these brightFULL & wakeFULL weekend mornings

walking for miles & miles on saturday morning.

taking in the brightness.

of the wide, blue sky.

of changing leaves on trees & the quilt of fallen leaves covering the ground.

of doggie wonders.

of my heart lifting & my face softening.

of people running, cleaning yards ~ knees on earth, biking, pushing strollers & walking with beloveds ~ hands holding hands & cups of coffee.

taking photos.

attempting to capture just a sliver of this.

how it means so much.

the presence of beings & creatures.

how it saves my life.

wide open eyes, fresh air, rosy cheeks, the sound of others' voices, the knowing you are there & feeling connected.

asana, pages of writing & 14 handwritten notes of gratitude on sunday morning.

waking to this practice.

silence.

movement.

Cat Stevens.

pen & paper.

pouring out.

always

i

am

grateful

for

this & you.

SAW reflections

i heard about Squam Art Workshops (SAW) for the first time leading up to the inaugural gathering in september 2008. i sensed SAW would be something that i would want to be a part of in the future - the near, touchable, tastable future.

after hearing about attendees' experiences at that first SAW happening i knew for sure i wanted to be there in september 2009. i felt my heart leaning, stretching, leaping towards this. and, this reaching for me, wanting me, inviting me. yes, yes, yes.

attending art camp. in the woods. surrounded by familiar beauties - some known, some soon to be known (and, once seen - oh so familiar they were/are). all of us, turning towards the shimmering light, the brave rising and the sweetest soaring.

september SAW was on my list for 2009. it was to be. no question. it simply would be. it was the future i was living into. a passage, a healing, a baptism, a renewal and a leap.

from the time of that first knowing, through registering and to arrival: i experienced the deepest darkness before the dawn (connected to the physical death of my sister/babe, bella, and my great grief journey); i honored the new ground i was standing on (claiming my new way of being in the world and in relationship with bella - our awake and alive relationship) through baptism - getting my nose pierced; and, i listened to my heart, followed spirit's guidance and chose an adventure - leaping north, to new england, creating new life and new work.

september SAW 2009 intersected with grounding in my new geography and contained all of the elements of my journey to arriving there: passage, healing, baptism, renewal and leaping.

passage: making the journey further north and back with this radiant being and my creative neighbor, Katrina (also one of my "fire*side beauties" - more on them later...); witnessing when i was feeling overwhelmed, self-conscious, afraid, stuck and on the edge of shutting down and giving myself the space to have my whole experience - being even bigger than i've ever known myself to be; and, bravely and boldly speaking my truths.

healing: embracing a large circle of women who, by simply being, have been an important part of my healing and living journey these years. jen gray, Christine Mason Miller, Susannah, Denise, Schmoopy, dar, Kirsten, Liz, Thea, Jeanine and Elizabeth - i bow to you, you have kept me warm and inspired. along the dirt path, at the table and around many fires, i welcomed a creative community of women with whom i am continuing to journey. these are my "fire*side beauties" (many of them are listed/linked on the left side of this page): danielle marie - a rock star; ab - a blossom; Lauren - a sassy sister; Jen Lee - a pioneer; jenna - a guide; Helen - a love; Vivienne - a warrior goddess; Heather - a treasure chest; and, Katrina - a lighthouse.

baptism: claiming and naming the ritual, healing and creative arts practice i am building and the creative community i have longed for and found.

renewal: time by the bonfire, beside the lake, under the stars, in the rocking chair and underneath layers and layers and layers of blankets. a kick*ass art-in-nature class led by Christopher Frost - all day, outdoors (my true, true home). refreshing my writing practice in a class led by the delicious Jen Lee. and, "Breathing Space."

leaping: a vow to cultivate play, vitality and being big and a request for my creative community's support in this.

i am - soaring on...

across the river & back again

yesterday late afternoon, a trip across the river to my parents home for the evening & night. a walk with our fam's angel dog. breathing in the quiet, fresh, small town air. exhaling the city air & noise. our favorite pizza. mint chocolate chip ice cream. Marley & Me. a walk into town with dad for coffee (for him) & tea (for me). encountering neighbors along the way. sitting & sipping hot beverages on a familiar bench, one i sat on for the first time nearly 28 years ago while eating an ice cream cone. to bed just after 10 p.m. with her stuffed animal love tucked beside me.

