I'm not quite solid at the moment, a weak transmission caught between worlds.
I find most of me materializing upon this great mountain, the warmth of the sun filling the spaces between created by my fluid state.
There is no pressure to materialize fully.
There is a slowness. There is a feeling of well-being.
Childhood memories waft through my consciousness, creating subtle texture to this moment, as if time just wraps its arms around itself in a tender and knowing embrace. As if this is the heart of creation.
The memory is of waking at my grandmother's, just before dawn. Cool mountain air caressing my cheeks, and my body relishing the warmth under the gentle pressure of layers of blankets. My ear tunes to the sounds of a river, just yards away from my grandmother's house, carving its watery highway down the lush valley of the swans.
There is a knowing that sunrise is imminent, and that very soon my grandmother will be stirring.
My eyes close themselves as I sink back into the magical kind of sleep that only morning can bring, a sweet smile across my lips. The next time I open my eyes, I will hear the bustling of my grandmother's footsteps. There will be the the rich scents and sounds of breakfast crackling on the stove.
I'll rest there snug in my bed, and take it all in, yielding to the tuggings from my body for a strech or two, as it endeavors to come slowly back to life.
And when I finally pull the covers away and climb out of bed and make my way into the kitchen, I will receive a giant good morning hug, squeezing out the sleepiness of my eyes and limbs.
No where to go. Nothing I must do. A world all my own. Loved just for being, just for showing up.
Somehow my grandmother embodies this deep unconditional allowing. Somehow this memory would like to transpose itself across my journey. A secure sense of sweet perfection, with no prerequisites.
My eyes are closed as the rich counterpoint comes to a close. I am humbled by the rich texture of harmonies created by such tender melodies juxtaposed in just the right places.
There is still the warmth of the sun in the spaces between, but with subtle buzzing movement, a kind of fire underneath--the kind that pops pocorn, sends a rocket into space, and births a universe.
The Soul is diving back in, seeking out where it would go, and what it would show me-- just in case I was curious.
I find most of me materializing upon this great mountain, the warmth of the sun filling the spaces between created by my fluid state.
There is no pressure to materialize fully.
There is a slowness. There is a feeling of well-being.
Childhood memories waft through my consciousness, creating subtle texture to this moment, as if time just wraps its arms around itself in a tender and knowing embrace. As if this is the heart of creation.
The memory is of waking at my grandmother's, just before dawn. Cool mountain air caressing my cheeks, and my body relishing the warmth under the gentle pressure of layers of blankets. My ear tunes to the sounds of a river, just yards away from my grandmother's house, carving its watery highway down the lush valley of the swans.
There is a knowing that sunrise is imminent, and that very soon my grandmother will be stirring.
My eyes close themselves as I sink back into the magical kind of sleep that only morning can bring, a sweet smile across my lips. The next time I open my eyes, I will hear the bustling of my grandmother's footsteps. There will be the the rich scents and sounds of breakfast crackling on the stove.
I'll rest there snug in my bed, and take it all in, yielding to the tuggings from my body for a strech or two, as it endeavors to come slowly back to life.
And when I finally pull the covers away and climb out of bed and make my way into the kitchen, I will receive a giant good morning hug, squeezing out the sleepiness of my eyes and limbs.
No where to go. Nothing I must do. A world all my own. Loved just for being, just for showing up.
Somehow my grandmother embodies this deep unconditional allowing. Somehow this memory would like to transpose itself across my journey. A secure sense of sweet perfection, with no prerequisites.
My eyes are closed as the rich counterpoint comes to a close. I am humbled by the rich texture of harmonies created by such tender melodies juxtaposed in just the right places.
There is still the warmth of the sun in the spaces between, but with subtle buzzing movement, a kind of fire underneath--the kind that pops pocorn, sends a rocket into space, and births a universe.
The Soul is diving back in, seeking out where it would go, and what it would show me-- just in case I was curious.
I'm winking, my friend. Feeling the no prerequisite, perfect warmth of it all. Deep, unconditional allowing...ahhh, feels so good.
ReplyDeleteJust in case you were curious... thank you Brooke. I am most curious about this new exploration that you are undertaking.
ReplyDeleteI LOVE your blog background, too! It's amazing!
xxx
The adventure begins...such a beautiful memory, so beautifull described!!!
ReplyDeleteI felt like I was right there with you and that is saying a lot, since I grew up there...I must say the energy was so different. Thank you for showing it from such a gentle and loving perspective.
Can't wait for more!!!
"There is no pressure to materialize fully."
ReplyDeleteSuddenly, my morning took on a new light when I read that line.
I'm grateful I'm here reading in this space. Thank you, Brooke!
Here's to beautiful beginnings!
How beautiful to begin in Eden. I can just feel the sweet weight of those quilts!
ReplyDelete...a wink and a smile. Beautifully written, lovely thoughts. Makes one feel warm and fuzzy, kinda like what Heaven ought to be like. Love Dad
ReplyDeleteHey soul sista,
ReplyDeleteReading your writing is like being a part of something bigger than myself. Everything is unfolding perfectly.
Love Nige