Opportunities to write manifesting themselves all around.
Hand written letters. When is the last time you received a hand written letter? I don’t remember either. I want to change that. My grandmother should receive her letter soon.
There is something personal in the writing of a letter. It feels like the same difference as journal and blog. Letters, closer to journals, written on the pages of journals.
Writing, always writing.
Fickle mood. Feisty. Cagey. Combative.
90 items added to list of things I’m grateful for. Appreciation elevating the moods.
Softening. Allowing. Smiling.
Seeking the beauty. See it everywhere.
2016, for me, was the year of the warrior. Everywhere I turned warrior appeared. I listened to the message. I saw the signs. I took the steps towards the light that streams through the battles, promising hope. Inspiring freedom.
The path of the warrior continues in 2017. My weapon will be love. My protection will be love. 2017 is, for me, the year of love.
Love is so many things and also not any one thing. The faces of love are varied. The path of the warrior will be a quest of finding love. Love for myself. Love for life. Love for and in the present moment.
2017 is the year of love. Join me?
I write. A lot.
It is my life’s work that will likely not be shared with anyone until I leave this body. That’s ok. Better. Safer.
Over the years, I have shared bits and pieces. Small bits. Tiny pieces. Hand chosen by me. Pointed out and shared with an anxiety that should have kept me from sharing at all. This is my soul. These are my thoughts. This is me on paper. Read this part, right there and then kindly hand me my book back.
Even I don’t read it all. When I do sit down to know myself through the lense of past thoughts, I’m generally horrified. I think like that? I act like that? I talk like that?
Yes, yes I do.
That view of myself has spurred me to change my life by changing my thoughts more than once. Today, as I read from two and a half years ago, I learn a new lesson.
It is possible to spend too much time digging through the muck. I have been allowing distraction from action with busy work. While relevant and necessary, I have taken it too far. I am using the digging as a path to avoid action.
Oh Journal, lesson heard and thank you.
Warrior. Appearing again and again.
An invitation to greatness. An acceptance of greatness that already is, always was and will never cease to be.
The theme emerges. I seek it out and it finds me. Information on the archetype swimming into my awareness from unexpected places.
I will answer the call that keeps coming. I stand strong in the power of warrior strength. The ancient part of myself answering the beating drums. A beat issuing a call to action. I hear it. I see it. I feel it.
I am a warrior.
You just want to take a bath. In your head, it’s a lovely candlelit and perfectly set up bath. The aroma of the products you have on hand for these bath awakens your senses and you exhale as you settle into the water which is the exact right level of hot. It’s delightful.
It sounds wonderful.
It’s not always like that. Sometimes the bathroom smells like cat piss. Sometimes you can’t find the stopper. Sometimes the faucet seems to have finally taken its last turn and even your go to trick move isn’t getting it back and place and doing its job. Sometimes you have some hurdles to relaxation, do it anyway.
You need it. You clean up cat piss.
Today feels like hope.
Today feels big.
Today is a day of release.
I am living my truth. Tears streaming down my face kind of truth. Terrifying kind of truth. Liberating kind of truth.
Today, I let it out. Today I gave it words. Today. The right day for that which will never be the right time.
Today, I live.