Linking letters into words to uncover meaning and make connection.
The words come into phrases, make sentences, paint pictures and play songs and journey us all to a place where truth chants an Om each to her own vibration.
I love writing, language, the process that allows me to share the darkness that leads me to the light.
Often my writing is dark but I am trying to capture that Mary Oliver gift of not shying from the dark but always celebrating the light.
For me, the blank page is an invitation and welcomes every moment: the moment all we know yet often lose to fear and angst. Yet as I type, feelings walk me across the keys back to now and I remember the joy that is my birthright.
The curve balls of life can cripple and maim if we let them.
Yet we can learn to grow the wings of faith and love, if we’re willing to do the work on the inside and take responsibility for who we are, choices we make, and make use of those who can help, we can fly.
Writing feeds my faith and love by taking me to the heart. Once there I feel joy and pain. My Muse finds its way through a labyrinth of fear and anxiety to drops of peace, that I meet here but often seem too far over there.
Grace sits like the moon if only I open up to her glow and soak it in…for even though we cannot always see her during the day and there are times the night hides her we know she waits.
And just like that what I wait for finds me, in a butterfly, a song, my kitty mewing, my friends taking time to show their care…a summer day like today that allows me to open the windows and hear the cardinal that taps at the window in the next room.
So the gift of giving gives more than it takes always, and as I meander mid conjunctions and comas, I find connection that I yearn for in every breath and realize what I seek outside of me is here, in me, this moment. The day comes closer to evening.
The birds keep singing—and I say a silent Om to that which is always.
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Editor: Bryonie Wise
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