the sky. I felt I was somehow close to God like this, that I could almost sense the unseen. I loved to seek out the hidden, the sacred, the divine. In the stillness I could feel something beautiful, and I wanted more of it.
I loved lying on my back in the grass, watching the clouds. In church I could never remember what the minister said, but I do remember the feeling of reverence, of the sun coming through painted glass windows.
Now I see this is what I love doing the most, and I wish I had better words to describe the feeling to comes from just looking at things, from being present, feeling the unseen, but perhaps you already know.
For some time now my mantras has been beauty and magic, and thats what feeds my spirit. And always at the heart is the divine, and love, love for the divine.
I want to give myself more of what really fills me up, even as it brings up resistance and guilt. I would just be so so wonderful to be in that space more often, to feel, reflect, be here, create.
Artis ~ Louis-Welden-Hawkins
I’ve been going through my draft folder again. A lot of my thoughts stay stuck there, because I’m afraid to reveal them. I write them down, and then I think them silly somehow, and never click the publish button. But it makes me a little sad not to honor what I’ve written, to keep silencing myself, so here is a post that I wrote sometime in the fall.
When the Sun Breaks Through
I went outside just as it started raining, hearing the drops tap against my winter coat, looking up at the grey and white sky, happy it wasn’t too cold.
I’ve been feeling a little sick, and didn’t want to walk long, and yet the beauty outside made me stay longer than I planned. When I turned around the sun broke through the clouds and I watched as it grew brighter and brighter, shining like gold on the water. Then it was gone, dark clouds drifting across it,
The next moment it broke through again, and the grass around me glittered with rain drops. The sky is so interesting on days like this, when there is wind in the trees, clouds always drifting, changing, from dark to white, the gold of the sun sometimes coming through.
I walked, words swirling in my mind and heart. This time they came and I wanted to write them down, other times they come, but I feel too tired to do anything but to let them pass through me, hoping I will remember them when I’m a bit more rested. When my soul doesn’t feel quite as worn and my body not as heavy.
Ever since I first watched the Fellowship of the Ring, Bilbos words have stuck with me.
“I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.”
It described how I felt then, and it describes how I feel now, even after all this time. I try to be so much more than I am, now, when it’s not yet time. I still feel like I’m waiting for myself, like I’m walking a long road, gathering pieces of my soul along the way, slowly slowly remembering.
I need to be quiet and listen. Stand by the ocean and hear it speak to me. Hear the wind in the trees, and buy myself flowers. I abandoned myself a long time ago, and I forgot who I was. If I listen I will find myself again, bit by bit, and I need to learn to be kind, to not hate and loathe, but to listen and understand, and to love myself the way I wish to love others.
Artist ~ Joan Brull
I went for a walk, and found a new place to sit in the sunlight.
I heard the sound of water, gentle waves against rocks as I left my apartment. From my spot on the hill, I can see the lake, glittering like gold and silver. A small stream trickles past behind me, between the moss, and birch trees.
Everything looks bare and naked, brown. There are no flowers yet, no leaves, but the days are brighter, gentler, and the birds are happy, singing, dancing between the branches. I hear them at night as well now, which I cant remember doing in winter.
It feels like the stage in-between winter and spring, death and rebirth. The earth feels full of promise, so many gifts waiting to spring forth after a long period of rest, of sleep.
I feel those forces inside of me as well, something waiting to be born, brought forth, created. I feel a need to be a still and listen, and allow the stream to trickle the way it needs to, – let whatever needs to happen happen. And to trust that it’s ok. I’m not a bad person for resting, for listening, for giving myself what I need.
I feel very tired. I’m reminded to be gentle, to take care of my body, my heart, my soul, to allow joy to enter. To learn to receive generously, to not be afraid of love.
I’m so afraid too much will be asked of me, and sometimes I still get very tired. I get tired because there is such a battle going inside of me, and I have yet to learn to truly let go, to trust in life and the divine. To trust that I’m loved and looked after even as I make mistakes. That there is no time limit, no rush, no need to force thing and be filled with anxiety. That it’s ok to rest.
Anastasia by David Joaquin
As the sun is about to set behind the mountain, I stop what I’m doing, and just look out the window, at the lengthening of shadows, the forest gleaming like gold in contrast.
I step outside and hear the sound of water, the restless lake, the tiny stream trickling by. I sit on the stairs for a moment, with my rose tea, but its still so cold, and the wind makes my head hurt. Bu oh what a beautiful day, with its deep blue sky and bright sunlight. I yearn for spring with my whole body, loving the light and the longer days. Everything is coming out of darkness; – something in in the air changes, things feel lighter. People are smiling.
I love Easter because life is more quiet, slow. People have the week off and are relaxing in the mountain, or at home, or taking their boat out on the lake. Its like the whole country is sighing with relief now that the winter has passed, and people are outside, worshipping the sun.
On my walk the other day, I looked into a garden and saw a cluster of snow drops. It made my heart ache a little, because I wished I could lie down on the grass next them. They are my favorite flowers of spring, the first flower they say, as a gift from God, for lending their color to the snow.
I feel I’m glimpsing another world when I see them, a place of delicate beauty and purity, of newly fallen snow.
I can imagine they have a sound, like chimes, sweet and silver, like the music of winter, of frozen rain on branches, on water, rocks, the ground.
As I child I loved looking at them in the garden, as well as the crocuses, – purple and yellow happiness among the muted grey and brown of a dark season passed.
What are you favorite signs of spring, or autumn?