Lately my writing practice has returned to it’s roots… I’m hand writing in my journal. I have been reunited with an old pattern where my journal lives as a friend and companion… with whom I share, explore, discover, uncover, inquire, set intentions, pray, cry and celebrate. Up until recently my journals had become a mixture of personal journal and notebook for thoughts, ideas and projects. Now I’ve returned to having a relationship with my journal (which is my self, Self, God, others, and sometimes even future readers).
With this new practice and the waves of my life I haven’t been writing here much. I’ll tell you a bit of a picture story.
The other day, a foggy damp day, I opened my front door and was really moved by the scene that welcomes one to our house. It’s beauty, simplicity, color and style touched my heart. I felt welcomed into my own home.
Much of my journey lately has be about welcoming myself into my own home. Literally there are transitions happening in my home as Thomas is now living part time in Port Townsend and our relationship is shifting to new dimensions. Kara has also been living with us off and on, inviting a new experience of community.
More powerfully, however, I am symbolically being welcomed into my own soul-home. A 5-year-old once said to me “I’m moving into a new house inside my body.” I feel like this.
I feel like I am coming into a new relationship with myself. I am learning how to love and care for myself in new ways… how to lean deeper into my own being and deeper into my relationship with God/Spirit.
Life has been a polarized experience bouncing from wide open, expansive and reflective spaces to the intensity of water’s chaotic power. I am learning about my center, about core places of stillness, about my habits, about trust and acceptance.
These photos were taken a week and half ago when I went on retreat by myself. A friend graciously offered me her family’s beach house where I retreated to “host myself in ways that I host others.” It was a powerful, centering, grounding and opening experience. “I feel myself connecting with a sweet, dear child who is me. Me who is longing to be known {by me} to be felt {by me} to be loved {by me}.” That time was a real gift and so is this time of integration and continued learning.
I smiled with the perfection of life when I found this picture in my mailbox at school today. Kids can leave me notes or pictures or requests to see me. Today I recieved a mailbox of love letters and valentines from some first graders. This one now hangs above my desk at home… reminding me of the rhythms of the waves – that come with all their intensity and also pass, the stillness of the expansive empty sky, and the radiance of light… all wrapped in an innocent and genuine offering of a child’s playful love.