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.