Saturday, February 24, 2007
I wouldn’t dare dream of turning up here on a Saturday morning to say I had writer’s block. My assistant editor, Anna, would throw Maltesers at me. Actually, no, she’d eat the Maltesers and stick pins in my editor’s photo instead. You see, it wasn’t that long ago I gave her a hard time about ‘no such thing as writer’s block’. I’ve said this to various writers of TM when a due date looms, or as more often the case, then passes, and no words of wisdom have arrived in my inbox. "Just write" is what they tend to hear from me rather than understanding words of compassion and comfort. They might even imagine the sound of a whip cracking too.
Usually by Friday night an idea has taken seed in my head for writing about on Saturday morning. Yet here I am this morning and feeling somewhat uninspired. It’s not as if nothing’s happening in our life… The truth is our whole family is sitting on the crest of a major life change, but I’d rather write about it next Saturday when I’ve had some time to reflect.
I’ve also been doing rather a lot of writing lately and have written a book which is just about ready for pruning with my editorial shears. Snip, snip, snip. Editing your own work makes the process of writing seem like a piece of chocolate cake!
With The Mother magazine now bi-monthly I’m more confused than ever! People will often say “Oh, I love so and so’s article in the current issue” and I scratch my head because the ‘current’ issue to ME isn’t the one they’re reading, but the one I’m working on…Well, right now there is one just leaving the printers and it is NOT the one I’m working on, nor is the one our subscribers are currently reading. Talk about a mind-juggle! I have the next four colour covers in front of me and I find it astonishing how the ‘same’ magazine takes on a unique identity with each issue depending on the tone and texture of the articles, and the photography and artwork used. This is such a position of honour, being entrusted with the words and images of others.
Much like my theory that the best way around a problem is through it, so too is the approach of conquering writer’s block. Imagine it like a child’s toy block with letters on each side. Reduce the image in your mind until it becomes the size of a pin head, then finally invisible. Stamp on the spot where it was… and then get writing.
There are many approaches to writing. Some people do the slow and steady measuring-each-word like grains of sand through an hour glass. They feel them, hear them, taste them… and then, like Security Guards, dare to let them onto the page after they’ve bodily searched them from top to bottom. And verified their passport! This works for them. Personally, I’d find it agonising.
I need to get the words out of my head as quickly as they form. They bubble up like a spring and the incessant chatter needs to be channelled out, rather than artificially forced to go on simmer and then strained before consumption. The post-mortem on word quality and writing style can come later. The essence of the message has to be expressed without the strangulating tones of perfection changing its emerging shape. I'm so grateful to be able to type as quickly as I think. I now find it agonising to write anything other than a shopping list by hand.
One thing I am learning after five years of editing The Mother (our 5th anniversary this month! Note to self: find someone to celebrate with…) is not to be so precious about my words. My last editorial (as in the one coming through your door shortly) was, in fact, the third editorial I wrote for that issue. It wasn’t that I was unhappy with the previous two topics, it was simply that my mood changed. It is actually quite liberating to ‘scrap’ a whole page of writing with the delete button and to start again. For me it captures the essence of abundance; the knowledge that there are in infinite number of words and equally, no limit to the number of times we can weave our stories. If we fear writer’s block, if we actually give it power, we end up creating a whole set of blocks!
I’ve read a LOT of birth stories in this past half decade, and the one thing that always strikes me about this incredible experience of bringing our babies into the world, is how few women can sum up the experience in 1000 words. What tends to happen though, is rather than reaching into the core of how their baby’s birthing day impacted on them, we tend to hear lots of irrelevant information. The birth story becomes a narration of what was happening around the mother (midwife eating sandwich, midwife looking at clock, mother-in-law tapping the table) rather than what she was feeling, thinking, experiencing. And it strikes me that this isn’t so much about whether or not someone is a gifted writer, but the very nature of our society being about ‘external influences’. We’re simply not encouraged to look within, to search for the meaningful experiences and savour the rich moments of our lives. When the very motto of our culture is ‘acquisition’, then unless we turn our back on unnecessary consumption, we’ll find it a challenge to remember and really KNOW that less is more.
There are so many ‘external’ images and ideas that can be used to overcome writer’s block, but the essence of the message has to come from within us. That feeling of “I can’t write” should be interpreted as “I haven’t gone within”.
And to truly enjoy life we have to go within, deep within, or we risk a superficial, un-sustaining existence.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Saturday Cuppa: Blackberry and nettle tea
Love is like playing the piano.
First you must learn to play by the rules,
then you must forget the rules
and play from your heart.
