When did scarcity roll over you, wilting you timid and fearful?
What darkened childhood tale shadowed your lightness and spirit, giving away your bold?
Who changed you so short that your worth became socially outsourced to the new and unknown?
When the sun rises it reminds us with furious beauty that moments are spectacular. Well thought plans, penned goals and shiny thoughts trivial pursuits of those who will never grow.
The rain that drenched you with indignation, coming unannounced on a summer day? The universes way of tapping you awake to all you never will control.
What happened between the first moments your eyes opened to the universe to where you stand today? Unable to muster the courage to stutter the words your heart desires, I miss you, I love you, please don’t go.
Our heart and our soul intuitively tells us when we are home.
An unspoken settled place is our being, a warmth, a person who undoubtedly many lifetimes we have known.
Tell me, when did scarcity roll over you?
Leaving you all alone.
Placed before me, moments
Greeting each with gratitude
Even the uncomfortable and unknown
Inhaling, a note is left to seed
Exhaling, a note is left to seed
Growing the same message; now is joy
My heart is my only home
It is full of sunshine and abundant bloom
My mind simply there to gently remind me to always go back to where I belong
This morning resting in myself
Love called me back home
A good book
The scent of morning coffee
Silence in my space, a peace I love and know
Meditation with my chest pulled back, reminding me to keep my heart fully open
Clarity of the heart in mindful simplicity
Expanding and contracting my soul, felt deeply in my bones
Breathing in to my core, settled in who and what I feel and know
The sound of the leaves rustling in the breeze and the early morning giggles of my little boy
Sitting in love on Sunday morning
The simple picture of my life and the seeds I have tenderly sown
I have learned
Many will knock on your outer door
Invite in only those of good character
Your soul is your home, not all need to be welcomed to walk on your floor
My table feeds a bounty of goodness and kind but seats a chosen few
My company, my chosen story, only pure hearts bind me whole and new
Lack of values tossed with miss guided intentions always seem to fall disappointingly short
When people arrive with anything less than authentic, relationships are neither genuine nor true
I have learned to sit in quiet in the middle of my night
To feel uncomfortable dark and my effervescent light
In my dustiest times when I hear that metaphorical knock on the door of life
Intuition speaks of who needs to keep walking and comes with strife
I honor my home and yours alike, welcoming in only those who respect space with trusted care
My heart is precious, only love lives there
My purpose in life is not to fill yours
I didn’t accept an invitation at birth to sit in your empty spaces and listen to you rust and groan
The path you take, yours alone
I did not sign up by simply being born
Swallow the air you breathe, expand and contract with gentle flow or selfish anger as you must
Leave me be while I tend to my own
The discomfort you feel
Keep it off my shoulders and pack it away as you please
I wasn’t put on this Earth to spiritually flat line while being continually cut off at the knees
The house you built is not my home
I have shown up time and again, open and free, full of love
Intentions of hope
By my own rope
As the winter air bit at her cheeks in her forest of thoughts
Her heart weighted, indulging in sadness
A past heavy in disappointment
Her future never arriving between blinks
She gave herself permission
Close the gap of your expectations now
Family looks as it feels
Not what was fictionally written
Home is not made of carefully placed cushions or well-appointed rugs
She was not “them”, “she” or “her”
She was “I “
“I” knew happiness was to be felt, not chased
“I” felt love for people, not things
“I” knew time was welth, not income
“I” gave permission
To let “them” be the holder of expectations
“I” will live a beautiful life