Most days when I sit down to write, I ask myself, what does my soul want to say today? Inevitably a story will come to mind. Or I’ll remember a picture I’ve taken or a poem I’ve loved. Today is strange because what my soul wants to say is a feeling in my chest. And it’s in no hurry to elaborate.
I sit quietly, waiting. Until I want to just get on with it and so I ask again, what does my soul want to say today? Same answer. No surprise there. But I’m ready to move this show forward so I allow my mind to chime in and the thinking starts. Thinking in all sorts of directions. Unhelpful directions. I’m a great over-thinker. I reign my brain back in.
What is this feeling in my chest, anyhow? I am accustomed to many feelings in my chest: tightness, heaviness, dread, ache. Sometimes when I’m in the presence of beauty I’ll feel like my heart is broken wide open and I have a sense of expansion, like there is room for the entire universe in me.
Energetically speaking, the energy at our hearts is the energy of balance, growth, transformation. It’s where we hold the energy of our relationships and boundaries, deciding what to allow in and what to send away. Speaking from a frequency standpoint, this is all very green energy.
Something Is Brewing
Today, I feel as if there is a great stirring happening in the cauldron of my heart. Something is brewing. It is strange and swirly. A little uncomfortable and very curious. I don’t have a set of directions to know what to do next, or a recipe to follow – add a pinch of this, a sprig of that. Allow to simmer for 3 hours.
This could be a wait and see type of feeling. A not-solveable-right-now feeling. A flow-through-my-day-and-allow type of feeling.
This is my mysterious body giving me a heads-up to make some extra space today. To pay attention. Nudging me in the direction of less doing and more being. Like, quietly, with wonder, watching a sunrise or a sunset. What could be rising in me? What could be setting?
This story hasn’t been told yet. It needs some time.
A Little Miracle
I saw a cicada molt one time. Way back in a darker period of my life. Cicadas are weird big loud buzzing bugs that hatch roughly every 15 years or so. These were my Minnesota days when all sorts of things were swirling in me all the time. Light was difficult to come by. Unlike now, in my all things new adventure where there is much kindness and even greater love.
But back to the molting. This little buddy literally crawled out of his skin and it was a miracle. And it took some time.
I’d like to leave you with a poem I wrote back then to mark the moment:
I saw a cicada one time Struggle from his ugly Brown skin. From a Crack down the center he Entered the world bright green And glossy moist with life It made me ponder where I am in my own cycle of Life. For all the living I Hope I have in me. He came out perfect, Except for the little Nubs I mistook for Malformed legs. There is plenty deformed In me. Oh for a chance To be green again. And then those awkward Stubs uncurled – Into wings of the most Magnificent and fragile sort. If only some voice Could call me out. Already I am split down The center. Me with the Crippled nubs and brown Cracky skin. There was some stumbling And then he flew! If you are uncertain of how you feel or what’s transpiring in you, or if you are good at waiting and seeing, or you just want to get on with it, let’s be friends. Let’s fly~
