Stepping off the Bridge

Last year I felt like I fell off the earth. It was like the ground collapsed dermis in a rock slide and I tumbled into a frothing river. At times I had wondered if I was going to, or had already drowned. Sooner or later, I quit crying (like Alice) and dried myself off. Hopefully, unlike Alice, I wasn't running around in circles with a dodo. I walked along the bank, and through the mud, and climbed onto a bridge that would carry me over to a new shore. In the past year I have been traveling over the bridge. Now is the time to step off the bridge. I finally can see the new world awaiting me over the bank. I know that moving into the new possibilities means that I no longer live in the past. So, this is good bye. I can't start to till and plant new land until I leave the old one. 

I am willing and ready.  The old, dead tree has fallen to make the soil rich in its decay. I will not deny my destiny. I hear it calling and I follow, eyes open. 

Part of becoming the wounded healer means I must have the wise wound first. Art calls me, healing calls me, destiny calls me. I dare to dream big dreams as well as will to the passionate work to make them manifest. 

I love the vigilance my cat keeps over me.  Sometimes human touch would be good too. I carry my loneliness with me. Last night I told myself that I should get a big dog and call it a day. Ha!

I care for my family and tend the garden. I paint and dream and nurture the seeds of hope for the future. 

Holding the Helm

This weekend I tended; the laundry, mopping, dishes, cooking, grocery shopping, weeding.  I listened and visited.  I know this plain, holding of space is soul work.  It is a group effort, a family project. We are all having tough moments. We try, forgive, appologize, and make the effort again. In this humble togetherness, we hold each other.  In grief, in laugher, in anger, in fatigue, and in fear, we witness. 

In gratitude, I remain- fully alive.