Bethany received a Valentine’s card this week from a male friend…
After doing her initial squeal of delight, shock and total joy she kept asking why he sent her one given that a few years ago when she sent him one he was NOT happy. “Ah, honey, that’s boys for ya!” I didn’t remind her that at the time her declarations of undying love were probably not really what he wanted to hear…
Watched a great dvd this week called The Secret. If you’re new to the Law of Attraction, or simply want a great reminder that we each create our reality by the thoughts we think (that we truly are magnetic), then try and get hold of a copy for yourself.
I spent yesterday afternoon with an artist friend. She’s so talented ~ painting, drawing, sculpting, anything arty, she can do it, and do it brilliantly! She never believes me when I tell her how amazing her work is. I say work, but she doesn’t do it professionally, and barely lets it out of the cupboard as a hobby.
Her husband shakes his head in disbelief too. How can she not see the talent?
She’s choosing to stay safe, rather than risk ‘failure’, and in doing so misses the chance to completely blossom. To live her truth.
About five or so years ago I came across Julia Cameron’s book, The Artist’s Way. It is designed for anyone wishing to ‘heal’ and recover their inner artist whether that art be of writing, weaving, knitting, photography, dancing, pottery, drawing, sculpting… art is about creativity and manifests in so many ways. It might even be in the way you design your home and arrange your furniture and belongings.
Both Paul and I found it incredibly transforming and it is fair to say The Mother magazine was a result of that ‘recovery’ for me. I also discovered a love of writing lyrics. Essentially the exercises strip away at false beliefs and allow us to move forward.
The course is designed to be done over 12 weeks. Paul got to about week ten and became too busy to continue because his singing took off professionally.
How often do we sabotage success because we fear failure? And what’s failure anyway? One person’s failure is another person’s success. What I have considered in my life to be a failure had others raising their glasses with complete appreciation. One of the things I considered to be a great success in my life went unnoticed by a close friend for about two years before the light finally went on and she said, “That was really a big deal for you, wasn’t it?”
My ten year old daughter Bethany has more artistic skill than I do. She’s always had an eye for detail. I can see pictures in my head, but transferring them from my brain, through my arm, and onto paper…well, it just doesn’t happen! Bethany has just learnt how to draw cartoons this past week and I’m amazed at how quickly she’s got the hang of cartooning.
My artist friend hides her talent in the cupboard and I’m desperate to shine a light there. Gifts aren’t meant to be hidden, but shared with the world.
We’re both celebrating our 40th birthdays this year ~ a time in our lives when the insecurities of childhood should be well and truly gone. A time when we stand in our true power, ready to embrace the world and display our talents. Will we or won’t we? Have we been so brainwashed by messages in childhood that we ‘weren’t good enough’ that we’ll not dare to risk?
In astrological terms, we’re both in the years described as the Midlife Crisis. They are the “shock ‘em, roll ‘em and shake ‘em” years. (It used to happen a bit later in people’s lives but hits most people now between about 36 and 44 ~ can’t remember which planets have made it so…) The planets don’t control our life as such, what they do is provide specific ‘energy’ to have us looking at particular issues which, if addressed rather than denied, allow the layers of false conditioning to drop away.
It’s a time of immense change. It hits everyone. We can’t escape it, but we can use the cosmic energies which pull and tug at our life to become more of Who We Are...to let go of inhibitions, to finally say ‘hey, this is me, this is why I’m here, and I love the dance of my life!”
It’s called waking up to our authenticity. Crisis happens only when we resist change. Of course, the midlife crisis wears different clothes for different people. It may appear in the areas of love, public life, career, hobbies, health, law, identity, friendships, communities, sexuality, affairs, children, spirituality, family, siblings/peers, money. It may be more inner change than outer change, sometimes so subtle that it isn’t even perceptible, but there’s no escaping from it. The sole (soul) purpose of this time is a second chance to make your dreams from childhood come true.
Bethany felt fear big-time yesterday (explained fully in a blog about a week or two from now) as a step towards a dream she has had for a little while. I explained the idea of ‘feel the fear and do it anyway’. I have my own fears around the situation she’s going into and when I was talking to Paul about it he said that he tends to ‘mentally shelve’ such fears, whereas I fall into mine (surrender/embrace) and march in whatever direction I deem to be the appropriate way. The best way around a problem (or fear) is THROUGH it… [best to take a crash helmet though!]
A friend of ours read the book Feel the fear and do it anyway, by Susan Jeffers, several years back, and asked my husband, “Did Veronika write that book?” It made me laugh because I could have written the book! Even as a young child I’d just step right into the fear and realise ‘hey, this isn’t as bad as I thought it would be’. So things like public speaking, which have most people running a mile, I discovered right from about the age of eight weren’t so scary once you just got on and did it. I loved getting up in front of the whole school (about 300 kids) and reading out notices, sports results, etc. As a result, I rarely get nervous. And of course the more you practise stepping into fear the better you get at taking the first step. It’s that first step which is always the hardest.
