This Journey

We are, each one of us, on a journey to ourselves. Many of us (I don’t know why it’s this way) are born into family systems that steer us further away from ourselves. This steering away is influenced by the cultural, political and religious systems that are in place when we are born. We then spend a lot of our life trying to release what isn’t true for us or that isn’t serving our wholeness. We want to serve the greater good by sharing our unique gifts, but there is all of this undoing that has to happen before we can access what we’re here to share. So it seems.

Several years ago, I crafted and presented creative writing workshops. These workshops arose from a place of my own individual self-exploration. However, the template I created could be applied to guiding other writers and seekers with processing and integrating their own experiences through creative writing. It was a wonderful, intuitive and healing experience for all participants. However, at some point, I decided that until I was more whole, more evolved or wiser, that I should stop sharing in this way.

I withdrew from presenting workshops. There were other more imperative things that I needed to tend such as my ailing parents. Then, there was a high maintenance relationship that diverted my attention. That was followed by a timidity and the thought that I didn’t have the energy to present in this way. So everything that I had created, crafted and cultivated laid in a heap in a file cabinet drawer waiting, waiting, waiting for some prince to come and kiss it awake, or not.

The truth is that you’re never going to have it all together. There is not going to be a perfect time when all conditions are right. And the stars won’t be perfectly aligned as a clue for you to begin. Besides, your wholeness involves all of your imperfections and that vulnerability is part of your charm. This is the place where people can connect with you authentically. It helps them recognize their own vulnerable places that need tender loving care.

“If I waited until I had all of my ducks in a row, I’d never cross the street. Sometimes you just have to gather up what you’ve got and make a run for it.”

A friend sent me this quote as I was writing my blog this morning. It fits perfectly with what I’m saying…that is take your beautiful, imperfect self, go out into the world and share your gifts. Wherever you are in your personal journey is good enough. Can you imagine a world where each and every being–with their unique perspective–creates a potpourri of diversity, the wondrous variety of life?

Enjoy the sharing and the human discovering that you are.

A New Relationship to Snow

I live in the mountains, but I haven’t always.  I spent most of my life living beside the ocean.  When I moved to the mountains twenty years ago, I had very little familiarity with snow.  Those first few winters, I was immersed and quickly educated on the reality of snow.  “Pretty on a postcard, but practically problematic” (from a poem I wrote).  Mine has been an evolving relationship with snow.  At first, I found it exciting, then daunting.  Beautiful and restrictive.  Enchanting and unpleasant.

Today, it is welcome (though not to the point of overwhelm) and appreciated.  For I understand the wisdom of snow.  How it coaches us to quiet ourselves, to slow our pace, to go within.  How it frosts the trees, covers the earth, seeps into the ground.  How it facilitates the fruiting of trees and the flowering of plants and the impetus of underground bulbs.  Is everything a metaphor?  Do we make it so?

There is poetic beauty in the first light snowfall, the large unique flakes that sift like fairy feathers lit by the back porch light.  That mesmerizing whirl of flakes that can put one into a trancelike state.  The deep quiet that is induced when the snow is softly falling. The first waking to a snow-blanketed world, the sweet shock of it all.

Then there is the impasse that deep snow creates.  The waiting for the snowplow to clear the roads.  More waiting for the men to come and shovel my driveway and pathways.  There is no going anywhere fast.  And if you dare to walk when its icy, be sure to wear your shoe chains.  Once, despite wearing shoe chains, I slipped.  I was carrying a cup of coffee from the local cafe.  I held that cup high in the air as I slid and fell to my knees.  I did not spill one single drop of that cup of coffee.

Hot foods, soups, warm grogs, hot chocolate are appreciated more when the weather is cold and there is confining snow.  Soup sipped and bread broken with friends adds to the warmth of the wood fire.

These days, the wisdom of snow supersedes everything for me. Following the last several summers of smoke and fires, I’m so grateful for the snow that soaks, saturates, nourishes the trees and the earth and every living creature.  The snowmelt that feeds our springs, raises our water table.  While there have been times that I desired an “easy winter,” now I’m grateful when winter behaves like winter.

Winter is a time of gestation on many levels.  We aren’t meant to plunge on ahead and force growth.  It is wise to slow down, integrate our experiences and be present with the slow growth of our own wisdom.

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thoughts on snow from an early journal:

Today, there is finally snow!  I have to say that my whole body has been waiting for the relief of snow.  Something in me was holding my breath, waiting, anticipating, leaning into as if I were frozen in the form of someone about to dive, but unable to.  Not until that first exhale of new snow falling–then I could breathe deeply once again.  I appreciate that there’s nowhere to get to this morning.  That I don’t need an excuse to stay in and cook, or paint (or if I get to it, sorting and organizing).  Maybe I’ll begin writing that book that I want to write…or daydream a bit.