waking at 6 a.m. rising to pain (still) in my left knee. in the shower, asking: "what is this pain in my knee telling me/trying to tell me?" listening to the answer.

stepping out of the shower & after some healing stretching, back into bed to write. then to read.

rising again. making my way back here, to my nest in the city. a smoothie. reading this post.

aware of a chain of aching hearts these days. a string of losses. first days, first occasions & first anniversaries of the grieving variety. deaths of children, grandparents, spouses, animal loves.

i sit here on this 3rd may saturday. the 3rd anniversary coming up. life as i knew it altered, shifted course (annihilated, disintegrated?), broke open on a 3rd may saturday 3 years ago. on this 3rd may saturday i can speak this, "i made my way."

so much i could say about what i mean by this ("i made my way") & not wanting to be misunderstood. for now, this - i made my way through. i crossed over. and, i am here. after the year+ of shock; after months/seasons long stints in the pitch black; after the devastation; after crawling, limping, walking around in the rubble. i am here. i weep & sometimes i sob, in thanks-giving, for my life, for my love, for my belief in the good/god/light...

listening to this song. to all who are tending to broken open hearts i sing you this, i pray you this, because i believe this, "Lights will guide you home..."

"In today's sharp sparkle..."

Obama 2009 Inaugural Poem: "Praise Song for the Day" by Elizabeth Alexander



Praise song for the day.

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others’ eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.

A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, “Take out your pencils. Begin.”

We encounter each other in words, Words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; Words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, “I need to see what’s on the other side; I know there’s something better down the road.”

We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.

Some live by “Love thy neighbor as thy self.”

Others by "first do no harm," or "take no more than you need."

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.

thank you & the winner of the gem parcel

dear beauties,

thank you & you & you & you & Ann & on & on & on...for your generous love offerings in response to my request & in response to your knowing about today & this date & my heartache. all of it makes such a difference. thank you, thank you, thank you.

xo,
gem

**
now for the winner of the first gem parcel of 2009: the divine Kirsten Michelle!

here is how i chose the winner...i wrote each name on a slip of paper and drew a heart next to each name. i folded up each slip of paper. i put all of these slips of paper in my very special "Tribe" hat. i stood in the center of my nest and shook and shook and shook this hat. i waited for the right moment to choose a name while the slips of paper danced in my hat. [the dancin' was fun and went on for quite some time.] then i discovered how the chosen name would be chosen! the first slip of paper to dance out of the hat would be the winner. and, so it is. you, dear Kirsten.

thank you all for playing and for sharing your hopes/words/intentions for 2009. i look forward to the next gem parcel give*away!

marinating in the bliss

as i write this, with the intention to post it in the early a.m., i am marinating in the bliss of being in the presence of the great, wise Mary Oliver. i wrote to a friend, "with each spoken word it felt as if she was offering me/us a communion wafer." it was a holy and sweet time. no doubt, i will wake in the morning of this thanks*giving eve, also my big bro's 35th birth*day, marinating still.

i am in touch with my deepest cravings (for): quiet prayer, gentle partnership, fresh air communion, the freedom of forgiveness and still*full presence.

"What i want to say is that the past is the past and the present is what [my] life is and [I am] capable of choosing what that will be [me, a] darling citizen. So [I will] come to the pond, or the river of [my] imagination, or the harbor of [my] longing, and put [my] lips to the world. And live [my] life."
-from "Mornings at Blackwater" by Mary Oliver

wildflowers

"Wildflowers"
by Tom Petty

You belong among the wildflowers
You belong in a boat out at sea
Sail away, kill off the hours
You belong somewhere you feel free

Run away, find you a lover
Go away somewhere all bright and new
I have seen no other
Who compares with you

You belong among the wildflowers
You belong in a boat out at sea
You belong with your love on your arm
You belong somewhere you feel free

Run away, go find a lover
Run away, let your heart be your guide
You deserve the deepest of cover
You belong in that home by and by

You belong among the wildflowers
You belong somewhere close to me
Far away from your trouble and worry
You belong somewhere you feel free
You belong somewhere you feel free

for bella, for me & for you...this perfect song that i heard tonight during my kundalini yoga class.

some kind of magic

yesterday was some kind of magic. it began with a smile from a stranger on the street as i walked to work. [later in the day i received a kind wink from another.] smiles (and kind winks) do make a difference. lifted up, my entire being smiled. i walked lightly, power*fully and remembered my current mantra: rise.

