Glancing sideways into your window as I pass on no particular business, a glimpse like a cannonball of the warm hearth within. Not for me this rich tapestried chamber, not for me this flickering firelight, not for me this shelter. I must make my peace with the storm.
This is harder than I thought a hard thing could be. The fire is so enchanting… Do I need to follow this pain to the ends of the earth until it becomes a treasured friend or falls away like old skin?
I’m resting in myself, nestled in the crook of my own heartbeat. Warm home fires burn, cleansing fertile flames. Keeping safe from dungeons and dragons, making light what has felt so heavy. That’s not the way we ebb and flow, not the way we learn and grow, not the way we are…
The sea finds the shore by being still fluid, allowing the rhythmic sway of the moon to send soft ripples of energy through it, propelled to meet the land in perfect time. The distance between two waves of the whole never closes until they disintegrate on the shore and return deep to the belly of the ocean to be born anew.
“To love purely is to consent to distance, it is to adore the distance between ourselves and that which we love.” ~ Simone Weil
“I love this man sitting before me now, because I do not possess him and he does not possess me. We are free in our mutual surrender. I need to repeat this dozens, hundreds, millions of times, until I finally believe my own words.” ~ Paulo Coehlo, Eleven Minutes
The hurricane season of the heart, tearing through life. Right in the centre I’ll meet you, in the eye of the storm, where the air is still and the colours are brightest. Slow our heart’s beating to a deeper earthy pulse, resonating and reverberating, fingers entwined. Rest and be nourished to stand strong and separate through the raging vortex when it comes. You build your shelter, I’ll find mine. Go to ground and face the demons.
And when it passes, as everything does, we’ll walk on and pick up the pieces of this world that shimmer still from the rubble, gleaming with all that is good and real, and carefully, lovingly build a house of dreams for all.
If only I don’t bend and break
I’ll meet you on the other side
I’ll meet you in the light
If only I don’t suffocate
I’ll meet you in the morning when you wake
~ Keane, Bend & Break
“It is not the being, and not even the doing that exhausts. It is the trying. Trying to be present, to be awake, to hold the whole world, to be better, more self-aware, more conscious.”
— Oriah Mountain Dreamer, The Invitation Plus
Winter is whispering at the door and whistling through the windows. Taunting the tireless, provoking the restless.
Come into my cool, dark embrace – rest awhile. Lay down your doing and being, tether up your trying and stable it over the long night I bring you. Let the flames of the hearth consume the sodden off-cuts of Summer until all that remains is smouldering fertile beginnings of Summer to come.
Now is the time for incubation, slow cooking – deep underground where the earth’s molten heart warms through the sacrifice of Spring’s bright optimism and the summer’s lush grass- until it is tender and nourishing for hungry souls come in from the cold.
Longer days will come soon enough and you’d better be fresh and ready to roll!
“I want to quit running from my own tiredness. I want to be willing and able to move only as fast as I am capable of moving while still remaining connected to the impulse to move from deep within, stopping when I have lost that slender thread of desire and having the courage and faith to wait, in stillness, until I find it again.”
—Oriah Mountain Dreamer, The Invitation Plus