On Gratitude, part 153

This week I was gifted with so much; through my friendships, lessons, inner evaluations, many of which drew tears.  I would like to share with you some gratitude that has made me pause this week.  

I harvested the last crop of mint from our garden

witnessed mushrooms in unexpected places

watched this thumbergia plant flower over and over again despite the calendar date.

I received this Frida Kahlo necklace as a gift from Sherry, my fellow Frida persona with who(m?) I share a reciprocal adoration  and who makes life more real for me on a day-to-day basis in so many unexplainable ways

I watched this spider catch many flies, grateful he stationed himself far *enough* from my house to enjoy observing him and his ways

Another extraordinary event that happened was that I was gifted a spot in Anne-Marie Bennett's next Soul Collage class, something that I have ached for over many, many moons and now, thanks to a very generous heart, will let me jump into with all that I can bring to it.   So whilst I thrash around in the shadows, I have been acutely aware of the ones who show up to light my way, spur me on and keep me accountable for where my feet trod on my path.  I humbly bow to all of you in thanks and gratitude for holding space for me, for loving me for who I am.  

Shadow Land

I have crawled under the flap in SouLodge for the next five weeks, or longer, judging by how long it usually takes me to go around the medicine wheel.  It is time to swim down deep in the shadows, stir up the mud, let it blind my vision and ooze between all of my bodies.  The form of my grief and shame and regret is that of a blob.  It is sticky, black, tar-like and warty with pockets of gaseous and noxious bubbles.  It covers my light, hides my smug superiorness.  It traps my capabilities, squashes my confidence that everything is going to be alright.  I blame it for all of my unhappiness, lack of confidence and lack of faith.  I refuse to take responsibility for it.  It is an aggressor and I am weak in its presence.  I succumb.  A victim to it.   It numbs me and then I judge silently in my head.  A harsher critic has never been known.

Owl came to me this week with messages of deception.  Layers to peel back, with the prize of the centre nugget of truth revealed.  Hornet and wasp have built my female warrior armour to take each one of these negatives spoken and alchemize them down to their own centre nuggets.  It is going to be a long, and very interesting, autumn.

Resilience

This morning I saw resilience here

and here

and here.

I spent the night up north, opening up the futon sofa and sleeping in front of a fire with my favourite bug.  When we woke it was -3 Celsius.  I needed to see the beauty that gritted its teeth and flowered "anyway" in spite of the temperature's grab to cut it down.  I need to take inspiration from these small, simple flowers and find my own resilience "anyway".  I need to waken that corner of my heart that believes I can flower while external influences grab at it to tamp it out.



Thank you to all who have left comments here the last while.  I have not found the words to respond to many but know that I deeply appreciate your presence and kindness.