images of playing tennis (as i did for many, many years while growing up) come to mind when i think of my mantra. specifically, the image of leaning towards and getting behind the ball to power*fully return a hit coming from the one on the other side of the net. this is a stance of responding (versus reacting). it's a stance of yes to life and yes to movement and activism and yes to my power. it's a stance of watching attentively and moving grace*fully.

as i honor this mantra, i recognize that every time i choose to rise i get the chance to dance with flow. to go, partner and play with flow. guiding me to what i call in alignment choices, none too small or ordinary: purchasing a surprise gift for a special someone (something i had been thinking about for a while; i'd been waiting for the right time to purchase it); choosing the dvd's i chose to check out of the library; coming home after a full day at work and resting (rather than washing dishes, checking e-mail, etc.) before going out to meet with a friend; and, tucking myself into bed for a long sleep (rather than turning on the television or reading) after a sweet night of sipping wine and tasting good food with a friend.

you & me...together

word*less these days. tear*full. in*spired. hope*full. thinkin' about the relationship between my november intentions (being new; being in process; and, being fear*less) & the election of Barack Obama/my heart*full & mind*full response to the election of Barack Obama.

i feel big, wide, connected, open. i feel light, proud. i feel awake, alive, resurrected.

i am thank*full. i am in awe.

i recognize aspects of my true nature when i watch/listen to/witness Barack Obama: grace, wisdom, integrity. this feels like such a relief. i recognize how long i've been waiting for this, too.

i am asking: how can i play a part now, in this hope*movement, this change*movement, this makin'-a-difference*movement?

and, i am dancin'.

7 discoveries & 7 more

7 recent bloggie*world discoveries:

1. i heart this post at {the penny has dropped}. the title is near and dear to me: "{soul sister}". you must read it here. i thought of my dear friend, d., when i read this. she and i have become sweetly close in recent months/the past year. indeed, a grat*nour.

2. i referred to this site in a recent post and i am in*spired to say a bit more about 3191 a year of evenings. this site contains an evening image from one beauty in portland, maine and another evening image from a beauty in portland, oregon. read more here about the release of their book A Year of Mornings / 3191 Miles Apart. i heart this idea.

3. i am lovin' this site: A Beautiful Mess. i am wantin' this Autumn Loves Craft Kit.

4. ilka's attic. gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. her study in red post is enchanting.

5. Be...Dream...Play... continues to speak to me.

6. i am touched by this post by Stacy...in particular, the words about beginning imperfectly.

7. the grand finale: i love, love, loved this post entitled Seven Sensational Things To Do When You're Not Feeling So Super by jen lemen over here.

that 7th bloggie*world discovery inspired me to write my own list o' 7.

here is a list o' 7 things/options that support me when i need supportin' (i.e., when i'm in a yucky*mucky head/mind space):

1. pause. stay paused. for as long as it takes. sometimes this looks like coming to a screeching halt and re*grouping/re*grounding and then takin' that next step.

2. lie down, if necessary. and, do nothing else but lie down. do not turn on the television or grab a book or magazine. just lie down.

3. find my breath. breathe. deeply. find my center. feel my center.

4. dance it out. Kris Carr taught me this.

5. be mind*full of when how i'm "feeling" is running the show. in particular, when i'm in a dis*empowering, life*defeating "i don't feel like it" space. allow for it and make room for other options.

6. move. literally change my landscape. go outside. go into the office. go to the coffeeshop. notice shift happening.

7. practice, practice, practice presence. i find this practice sometimes more appropriately named: the practice of delaying instant gratification. rather than going for the easy thing/distraction (e.g., food, television) i do the hardEST thing ever and taste and tune into what is right here, right now.

do you have any 7's to share?

just

i've been receiving these "just" messages lately:

*just breathe.
*just do the time. [for me, this means doing the time of grieving & doing the time of healing...as if my life depended on it...which it does.]
*just write.
*just this.

what messages are you receiving lately?

there is nothing wrong

do you ever have times when you can't stand yourself/your way(s) of being? when you are exasperated by your own darn self? to the point of tears i had this experience on friday evening. it wasn't an isolated, one time incident that caused the frustration and trembling (i was literally shaking with upset). it was the awareness of a repeated way of being in a particular space in my life which is so far out of alignment with who i want to be, who i know my highest, fullest expression to be. no, it was not the first time i had this awareness; it was more like the (without exaggeration) 1,000th time i had this awareness. i was uncomfortable, disgusted and ashamed. ugh.

