My voice and feelings get scattered and fragmented at times.
We all process on different frequencies. Right now I’m one with heavy, wet mud and moss. While sinking into my steps this early morning, I had my mug wrapped inside my heart.
Then it clicked: I’m rethreading a trifold union of mind, body and spirit.
Our inner strands can be tight or loose or frayed. Sometimes it’s hard to thread the needle when our focus is fuzzy and other times it’s hard to sew straight when the fabric of life changes; for good, bad and not.
In respect for each of us, we are all shifting, creating and filling in the creases where the folds at times can be incongruent. It can feel unsettling or liberating.
And so I write, to let you know thank you for being here. My heart spills left and right. My words come out raw and real. I’m shaking out dusty fabric swaths, finding hidden stashes, holding tiny calico prints from childhood dresses and feeling the starched smocking against my skin.
The cedar chest of hope – is a myth. We carry the hope, spirit and love within.