I’ve been roaming the woods again, picking blueberries, raspberries, gathering mushrooms. Forest gold.
I want to listen, and be quiet, fall into myself and hear forest voices, tree voices, sink into a white, silent space inside of me. Deep as my bones. I want to be where the trees are, the birds are, even the moss that I stop to brush my hand against. I’m not sure if I’m making sense. But there is a peace out there that I long for, that I want. That all the things of the forest, of nature, holds inside of themselves. A deep quiet that I can’t quite grasp, but that makes me return to the woods to see if I can get a little closer, hear it a bit better, feel it inside of me.
Yesterday I went for a swim. Waded past yellow water lilies, and dove in, smelling fish as I did. One jumped up as I swam, creating ripples, making me laugh out loud in surprise. The water was black velvet, the sky the palest blue.
I’m leaving the cold north soon, to go to Slovenia. Leaving the darkness that seems to be in everything here, in the black mountains, the earth, even the lakes. It will be a nice change, I think. A different kind of beauty.
The nights have become pale, ghost-like. I lay awake listening to the rustle of leaves, to tiny bells traveling from the other side of the lake, to the hoots of an owl. I know a low mist fills the mountains and forest outside, and nothing really sleeps anymore. There is always a light in the sky.
But I did watch the sunrise with my husband, and then listened to the rain coming down in the late morning and the rest of the day. My husband took some time off work and we spent a few slow days together. On my birthday (June 23) we went to the city to eat at a restaurant, and pick up some things from the health food shop. We wanted to go for a walk, but it was raining then too, and we could hear it drumming on the roof inside of the shop. The lady behind the counter smiled and wished us a happy St. John’s evening, which is traditionally celebrated here with bonfires.
Yesterday we went for a short hike in the mountains, and I thought of trolls and other mystical creatures as we walked down a wet grassy slope, back to our car. There was mist rising from the mountains, and the sky hung dark and low above them.
In a way, I’m saying goodbye to this place because we’re moving. We’re going to Slovenia, to the Alps, and the romantic, green beauty there. We’re leaving at the end of August…
I’ve observed simple things today. The eagle going round and round above the treetops, crying out. The light and shadows dancing over my keyboard as I write this. An overgrown forest path and a tiny pond among white birch trees almost dried up in the summer sun. During the winter and fall months, when it’s larger, deeper, it makes me think of stories I’ve heard, dark stories of things living in the water, and something glittering like gold.
But right now everything is bright and shining. I still blink my eyes sometimes in wonder at the transformation outside my window. It seems almost like a dream.
Mr owl has been singing outside my window when I go to bed. I fall asleep listening to his hoots. He reminds me that it is truly night time, even though the sky is pale and white, and there is almost no darkness to speak of. The summer solstice is drawing close. Will you celebrate it?
I just released my book, from Darkness to Light. And it’s the full moon, which I feel mean something, a sign to let go perhaps. I’m very excited, a little tired and fearful, but I do hope you’ll check it out, and that you’ll like it. Also, I’d love if you’d share it with anyone you think would enjoy reading it.
I lay in my bed, golden light streaming in, dancing behind my closed eyelids. I smiled, snuggled deeper into my covers for a moment, feeling I was afloat on a cloud, thinking “I will remember this.”
I looked at the rose, how it opens to the light, how it’s not afraid to give of everything it is, its whole fragrance and beauty. How it doesn’t hold back, and yet is safe behind its thorns, blossoming quietly in its own time.
Drops of silver on trees, clouds in the water, a mystical island afloat in the lake, casting shadows, pine trees under white mist. Yesterday it shone up like green fire when the sun came out, but then it rained again, and a rainbow painted the sky for a little while.
I wanted to work today, but I kept falling silent, my hands dropping to my lap as I stared out the window, again and again. It’s a quiet, soft day. I too feel soft and tired. I’ve been editing my book and getting it ready to be shared with the world. It should be out very soon now. It makes me feel rose-colored on the inside, a little afraid, excited. And then a new story is taking hold of me, whispering to be told. I try to make room for it, and perhaps that’s why the day is asking me to slow down and be quiet.
I feel there is something big in me, wanting to come through, a great wave pushing forward as I hold back, afraid of it, afraid to speak of it, so I only whisper its secrets to the silence, in the night.
There is so much in me wanting to come forward, to be born into the world. And I stand at the edge of the sea, afraid of the other side, but yearning for it, to cross that great blue wonder.
I haven’t been writing much. I’ve been feeling too strained, too fragmented, like there is little in me to share. But I have been working on something, on putting all these posts into one book, one that will be my journey as I heal from loss, as I deepen my connection with the Goddess. I feel it’s time now, to put it all between two covers, to be treasured, remembered, and maybe one day I’ll read it again.
I’m not saying my journey is over. The path of healing might be never ending, and I still feel there are wounds I haven’t touched, but perhaps it’s like that for all of us. What I do feel is that there is something new wanting to come through, and I need to make room for it, for my story about a priestess.
So I’m gathering all my posts and journal entries, some that were never published, into a book about nature, and silence, healing and divine light. I hope to put it into the world soon, when it’s ready. If you subscribe to my list (sign up for more updates) I will let you know when it’s ready through email.
I updated the cover of my book, The Little Flower. I wanted something that felt like light, like magic.
I’m still writing, and I hope to share more of what’s coming through me. I’m practicing sharing instead of holding back. I’m so good at silencing myself, but I don’t want to do that anymore. I feel I’m on a journey to finding my own voice.
Thanks for reading. Please check out my book if you feel called to.