i'm talkin' years of reacting the same way. yet, more than anything i wanted it to be different NOW. yes, years (over 4 of 'em) of reacting the same way and i want it to be different in a second. effective immediately: no more complaining; no more scowling; no more gettin' hysterical; no more little miss pissy pants; no more lookin' bad; no more justifyin'; no more spiraling out of control. when that doesn't happen i get defeated. you can imagine how defeated i've felt/been feeling.

it's like i want to rub out that this way of being is even a part of who i can be, who i be, sometimes. just get rid of it. then i launch a very unhelpful attack on myself: "what's wrong with me? why can't i be different? i know the difference between reacting and responding! i've been doing this for years. STOP the madness." i end this rant to me where i began: "what's wrong with me?!"

i have been sitting rather uncomfortably in all of this for a couple of days now. i've been trying to be compassionate towards me and remind myself: it's a process. this morning, after some tears, a mantra (to support and accompany me) emerged, piece by piece: "i am still. i am quiet. i am listening. i am responding." nearly complete, this mantra. then the true first line of this mantra was revealed: "there is nothing wrong."

there is nothing wrong.
i am still.
i am quiet.
i am listening.
i am responding.

all of this mantra is great and help-full, of course. and, the piece that saves me and inspires me is the beginning. i must start with: "there is nothing wrong." there is nothing wrong. there is nothing wrong. there is nothing wrong.

treasuring...

*a black & white calla lily "impromptu postcard" from my "lady friends in Maine"
*a fun "4 things about me" e-mail exchange with my soulsister s., my oldest friend (e.g., 4 jobs i have had in my life; 4 movies i would watch over and over; 4 places i've lived; 4 favorite foods); perhaps i will share these bits in another post...
*planning a late june/early july beach reunion with peeps who are family; celebrating nearly 11 years of livin' & knowin' & lovin' one another!
*the dear diary stories, marta writes
*a cup of heaven rooibos tea in my favorite mug, which by the way was found on the sale table at one of my favorite shops
*writing
*The Ganesh Mantra: Om Gam Ganapataye Namah; a mantra known to remove obstacles, inner and outer, along the path. thank you, beautiful t., for sharing this mantra at the perfect/divine time!
*the library
*avocados & grape tomatoes
*chocolate chip + walnut cookie dough
*therapy
*the color yellow; the color of sunshine and ripe bananas
*these words from The Persistence of Yellow by Monique Duval, #317: "Everything melted, rained, unraveled, became, grew wings, attempted flight, flopped, tried again, succeeded. Just another day."
*these words from Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert: "I remember her taking me by the shoulders and looking me in the eye with a calm smile and saying simply, 'Tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth'" (p. 94).
*hope
*imagining
*creating
*grace before meals
*learning & practicing living the poem, "The Journey", by Mary Oliver: "One day you finally knew/what you had to do, and began,/though the voices around you/kept shouting/their bad advice-/though the whole house/began to tremble/and you felt the old tug/at your ankles./'Mend my life!'/each voice cried./But you didn't stop./You knew what you had to do,/though the wind pried/with its stiff fingers/at the very foundations,/though their melancholy/was terrible./It was already late/enough, and a wild night,/and the road full of fallen/branches and stones./But little by little,/as you left their voices behind,/the stars began to burn/through the sheets of clouds,/and there was a new voice/which you slowly/recognized as your own,/that kept you company/as you strode deeper and deeper/into the world,/determined to do/the only thing you could do-/determined to save/the only life you could save."

what are you treasuring?

dialogue

the other night i asked: "what is bella's message for me right now?"

the card responded: "Play and laughter are the greatest healers."

then i asked: "what do i need to know right now?"

one card said: "Peace comes to you if you stop craving..."

another card said: "Everything in nature has its special healing powers. Discover your own..."

