Spring is amazing and so is the sky

Spring is amazing and so is the sky. This is a post that I started a couple months ago and felt blocked about finishing until now.  It's still spring, and I think I better get on it or spring will be over -- although in Oregon, spring lasts for months. This is a picture of camellia petals that happened to have transformed this formerly neglected corner of my yard into a work of art, a party, a sacred moment.  I was out pruning some fruit trees and noticed this beautiful happening on my way to get a tool out of the garage. Which tells you that it was a couple of months ago because now the fruit trees are leafing out and pruning is long past.
 

And this was the view out my window, before the leaves came in.  It is precious to sit in the morning and give thanks for the beauty of the sun rising, the day, the warmth of tea, the quiet.  Feeling the ease of breath moving in, moving out.  Hips opening as I sit cross-legged on a cushion.  To just sit, letting my spine be long, shoulders drop, belly making breath. 

Lately I have felt stuck in some respects, and have not known how to express what is useful for sharing into the world.  I want to share my process of healing and unfoldment in a way that either educates or inspires a reader to feel her own movement and growth.  I would love to light another soul on fire, even a little, towards freedom.  

But I guess I have to light myself on fire first.  To find a crack in the density of space that's wide and deep enough to let light pour in from another dimension.  To unhinge all the doors and rules and agreements and let truth explode unvarnished into the now. Yes, that feels like it.  I've been trying very hard to fix and heal some parts of me that feel heavy and hanging on me like wet coats.  I've been afraid to let it all hang out, afraid if the truth isn't pretty.  Judging myself, feeling judged.  I think in some ways it would be better to just be totally insane and entirely outside the social contract.  I wouldn't be surprised if lots of people feel like that - secretly wanting to talk to themselves, weep and scream in public, take off their clothes, just buck it all.  And thinking about that, I wonder, what would happen?  Yes, there would be lots of odd stares and nervous looking at and away, maybe call in the authorities to decide what to do with a woman who is not playing by the rules.  But I can sense in myself also a compassionate nod to a person who is going through the throes of casting off a bunch of intolerable life-squelching restrictions.  Restrictions whose only purpose is to make other people comfortable with the status quo, the normal, the sameness. 

I do it on the dance floor sometimes.  That's when I feel the most alive.  The rest of the time, my body has been hurting.  No, I don't really believe it's because of getting older.  I believe my muscles and joints are talking to me, saying, "Hey, you've got some more baggage to unload here."  And I do try to listen.  It's hard to hear sometimes, though.  Most recently, I listened to the muscle that goes down the front of my neck and into the chest, that steel ropey thing.  With the help of a gifted energy healer, that muscle said, "Hey, you are an exquisitely sensitive feminine emotional receiver and generator.  Be that."  I want to just love it into its freedom.  I will keep on doing that until it is free.  

And I just took a walk around my neighborhood, whilst humming the whole time. Making the sounds of what's going on inside of me.  That felt good.  And the color of the sky right now in the west is pink and good and true.  So I will close with that image.  May all beings be filled with the pink light of evening and our hearts be alive with gratitude and hope.


Thank you ever so much, whoever should happen to read this.  I am grateful to have a voice and have it listened to.  We are all unfolding, individually, together.  I feel you.  And it is good.  

credit: David Ward