As the warmth slips away towards the equator, and the grass stings my bare feet on mornings I make time for the shower, I am letting go of helplessness.
It's a growing up, this taking charge. Knowing that each moment is a choice, and choosing strength and presence over a five-year-old whine, a fear of reality, and a place of being stuck.
With the tinge of orange creeping into the maples, and the red poison ivy fluttering into the road, insisting that I pay attention to my step, I make room for a new season of commitment. I intend to be here each Saturday. I intend to make my choices more consciously. I intend to let go of the victim haunting me, urge her to step aside as a fuller, stronger self rises to the surface.
I am sorry for neglecting this blog while the summer slipped by so effortlessly.
(I would rather you not apologize for what you have done to me, says Anthony DeMello. I would rather you tell me that you have changed, that you have become awake.)
It's a time of change, autumn, isn't it, even more than spring perhaps? Don't forget to notice its presence, before the cold settles in for the long haul. Boost your stores of self-worth, intention and strength, as you fill your shelves with lacto-ferments and sacks of grain.
Those are my thoughts, as I let go of the summer session of Literary Traces. See you on the flip side.
No comments:
Post a Comment