[card responses from The Wisdom of Elves and Fairies cards by Gayan Sylvie Winter]

on your 43rd birthday

happy birthday, brother.

this date arrives faithfully year after year. 4/4. as i approach this day, you arrive. you enter my mind and heart space. you walk in at the start of april, blasting through the front door without warning, a phone call in advance to announce "i'm coming" or even a knock. you'd think i'd remember after all these years that it's april and you're coming. perhaps i'm the april (forgetful) fool. your entrance can't be restrained. it's like breath in my body. it's just there. it emerges. makes its way in. you make your way in.

you are a part of me. we are connected. we are sister and brother. in our way. in the way that i see it and in the way that my heart and wisdom understand it.

i remember. your big (literally, you being 10 years older) and playful presence all those years at the beginning of my life. then the sudden and seemingly absolute physical absence and the presence of the absence. now as i sit, i recall some absence, some distance, even when you were present in the beginning.

the last time i saw you was when i was 9; you were turning/had just turned 20. it was spring/nearly spring. it was the day of your maternal grandmother's funeral. it was a rainy day. bella hadn't been born yet. i realize as i write: the last time i saw you was when you were just about/had just turned 20 and the last time i saw bella alive in her physical body was when she was 20 years, 5 months and 6 days old.

for so many years (i.e., 19) what i remembered most about that day was that you didn't (couldn't/wouldn't) look at me and i wanted you to. for so many years it was the day i was rejected, abandoned; it was the day that my hope of being the recipient of something i desperately wanted and needed was taken away. i was little then and i placed my hope (of being the little sister cared for, loved, guided and protected by her biggest brother) on you. i wanted you to feed me, to satisfy my wild, tender, colossal hunger. misplaced, childlike, yes. honest, yes.

three years ago, after some intentional digging, i found a phone number for you on the internet. i called and left a message. i tried again and we spoke. we spoke some more. fragments. awkward. bits. me trying and spinning and trying. then somehow (again, as natural as breath emerging in my body) there was releasing and allowing. the last time we spoke (so brief) was about 7 months before bella's death. you said you would call back; you didn't.

it is okay. somewhere, in a place beyond words, in my heart, i understand. i am not pushing, pulling or pumping anymore. you do not need to be who i wanted you to be. what i grieved all those years was the loss of who i wanted, who i hoped, who i (thought i) needed you to be. all you need to be, though, is you as you are. this is enough. plenty enough.

today i wish for you what you wish for you.

you, brother, are present in my heart.

thinking of you, wherever, however you be.

thank you for your presence.

happy 43rd birthday, c.

love,
your sister

packin' up

to heart-shaped Africa i am going. we (me & my momma) fly on friday early evening. to the land from which my dear bella's spirit rose to twirl & tango with the moon & the stars...to be of service in new ways.

here i go. it feels like i am "returning" to a land that has been calling out to me forever & ever. since the beginning & before the beginning. returning...even though i have never been to Africa in my physical body in this lifetime.

one of the gazillions of squealing-with-delight delights: taking bella's stuffed animal love that my momma, big bro & i purchased in july 1985, weeks before bella's birth. bella took her stuffed precious moments lamb love with her everywhere. everywhere except Africa. she left him for us. this lamb love is taking flight with us, too. and, no, no, no he will not be "checked."

bless you and all of your pilgrim voyages, internal & external, in the moments, hours, mornings, nights, days and weeks to come.

tiny bird

the egg hatched.
i have broken through.
here i am.

"...to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,
learning to sing in my new nest..."
-from "Please Call Me By My True Names" by Thich Nhat Hanh

what would i do

the brave and soul-full Jen Ballantyne asked this real and true question: what would i do if i only had 12 months to live?

awake in the dark in the early morning hours i remembered this question. this question that was asked of me (as a reader visiting Jen's blog for the first time on friday). here is what is emerging for me in response...

i would clarify/focus my intention/attention. i would remember my purpose for being here, on this earthly plane at this time, in this place: presence & healing. i would continue to write (a holy calling of mine). i would continue to write love letters & send treasures in the mail (one of my favorite things!). i would keep telling people how much i love, adore & cherish them. i would tell my family, community & tribe how they have given me life & saved me again and again and again; i would keep telling them how grateful i am for them. i would pray constantly, speaking to the closest & dearest partner i've known in this lifetime: spirit/wisdom/love. i would go with the flow & remember to pause and redirect my energy (sooner) when realizing that i was blocking the flow/getting in the way of source/life/spirit. i would let go of the tightness, the holding in my body and mind. i would write a list of the places in my life where my integrity was out and restore the integrity in each place, one by one. i would let myself fall in love in new, deeper, surprising & mysterious ways. i would forgive myself for my (perfect) imperfections. i would ask some souls for their forgiveness for the ways in which i was unjust, unkind and hurtful. i would enter into the delicious-ness, the tasty-ness of each moment. i would taste each bite of food. i would remind myself to look, to see what is. i would create rituals & i would invite others to participate. i would ask others to sit with me, to be with me, to hold me, to create rituals for me. i would speak the truth and only the truth/the heart of the matter. i would grieve. i would howl, scream, cry, sob. i would, no doubt, let go more. i would allow for more be-ing and less do-ing. i would take deep, deep breaths. i would call on bella. i would call on my maternal grandmother. i would dance. i would sing. i would free myself. i would laugh, deep belly laughs. i would be light.

thank you, Jen, for this opportunity, for the invitation to the table of your heart, for including me/us in your journey.

