I never lost the child within. She’s right here next to me. Gathering trinkets on walks. Stones that peak interest, pine needles that prickle on my cheek, pods yet opened, full of possibility and promise of another season.
Feathers of hawk, abandoned hornets nests, berries artistically encased in ice – saved in the freezer, crimson leaf pressed in the pages of the Mother Earth catalogue, brown, striped seeds of mystery.
Recuerdos, mementos for recalling yesterdays, telling the earth’s story one tchotchke at a time. Don’t lose the child within. He/she is counting on you.
I’m in love with the smell of October rain. Arriving upon a cool, warm, wet, chilly breeze. Coating crunchy leaves and crispy flowers. Gathering dusty, dried earth for a communal autumn hug. The rain slowly arrives, moving in on the quiet. Settling into its resting place, lukewarm and lovely.
Making up for Summer drought, it falls. And falls. Smelling like forest floor. Like rich brown soil. Like the underpinnings of fabulousness with a side of mushroom spores and pine bedding undertones. Resurfacing the foundation of new life. Possibilities. Rich mineral magnificence.
The fragrance of possibility. Of spent corn stalks, cold harvest moon mist and pumpkin spice. In the air, previews of icy rains and solid precipitation. The falling away of what is no longer needed. That which weighs us down. Rain showering off the unwanteds, the old, the haggard, tired. The dead crunchies in our lives.
Washed into tomorrow on an endless cycle. Each rain flushing our discarded patterns. The old, worn out becoming new again. Replaced, reset, realigned by fresh new growth. Breathing in a little slower today to fill my empty spaces with the smell of rain in October.
A 2$ word. Transcend. Love these Ads, “rise above”, “get rid of negative thoughts” “get over trauma”. We can just fly over this shit, landing in greener pastures. More like a Billboard for Heroin or Crack. Problem being, upon arrival, YOU’RE still there. Feeling bad should be inSINerated. I’m transcending transcendence – now that’s real. Inviting humiliation, guilt, jealousy, hate, doubt for tea. Nothing to rise/soar above. How do we rise above our true authentic selves? Would we want to?
Wow, this quote is just perfect. Today I’m trying to be gentle with myself. My legs hurt, neck burning down the left side. I’m gunna not get pissed that my body doesn’t function perfectly. I’m gunna recognize the monstrosity trauma trying to ooze out today. All at once. I don’t really have time to process through what my Spirit is sending me today. Appointments – dentist, mammogram, hair… I can ground and breathe and center myself whatever I’m doing, where ever I find myself today.
The real work will be loving myself though the purging of stuck trauma energy. Knowing that I can be gentle and patient with myself and seeing my body as an alliance rather than the punisher. The pain just being information which my Higher Self has decided its time to take a look at. I have a choice. I can forge ahead and ignore what’s going on or I can yield and show my body that I am her friend. It takes courage to yield.
I won’t be hard on myself. For I am not a problem- I never was. Bringing gentle in and on and around my sore body will bring me peace and comfort in a world which does not value this. In a society that puts high esteem on doing rather than being. I’ll do it anyway. Today I choose to bloom. This or better.
Don’t wait for someone to tell you you are amazing. Take magnificent out for a drive. Show lovely a flower in the yard. Have divine choose your clothes today. You are all of it. Show yourself that you are. Intend to be. Put yourself first. Sensual Sunday.
Serenade your fresh, healthy cells with beneficial, living foods. Ask it what else it needs. Be still, your heart, and listen. Like nobody’s watching. Cause, who cares? This is an inward excursion, solitary. Benefits, immediate.
Be the chaperone on your sensual field trip. Sense where fabric touches the body. Eyes closed, feel objects as-if the first time. The smooth. The rough. Wet. Slippery. Savor foods orally, longer and slower, the moment of transition to a swallow.
Play, ponder, reflect, meander, wonder, dance, baithe, be, touch, taste, feel, savor, sense, notice, saunter, and gaze practically guaranteeing your aliveness. Your – I Am Here-. Make this wise soul investment. Treat your nervous system to the gentle, the timeless. Don’t wait.
It’s Friiiiiiday, it’s FRIday, it’s Fridaaaaayyyyy! It’s finally here, the day we’ve been waiting for. Arriving in secret, as most of us are on our third dream. Slipping in, around, under the cracks. Continue reading “Holy Hell, Happy Friday”→