January’s Skies

In the quiet morning hours, dark clouds are rushing somewhere, drifting across the early sun with hast. The air is heavy with the heat of summer, but this morning the wind is deliciously cool and trees dance vigorously to her breathy whispers.

Yes, the mid-summer days are marching on swiftly and something is beginning to stir within. A gentle call that says “It’s time…”

I feel the urge building in my heart. Beneath January’s skies, words are returning to me. Insights are rising as I pause between each breath. And slowly as one day rolls into the next, I am beginning to write again. The wild stories of my heart are finding their way into form. The paths they’ve chosen are somewhat different than what they have been in the past. I sense that how I write and what I share will shift a bit, a natural consequence of inner transformation I guess. In some parts my focus has become clearer, in others not so much. Either way, I sit committed to the truths that wish to be expressed, open to the direction that this fresh voice is steering me in. I choose to step into this space of unfolding with curiosity, remaining true to my inner light and surrendering to the guidance of the Divine.

Where do you find yourself under January’s skies? How do you choose to step forward?

Wild Rain Moon

I named her the rain moon because when she rose into the warm night sky, gusts of wild wind came with her. She quickly pulled on a gown of thick dark grey clouds. The wind whipped trees danced violently. Their branches bent downward to kiss the earth, and then swept upward to the honour the heavens, with only the strength of their spirit holding them together. Then the lightning came, deep shards of cold fire that slashed across the clouds. And then, the rain…

Real rain, wild rain

Yet soothing, like a soft and cool shower of dreams pouring from the dark night

The blessing that we’d been praying for

I’d almost forgotten what it was like to stand in the blustery shadows of mystery just moments before a storm. I’d forgotten what it was like to fall asleep to its pitter patter lullaby and to wake up to the gentle rumble of thunder.

Dear rain moon, a lot more is needed and although it may be days before the next shower comes, I am grateful for the blessing of a tiny answered prayer.

rainy-window

A Breath of Hope

​There is beauty in this world, and I will never stop seeking its subtle essence – one that brings me back to the gentle, rhythmic beat of my heart. For when I breathe it all in, I inhale hope. I draw light into tender spaces that life’s dark moments had left in ruin. That breath, that glimmer of light makes me feel that I must still carry some precious place of wholeness within and that despite all that is wrong with the world, something good still exists.