this week has been a kaleidoscope of thoughts and feelings,
emotions that are too big to contain, too real to hide.
this week has been like whiplash for the soul,
as each moment shifts and changes direction before I can even catch my breath.
this week was absorbing stories,
allowing them to consume me so that I could hear their cries
and hold space for their desperation,
and then –
could I embrace each one so that they felt heard,
loved and accepted
before continuing on without the fear of drowning amongst them,
carrying on in spite of them,
as they now followed my lead.
this week was chocolate cake baked tenderly for my Self,
slicing it, tearing into it piece by piece,
consuming it however I damn well please –
sans icing, knowing the cake is the most delectable part.
It was sliver after sliver of celebration
devoured and enjoyed in a quiet sort of acknowledgement
for a step towards being heard.
photo credit: mamascout
this week was pulling myself out of the vortex of comparison
before I tripped and fell deeper,
spiraling out of control.
it was feeling and showing genuine gratitude for the experience
exactly as it presented itself,
with appreciation for what was -
an expansion, a risk, an allowing.
this week was a little less careful,
a little less perfection,
a little more spontaneous combustion.
this week was sinking into the season,
streaming lights that twinkle,
brandishing flames of warmth,
mixing, combining, blending ingredients
with the anticipation of nourishment
it was creating lists of words to come
that echo this warmth
and are wrapped delicately
with comforting intentions for the days ahead.
this week was not wanting what I want.
of wishing that the ideas, the thoughts, the questions
didn’t pull my attention this way and that,
bending me beyond recognition,
urging me to create,
to design a life.
this week was maddening thoughts,
pulling me further from where I am
so that I am able to construct what I only dream of,
it was the plea to keep all of these thoughts to myself,
not daring to let them out into the light
because they don’t come fast enough,
fast enough to quiet the noise and satiate the desire.
this week was looking up,
and exhaling with relief.
it was being led by the errant wind,
coming face to face with youthful sorrow,
and stumbling forward.
this week was a gathering,
the rhythm of the earth,
a circle of women,
an unearthing of fire
beckoning my Self to come forward
and once again be seen
as only I can be seen.