I woke up early yesterday before the stars had fully dimmed, and the moon was still in the sky. I watched it slowly fade as the sun rose, become a ghost moon, waning slowly.
Spring has arrived in full force. There are wildflowers everywhere, blue and white anemones, primroses, crocuses, – the world is a carpet of beauty. I went for a walk by the lake with friends, and the wonders around me made me almost afraid. Afraid to miss out, that spring would fade before I could take it all in. This is such a lovely time, before the rush of tourist, before the heat. The air is still quite cool when the sun isn’t out. And I will miss out on some of it, – I’m going to the US for a few weeks, and I fear the snow will be gone from the mountains by the time I return. I could gaze at those mountains forever.
It’s been a long, somewhat difficult winter. Spring feels like a relief, though also a bit painful. Things tend to be stirred up. It hurts to break open.
My writing and thoughts have changed since I moved to Slovenia. I feel I have to find a new way of being, and not look for the old. I’m no longer quite so immersed in nature, but instead I have the love of friends around me. And I get to walk by the river. But I feel quieter somehow. This place is gentler than the old North. I’m no longer shaken to my soul by wind and storms and cold rain, and dark mountains. Dark forests. Air and lakes and rushing waterfalls that feel like crystal. Clear and sharp.
Instead, there’s a gentler, in some ways even lovelier beauty here. But I feel less stirred into writing about everything I see around. The forest is no longer at my doorstep.
And I wonder if I should share more about the project I’m working on. That I’ve been working on for a long time now. In a sense, I feel I’m learning how to write. How to write a novel. It’s a wonderful though at times difficult journey. And it furthers my healing from all the loss I’ve been through. I feel I’m still guarding some great, old wound. It feels like holding onto poison, not quite knowing how to release it. There are things I went through that I’ve never spoken of. That I was unable to actually voice because it was too horrible and involved people I love. And moments that I’ve just glazed over because it hurts too much to dwell on them. I’ve never fully looked into what those events did to me. It’s easier to explore them through fiction.
But I’m also exploring beauty. Things I wish for. Like an ancient white temple by a cold lake, and of course white mountains beyond. And what would it be like to live the life of a priestess? To follow the will of the gods….the courage and joy and pain that would involve.
Wishing you a beautiful spring or autumn!