About twenty years ago I did a fire-walking evening. It was fantastic. I’d be lying to say that I wasn’t scared. But you know what convinced me to walk over burning coals? Seeing a five year old girl dancing on them! I just KNEW that if she could do it, then I had no excuse. It was one of the most empowering experiences of my life. I repeated the experience a couple of years later just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke!
My guiding question when stepping into the unknown is “what’s the worst that can happen?” and things really are never that bad, are they?
Humans are such incredible creatures. We’re so powerful, capable of so much. So much good, so much evil. It’s all a choice. And so it is with letting our light shine; stepping into our power. We have to CHOOSE to do so.
I stand in awe of my artist friend, that she is so gifted. And then I get so darn frustrated that she’s not making the most of this talent. I experience a similar frustration with my beloved, a very talented entertainer (formerly a professional singer, actor, radio presenter, voice-over artist, ventriloquist). His answer is ‘I’ve had my career’.
My attitude is ‘you’re 58, you’re not dead. There’s a big difference.’ I do see his point, but I sense it isn’t to do with what he’s had, but where he’s scared he might go if he overcame his fear. And what does he fear? Probably the same as most of us. That he might get rejected, might not be considered ‘good enough’. But I wonder, if we dig deeper, is our fear really more about what would happen if we succeeded? What would happen if we lived to our full potential? Where would it take us? What life changes might happen? What are we scared of losing in the process?
And me? I’m all drive and no talent. Except… Except somewhere within must be a talent of some sort because we’ve all been gifted. Each of us possesses the spark of the Divine, and such a Creative Intelligence lingers within our very being.
I’ve always been the proverbial jack of all trades, master of none. I’ve a CV as wide as the Mississippi … Me and my lusty appetite for change, variety, experience has meant that I have a deep need for seeing new sights. I can tell you, it makes life very interesting, but it holds no appeal for employers. But guess what? I don’t care! I wouldn’t write up my CV for anyone these days. There’s only one person I need to please and that’s me. I’m here to live, not to conform.
This is my year for pushing my self to find the inner gem, the jewel which is hidden amongst the rubble of inadequate self-worth. I remember distinctly when I was seven, looking across at the drawings of Colin, a boy next to me in class, and being stunned by how well he could draw. I am sure it was the moment I *decided* that I couldn’t draw…And guess what? I couldn’t draw to save myself. I embarrass stick figures with my appalling attempts to put a few lines together.
For now, my artist friend is my mirror. She’s showing me what our life looks like when we deny our majesty, when we don’t step up to the plate and wear the crown. Instead of shaking her and saying ‘look at you, look at what you can do, look at what you can be’, I need to say it to myself… I need to recognise what the ‘button-pressing’ is all about and to stop looking at the mirror and look within.
I love Nelson Mandela’s famous speech, written by one of my favourite writers, Marianne Williamson ( a teacher of A Course in Miracles).
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
This is the sort of powerful message that we should imprint into our minds. Something to stick on the fridge or by the loo ~ wherever you go to regularly (no pun intended) and will read daily. For we change our lives immeasurably be recognising the truths contained within. No longer will we be prepared to shrink back…
So silly really, when there’s room enough for all of us to play Kings and Queens, to go on playing servant to someone else’s dreams.
And you? What about you? Are you living to your fullest potential or sitting on idle?
Put on your dancing shoes syster (and bro!), slip on that crown, and live life for all it’s worth. If I can, ANYONE can!
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Saturday Cuppa: Raspberry Leaf Tea ~ tighten up that uterus grrrrrrrlfriends!
This week’s blog courtesy of our dining table.
“They say walls have ears, well, I’d rather be a dining table any day. We tables get to be part of the action, rather than being mere onlookers and holders of secrets.
In my early life I lived in Bluebell, a beautiful bookshop in the heart of Penrith. Here I saw people searching for their dreams, satisfying their hobbies and searching for answers.
A few years ago I was given a free transfer to the Robinson family, here, at the cottage. There are, of course, down sides to being a dining table.
Mrs R, she’s the bossy one, seems to think it’s perfectly acceptable to dump a load of wet washing on me while she sorts things to dry on the clothes horse by the fire. For some reason they call the clothes horse ‘the blue and white thing’. The blue and white thing is mostly used for clothes drying, but for many years it spent most of the time being a major part of the Robinson children’s games, providing walls around castles and towers when a sheet was draped over it.
I also find it very demeaning that she’ll use me as clearing house, loading me up with all the rubbish and bits and pieces she’s collected from around the home.
She thinks nothing of dumping the whole week’s shopping on me while she sorts things out. Organic fruit and veg is all very well, but can’t they at least wash the dirt off the vegetables? Maybe I don’t look grand enough to be used just for eating? Not classy enough to even wear a fine lace cloth. She’d probably tell you it has more to do with the kids dropping food on it, or candle wax spilling, than because I’m not worthy. But you know as well as I do, that it’s easy to read things into other people’s behaviour!
