It is Christmas day, 12:18 pacific standard time. I sit alone in my living room. Which is 'living ' in full bloom at the moment. The fireplace is blazing a real wood fire and the sweet scent of our Douglas Fir Christmas tree permeates the air. And is enhanced my the warmth of the crackling fire. Stockings are hanging and beautiful blinking lights like twinkling stars are everywhere.
Its times like this I miss a proper winter with the snow. The pull towards relaxing, reflecting and hibernating appeals to me so. It has been a long and difficult year. I am grateful for the gifts that presently appear to be happening in the future. And in the present.
I am grateful for the way my perspective seems to be transitioning. Not easy to put into words. But I knew I needed to write....its been SO long, too long. Then it occurred to me, I was not going to write. IT was gonna write me. This feels so much more free when I remember it is not "me", "I", the ego, the mind, whatever. But I am simply the vehicle.
It Is a life force flowing through. And my job is to be self aware enough to get OUT of the way as the flow of this magical life takes me perfectly where I need to go. OR be. Which is always WHERE I AM. Like it or not, wherever we are is perfect.
We all feel more seemingly alive in the drama of all this suffering but approaching 50, on Feb 1.....I for one and exhausted. I want to truly learn to extract the true joy of the moment. The closet I come is in moments with my Myles,21. And with Christian, 7. Children are truly, I say time and time again, the beauty of the world.
The innocence and intimacy and pure deep love and respect (which is essential) that I have had the gift of experiencing with my two sons, has-is-and continues to be unparalleled. I feel safe to give them everything, all of me....it is a strange thing.
I want to be writing more often..........xxxooo
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It is nice to see you writing here again. I, too, am a Midwestern-born girl living in an area where snow no longer marks the transition of seasons. I find myself longing for it this year, missing the smell of snow in the air, the comfort of a cup of hot apple cider, a blanket, and a book offers against the wet, but beautiful cold. I'm not sure if it is nostalgia, or a part of me that needs the comfort of the small things.
ReplyDelete"Everything is a mystery and we're all detectives." ~ David Lynch
ReplyDeleteYay! Welcome back :)
ReplyDeleteExhausted, but happy to know that you still intend to share your thoughts here!
ReplyDeleteThank you :)
Sherilyn, are you returning to Twin Peaks? I hope so!
ReplyDeletei've had a dreadful year of loss and pain. The new year can't come soon enough. there's no sudden physical or mental change with that turn of a calendar, but there's something emotional - a line in the sand i can hopefully draw, and likewise draw curtains behind me and aim onward.
ReplyDeleteJung said "“There is no coming to consciousness without pain. People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own Soul."
So the consciousness that facing our souls brings.
Welcome back Sherilyn. You've been missed.
ReplyDeleteHow wonderful to read your words again, Sherilyn! Happy (belated) holidays to you and your family!
ReplyDeleteWOODEN SHIPS
ReplyDeleteAnd I wait
To move on
Like wooden ships to battle
With sea legs
And visions
With messages
Signs of
Last transmission
In the end
I question my quest
The mystery
Will I be gutted
Or fly the flag of victory
What part of this war
Will take the whole of me
Which parts will take hold of me
Piece by piece
Dragging each damaged part
As if out of time
Wooden ships to battle
Who and what is left to fight
Where and when do I sink in
Or float on caps of white
Into the horizon
-Msfina
Happy belated birthday, Sherilyn! I am happy you are writing and sharing again. You have been missed... Thank you.
ReplyDeleteYep. Happy Belated BDay.
ReplyDelete