Sunday, January 27, 2013
a new book.
Between the pages
the story, the plot
there's a pause
when the heart
holding the paper
for the turning.
The first word
of the first paragraph
of the first chapter
I can't read it yet.
My fingers know
it's not time
Friday, January 25, 2013
"The winter has barely passed. The spring has not begun...
In other words, we can't see the fruit yet,
but we are celebrating the process of growth itself.
And most of this process we can't see
because it's beneath the surface of the ground...
trees are no longer nourished by last year's waters
and begin to be nourished by the 'new' year's waters.
It is a time that is in between the winter and the spring,
not quite day or night. And when we look at the trees we are meant to think
of ourselves in that same place, between the past and our future
and opening ourselves up to more opportunities for growth
as the sap rises and the new water flows."
I haven't had much to say lately because I have been in the in-between place. After I wrote and published my last post about filling in the canvas of my future, I took a break from painting.
I've got the brush in my hand again, and I'm dipping it into paint, though I don't know yet what it is that I'm creating. I only know that I want to make it from a place of peace, a place of rest, a place of hope.
I'm the tree that Gutfruend describes. No longer nourished by last year's waters, but beginning to be nourished by the waters the new year brings.
Last year, I chose a word for the year to guide me, to remind me of what I needed to focus on, of how I needed to position myself during a time of daunting change. STAND served me well. I needed a strong directive to carry me through a season of fighting to find myself again. It's a word I will carry with me always.
STAND came to me; I didn't have to go searching for it. But this year's word has not been so. It's a word I've had to wait for, to dig around a bit to find.
I feel like I lost my way recently and I've been groping around in the dark, waiting for a light to appear. But one thing has remained clear. In the midst of uncertainty, this I know: when the light is dim and the future is unclear, I must be kind to myself. Love always brings me home.
I posted a note on the inspiration board above my desk to remind of this. I've seen it daily and it has helped me to recalibrate and refocus on what's important.
It reminds me that every day I must do something to nurture the deep parts of myself. Nothing complicated, nothing time consuming, but something that leaves me feeling full. It's been up on my board for several weeks now, but it didn't occur to me until today that it contains the word I need to guide me this year: Nourish.
Every time I look up at my board and see it there, I feel awash with a sense of hope and anticipation. When I accept its invitation, I feel invigorated, and I've been taking bolder steps into my future because of it.
So while my tree isn't yet in bloom, and my branches are still naked of their leaves, I am going to Nourish myself. Last year's waters can't feed me anymore, so I'm letting my roots go deeper into the soil to drink up the new. The sap is rising and new water is beginning to flow.
Have you chosen a word for the year? Care to share?