into the heart

by admin on January 6, 2013

writing buddha

the last year has been a whirl-wind of adventures and sadness, changes a plenty, uncertainty, grounding, magick and mystery, and a heart that never stops trying. I can’t remember a time I felt so rooted into shifting sand. even now, after all the transition of the dying 2012, the upheaval, the heartbreak, the unexpected emptiness … even now, there is a sweetness in the decay. I remember the way Autumn smells, the mulch of fallen leaves churned underfoot, the sudden sticky-sweet smell of crumbling back into the Earth. and now it is January, and no leaves remain, but here is the smell of it, pungent and tangy in my nostrils.

the days before my birthday are always filled with reflection. perhaps it comes from growing up in a place of many frozen lakes, the glassy surface firm and clear under foot as I ventured further from shore, a place you can walk on water without getting wet. the days before aging, like those last moments before birth, are a time of turmoil, change, tumult. preparing to emerge into a new way of being takes courage and strength beyond imagination.

this year has been especially hard for me, and these last few days before turning 28 are filled with more tears than normal. a year ago, I thought that so much had been decided. plans were in motion to fill dreams I had long-since shelved away. one month later they were all shattered, and the eleven months following meant picking up the pieces, building a life I could savor, trying and failing and trying again. and now, less than a month before this latest re-emergence, I find myself picking up the pieces all over again, tucking them bit by bit into this bag of skin carrying around the disparate self.

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as I move closer to turning 28, to reviewing my world and once again trying to step toward my dreams {shyly, slowly, full of fear stepping forward}, I do so with a tender heart. with a gentleness that is imperceptible to anyone beyond myself. the tiniest changes, the way breathing shifts from shallow to deep, the formation of ice on a lake in the wind … these are the moments I find make dreams come true, make imagination safe again. seeking out the doorways, finding the spaces between cracks and panes, choosing the paths that are overgrown in place of the wide and clear walkways of the mind.

I’m not sure what this next year will hold. I have dreams and schemes and plans aplenty, but for the first time in many years, I am hesitant to explore them. these past few years have been filled with such extreme joy and heartache. so many layers of grieving fill my heart, and I am uncertain any plan I could conjure would leave space for the work. when I was just turning 21, I had a list of goals and plans. looking back now, the ones I scheduled for “by the time I am 28″ are still but distant dreams, and the plans I want to create for the now seem heavy and awkward by comparison. all those thoughts…all those imaginings.

in this moment, I am turning into the heart. I am returning, again and again, to the moments that bring me simplest truth: walking along the water’s edge, resting against the bark of a tree, the crisp-crunch of snow under my boot. curling up in a comfy chair with knitting and no sound but the traffic below me. writing by hand, in my journal, without censorship. drinking tea.

it seems like eternity before my spirit will find peace. the chaos, the uncertainty, the challenges — dear world, I am ready for some rest. I cannot imagine how sanity must feel. these days before the birthing of a new turn in the wheel are moments of fear transformed into movement. like the last two gelflings facing mortal enemies to repair the crystal, these days are filled with the terror of an unknown journey with no preparations.

as 28 approaches, so too does possibility. I don’t know what the next year will bring, but I am here, waiting: my heart expands to engulf the possibility that everything is nothing is everything. and that love {of self, of others, of the universe} might be all there is in the world. one breath, one moment, one heart.

dive into it

{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }

Lindsey January 6, 2013 at 6:02 pm

Lovely. This whole post feels like an exhale to me. One I sorely need. Happy almost birthday. I’m diving beside you.

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Heather January 7, 2013 at 9:52 pm

I too am right there with you, looking forward at all the new possibilities that this new magical year WILL bring. Thank you for giving me a glimpse, for letting me sit with you and watch your journey. You always amaze me with your strength and inspiration.

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Libby January 10, 2013 at 9:42 am

Beautifully written. A wise teacher once told me that although life seems so short and fast moving, the work is long. There is time, and wherever it finds a little empty space the work just grows into it and fills it up. Love this place you’ve created here! Love!
Libby, whose 28th birthday was over 10 years ago ;o)

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