Writing my heart for all of you. I miss just flowing with my fingers and allowing my spirit to use me as a vehicle for the words from my heart. God keeps whispering to me, to write again in this way. I will never have something without a heartbeat to form my words for me. This is pure from my human, with my own hands that have blood running through them forming my words with my heartbeat. I am noticing the changes of my body, the aging in my hands slowly and the wrinkles starting to slowly form. I catch myself tapping my forehead or rubbing the wrinkle out. Laughter just came out of my voice. A laugh through my own connection with my spirit writing, what a gift that is.
I just turned 35 and have faced a lot of lost already. My father passed away and my two best friends. I witnessed and lived through a hurricane that took my home away. Here I am hearing the roosters, and the birds sing their songs. The sea breeze coming through my window, moving the pieces of my hair around my face. I am home always in myself but home now in Hawaii. What a gift from God but what a ceremony to get here. When you experience grief deeply, you realize this journey is not about having more it’s about coming home to your peace. A place where you can rest and be present with your own tempo of your breath. The stroke of a paint brush not knowing where it is going just like these words. A strum of the guitar that eases my human emotions that connects me deeply to the present with my human and heart. God lives in those moments, when you’re present in the now you notice a little tiny butterfly that passes you by. I would not notice those things before in my younger years. God and devotion to myself has been the gift.
When we nourish our inner garden the fruit of everyone starts to flourish around you. The pulse of peace that I carry is the gift to the world. God reminded me that in a deep prayer. I miss this flow of not knowing where it is going to go. I was walking my pup and God said, “Write and just share your prayers for a while.” That is who you are a walking prayer for the world.” It is almost golden hour, and I see the yellow shinning on all the green of the plants and trees outside my window. The clouds are just perfect where there is still the blue the sky. I always think God is the sky. I sometimes say father sky. Then I look at all the blooms and think of the holy mother that pulses the holy spirit through every branch and every bloom. As the mother breathes, we are breathing.
I have come home deeper to Jesus the deepest I ever have. He is teaching me through my temple. I will never call myself a religion. He whispered to me the other day,” Your heart is my heart, and my spirit is wrapped up in your spirit.” It made me shed tears down to the center of my heart. Feeling the waters of my own soul brings ease to my body. We have all fallen for the systems that keep us out of our own presence and heart.
When was the last time you noticed a small butterfly?
When was the last time you looked at the clouds and notice the shapes of creation?
When was the last time that you simply just paused and placed your own hand on your heart, to say thank you not only to God but you?
I feel lighter and closer to my true essence of the writer that I am. Life is super sweet and sometimes a little sour. We cannot avoid the sour of life but give thanks to all our senses to taste it all. What a gift to simply be human and close to God. The sweetness of life always comes back.
Unravel2You 