Saturday, November 7, 2009
Do you believe in inspired writing? Has it ever happened to you? A wave of insights, images, or thoughts so profound you must stop at once, grab a pen, and paper in hopes to capture it before it's gone. *Poof* The words come like waves, and images, in an audible voice inside your head that is your voice but is not your voice. The urge resonates deep within your soul, and you know it is a message, an encouragement, a truth you need to hear and serves as a road map of where you've been or where you need to go.
I've had this happen to me many times, especially with song writing, or when my heart was seeking solace, answers, or peace. It happened yesterday after I read all of your loving comments, emails and posts on Facebook about my post, "Crashing Into Me." I was overwhelmed, in a good way, by your love, support, and caring. I started crying, the good kind of crying that cleanses a heart. I could not hold back the flood of tears that covered my cheeks in a wet, warm shower of tender, healing kisses.
I got up to get a tissue and looked outside the kitchen window. There had been a heavy frost the night before, and the sun had just poked her smiling face up over the Lily Pad. I saw a patch of grass that had been thawed by the morning light. It was nestled between long fingers of frost still clutching the hillside like a vice, and instantly saw it as a parallel to my brain, my trauma, and what it feels like being buried under layers of PTSD.
Below is what came to me in a flood, and a flurry, of handwritten words that took less than 5 minutes to compose in one of my art journals. I am sharing it with you with no editing---for when it comes from the Universe, God, your Higher Power or whatever you choose to call it--it needs no editing. It is what it is---just as it is.
"This morning the earth, the grass, the fallen leaves were covered in frost--icy white and sparkling--a blanket of frigid stars that cover life, the former warmth of summer now gone. Soon the sun peeked up behind the trees that line my sky, like soldiers with no place to go except to guard the hilltop, and shade the yard.
As the sun crawled through a break in the trees she laughed at the frost and the frost ran away. Dewy green patches came alive like Easter grass. Her arms had not yet reached all the shadows or shaded areas--but she wasn't worried or hurried. She knows her power and is not afraid of doing too little or too much at once. She waits for the birds to sing a song of joy as they flit and fly in her warmth.
My eyes grabbed a hold of this splendid moment as a recognition--a validation--a metaphor. Part of my brain is sleeping under a frost covered grave. It doesn't know the sunshine, "the truth", is nearby--shining like a torch to break up and melt the lies. The fears. The scary places that so desperately need some truth, some love, some understanding, some forgiveness, some kindness, some affirmations, some holding, cuddling--saying it's OK. It has been cold, and it has been so very lonely.
Crevices fill up with debris--sometimes they need a howling wind to stir them--awaken them to the need to be free of the leftovers life deposited in their gullets. In the trees a crow caws and scoffs at the sun--preferring the frosty places. It's a scavenger, waiting.
But the sun--my heart, my soul, my rope to the heavens--just keeps climbing over the shadows. The clock is in motion and nothing can stop the spinning wheels of renewed life except God or the Universe her/himself. How lovely, and fresh, and baby green is the grass (all the places I buried my fears) when they've been shown the light.
Oh sunshine--come in. I welcome you. I need you. I've been cold for far too long. This little bird is going to fly! No frosty fingers will hold me down, away from a sunshine sky."