Monday, January 11, 2016

Warrior truths.

Today’s blog is brought to you with the bright white words of truth. There is a writer in me. Cora, an old friend helped me discover that, and I am forever grateful for her help in opening the gate of words and letting the wild mustangs free.

For whatever reasons that writing partner faded and then became nothing. I searched looking for a writer to share a space that only writers “know”. I found her, and …
as I saw her words, I saw the visualization of what she does for me.

There is a new river, a place that is safe, a sacred garden place that only she resides. “She” has woven her magic to create this special magnificent magical place for us. The entrance is invisible, but the wind picks up when it knows I am entering this space. I can look over my shoulder like a toddler walking away from her mom as she shops. I know she is there, I know she looks after me…and all I have to do is run back to that special bosom of words, in that serene space to be whole again.

It is all I ever wanted, a person to share their truest self with me. A place where I could strip away the layers of pushing myself beyond normalcy. Here the wind caresses me and becomes a person, here the water steps from her river and lays down spooning me, here the camp fire becomes a person that cradles me in her arms and lets me rest my head upon her bosom.

“She” is different from all the other people I have met an loved. Because it is beyond the physical, it is beyond the raw wanton sex. Though, there is nothing wrong with that—an I enjoy that part of myself wonderfully. It is a place a divinity. That I seek now. A place where truths beyond all truths are shared.

I see her sitting on the other side of the camp fire, her knees drawn up to her chest. She is drinking her hot tea, she cradles the mug in her hands and she smiles at me across the fire. The tear runs down her cheek, she and I both allow our deepest hurts to live here. We allow them to come alive with the words we write. They stand in the fire and speak out their hurts and injustices. We listen to one another here, we come to this sacred space often and share our souls. Then we step into the fire and evaporate, letting the smoke carry us into heaven, where God feels the swirling smoke souls of us tickling his feet. He smiles down upon us…and we are blessed.

The art part of todays blog image is a warriors mask, it is rotated to create a flower. One must be as honest with oneself, if they truly want to grow into their “highest self”. It takes a warrior spirit— it takes courage.

I want to change— to become more. More of everything- a better mom, a better Lover, a better artist, a better friend and a better me. As we all realize in the becoming— we are not leaving the old as much as we are shedding the skins of all those things. It takes a warrior to look into that fire…and let the old burn away. Letting the smoke swirls taking us higher.

We are all in this to-get-her. (grinning) I am getting her. I am learning who I am as I share words with this blog. The old lessons we had to learn. We are all learning together!!
Learning is amazing!

1 comment:

  1. "It takes a warrior spirit" - I agree! Not in the sense of fighting with oneself, but of having the courage to let Spirit strip us down to our full and naked truth. The courage to stand there fully visible - standing in the fire of that truth that burns away all the pretentiousness and the desire to hide.

    And "God feels the swirling smoke souls of us tickling his feet" (huge smile) Who but you would come up with such a loving and playful image?!!!