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Soul Homecoming: Feel

What a trip, to have arrived here, to have been welcomed so warmly, to have traveled far and wide with my Soul, only to experience intense seismic activity in my outer life--the one where I play a single mom to two little girls, where I am seeker, friend, daughter, ex-wife, and completely oblivious in moments that I don't have to see red.

Truth be told, it was hard to come to a screeching halt after riding a Road Wildly for so long. The bumps and wild turns were becoming habit. 

And the most intense struggle ensued--hanging on for dear life to the mane of a wild steed, fully intent on bucking me off! 

In perpetual earthquake mode, in the land of me, I have had some of the most intensely beautiful and dark moments I've ever experienced. Mostly there has been the powerful sensation of being torn in half, as two clear choices have been presented to me simultaneously in each and every moment. (Something thorough about getting real with the heart of things).

Do I want outer conflict or inner peace?

Do I want to keep my personal victim story, or do I want to let it go? Seems as though there was no crossing the threshold until I made a clear choice. 

And for perhaps the first time in my life, I have had to get clear, and to be decisive all by myself! No running my decision by anyone for permission, no external kick in the pants to help soften the blow of me taking all the responsibility, no more hesitating in a space straddling sunrise and outer darkness.

And with every fiber of my being, I've chosen inner peace. I've chosen that only love is real.

I've never made the decision in favor of inner peace from such a clear place. 

My mind has kicked and screamed. It has tried to convince me that I really am not invested at all in life, period. I've experienced major shut down, only to be powered up again. And I can guarantee that the little me had no part in generating the electrical currents to bring me back to life.

But little me knows I'm going anyway.  I've asked it just to ride with me. I've told it that it might enjoy the journey, but that we are going whether it likes it or not, and that we'll get there when we get there. We are embracing living.

This place bids me be still. This place bids that I call forth patience, that I call forth faith, that I call forth true presence. That I truly let go.

And the choice is finally clear in my heart.

I finally recognize that darkness cannot touch me, and that it never has. It has only ever come in waves, and now those waves have been exposed for what they've always been--part of the game, part of the way back home--part of the discomfort that would herald me to light a flame, bringing me back to life and to the living. But they do not define me.

Right here, in this moment, my heart bids that I stay with the shining rays of the sun. Stay with them, just a little bit longer, longer, longer--that I hang in there while the waves of darkness caress me, but that I rest in faith that they will not overtake me.

Really, I am in awe. It really was no accident to have landed here. It was time. It was time to get off the road, to nurture stillness.

Time to stand still in one place long enough to feel what wants to be created from the depths of a timeless and ancient story written in the fabric of my being, ready to bring me home.

I stand still.

I return to whatever medium created me, be it rich strokes of paint, the sensual pressing and molding of clay-- or perhaps my heart's first choice-- to stand as a block of wood, or a block of marble-- to hold the immeasurable amount of faith, the unyielding amount of surrender needed, to allow a choice Hand to chip away in just the right places-- to trust in the potential of what looks like rough edges or asymmetry.

To close your eyes and call forth patience, to feel into a greater knowing, that there is a divine method underway, and that in time, it will all come together.

I let the world fall away. I let this knowing flow through me, animating this body, this experience.

I stand here still. I stand here patient. I stand here in good hands.


  1. My little words cannot really express how it feels to read this post. I stand here moved. I stand here deeply grateful for your work, for you.

  2. Ditto what Carie said.

    Amen to it all.


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