(right) foot invitation

in late november of 2005 an injury emerged in my right foot. really, it was like that. it emerged. or, perhaps, descended is a more fitting word. i literally came home from work one day and took off my comfortable/practical footwear (no potentially pain-inducing shoes for this chiquita) and experienced a powerful, piercing pain in my right foot. it felt like a bone in my foot needed to crack or that two bones were stuck together in a weird, unaligned way and needed to be realigned. the pain was debilitating.

after a bit of a fiasco with one doctor, a new doctor and an mri i was diagnosed with a stress pressure and was given a snazzy black cam walker boot to wear & a prescription for what would be months of physical therapy. this was the beginning of a series of sudden events (all in 6 months) that ripped through my life, transforming my life beyond recognition. [did i mention that days after finishing physical therapy for my right foot injury i took a misstep while walking down my narrow, steep & curvy staircase in my (former) home and severely injured the left foot?] the transformation is still unfolding.

in recent weeks my right foot has been a bit achy. it's aching on a deeper level in the past 24 hours. and, i've been a bit hysterical about it (at least in my mind & energetically). visions of me in a big black boot in africa dance in my head. [the same boot i was wearing when our beloved bella went off to africa for her study abroad program.] this a.m. with tears in my eyes and a strong desire to crawl under my desk at work and sob uncontrollably and howl i sent an e-mail entitled, "help!" to members of my community. it was all i knew to do; it was all there was to do. what i was asking for (as i realized in receiving my community members' responses) was: "please speak to me in the spacious, loving voice of wisdom/spirit because i can't quite get it together enough to gift myself with this voice. i am too busy being anxious & dismayed. please give me other words (words other than the "f" bomb!). thank you very much." [speaking of anxious, i recently heard someone define anxiety as "excitement without breath."]

so here i sit. having iced my foot, made an appt. with my beloved bodyworker and taken some deep breaths. [nearly everyone's first response to my "help!" message was: "breathe."] i am noticing my resistance. again. again & again & again i notice this: my resistance. i don't want this to be this way. i want it to be my way. my way does not include an aching right foot three weeks from when i am boarding a plane to travel to the land where my bella died.

i'm not gonna lie, i want to throw some color-full language in the direction of spirit/energy/love/light/god. and, isn't it true that spirit/energy/love/light/god is really me? so, yes, i suppose i want to throw some color-full language my way, too. we are one. it always comes to this doesn't it? no-body, no-being, no-thing is doing this to me. it is. it is life. living. being.

and, here i sit. as i am a vessel of wisdom and as it is nearly 12 hours, 1/2 a day, since i sent out my plea, can i respond to my "help!" message? i can begin.

sweet gem, you are doing a really good job of paying attention to your right foot. yes, sometimes you are obsessing. and, that's okay, too. you are listening. all that's being asked right now is that you take that attention deeper...that you tune into the listening tucked away underneath those first layers. you are excavating & adventuring. i know it's dark in there. still, i know, there is a voice in this that wants to be heard by you. i know you are beginning to hear it. faintly. and, i know that you want to find it, hear this voice and her words clearly. i know you want to cozy up next to her/these words. i know, too, that you are a bit resistant. that you don't know if you can or want to tune in. i know you're wondering: what will be asked of me? and, i want you to know: we can do this. complete the circle. heal more. i know you're hungry for it. i know that as you were reading about Rabi'a al-'Adawiyya last night that you were touched by these words "on fire with love and longing" and that you knew that this was you, too: on fire with love and longing. this has always been you. on fire. this foot thing, it's only this: you becoming more of you. filling up your own (spirit) self in your (spirit) skin. your body is a temple. these words keep showing up, yes?! we are cleansing the vessel. keep tuning in. it will all be taken care of. you will be taken care of.

peace to you all on this winter's night.