My latest indignity since that new fat cat arrived is having cats jump on top of me! Hmphfff. I was not made for that! Anyone would think they were meerkats, acting all sentry-like from a look-out point.
Mrs R comes into her own here and promptly banishes them from the room with a few terse words. Her speciality. Then I have to breathe that tea tree stuff (her cure-all) as she smothers my face in it.
The fat cat, Chubs, thinks my carved legs are trees. He’s shredded me so much my pins are unrecognisable from my glossier beginnings. It’s the difference between new, sheer, silk tights and 20 year old wool tights with wool balls all over them. Not pretty.
Enough of the groaning. Life’s good here, really. Just yesterday the girls and Mrs R played scrabble and sipped lemon tea in my company. Mrs R tried to remain calm when she realised Eliza was fiddling ‘the books’ and rearranging numbers on the score sheet.
It gives me purpose to be part of the family in this way.
I’m made of wood and have a split from one side to the other, across my face. Some might say a scar. No longer am I young and smooth, instead I have fork marks. They’ll have been made by Eliza when she was younger.
Then there are pen marks deep into my wood. But then again, I’m not just used for dining. My primary role is the family ‘learning’ desk… as both girls learn from home, rather than at school. Here I see books on everything imaginable… the usual French, geography, history, Steiner maths, art, music, acres of drawing, etc., and then the more spiritual books and conversations around things like A Course In Miracles; The Way of Transformation; The Enneagram of Personality Types.
I hear the girls practise their instruments, and breathe in the tempting smells from the kitchen. Because the kitchen is the size of a postage stamp, they’ll often prepare things in the dining room so the girls can be part of the food making process, which they love.
Although I never get covered in a table cloth, not even a cheap gingham one, Mrs R. adorns me with flowers and a candle. When eight hands and four hearts join together as the family give thanks for another meal, I’m always at the centre of their gratitude. Their words are song-like:
Earth who gives us this food
Sun who makes it ripe and good
Dear Earth, dear Sun
By you we live,
Our loving thanks to you we give…
I love it, too, when they’ve friends for dinner and they scramble around with extra chairs at a table designed for four. Although I’m square, I create a circle of love when people gather around me. I have purpose.
In my years here, I’ve been part of many mailings for The Mother magazine, and a space for creating ideas - reading subscriber letters and enjoying photos from other people’s families.
Much like the fire place in the lounge room creates a focus, a centre, so I too bring a space and place for mindfulness. I am so much more than a face with four legs. Unlike Elvis, I have no less than a wooden heart. In my lifetime I’ve been witness and present to much laughter, many tears, promises and dreams.
Am I any different from you?”
Home Education in the UK ~ URGENT message
Make your voice heard today.
There is currently a petition on-line to retain freedom as home educators.
As home educators we believe our children thrive without the constraints of rigid schooling and national curriculum. We have, for many years, faced unfair scrutiny from the education authorities and social services. We believe the way we educate our children is the best for our children. If you are a UK home educator PLEASE consider signing it online today. Petition closes in March.
http://petitions.pm.gov.uk/HErights/ It's really simply to do, honest!
“At the beginning of November the Department for Education & Skills (DfES) Public Communications Unit (PCU) began to "leak" the news that DfES were planning a full public consultation in the New Year to review the regulations for home education. They described the planned consultation as looking at anomalies in the way that home education is treated, when compared with independent schools (for whom standards for education provision exist) and when considered in the context of Every Child Matters (a set of policies which seek to promote the welfare of children through provision of services to children in need.
DfES are considering introducing new law (changes to primary legislation) which would alter the legal framework which currently exists, and could include compulsory registration, compulsory annual meetings with LAs, and the definition of some kind of standard which would define "suitable" education [eg could include imposition of National Curriculum, powers to access children, see their work, test them etc].
The Consultation will therefore consider whether changes to the law would actually help these objectives. The Consultation will then lead to a decision as to whether a change in regulations about "suitable" education is required. If it is then new legislation would be fitted into the next education bill to go through, which could take a further 12-24 months, and be subject to the usual parliamentary processes where it would be subject to challenge.”
(some of above taken from http://www.freedomforchildrentogrow.org –
great new resource site)
THE NEED TO BE HEARD
The voice of parents, children and extended families needs to be heard if the freedom that we have experienced to date is to be our legacy to future generations wishing to follow their own unique educational philosophy. There are many courses of action open to the extended family of home education and its supporters.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Saturday Cuppa: Rosehip and Hibiscus Tea. When I was a little girl my mum often made this for me. It is especially refreshing when left to go cold.
A Friend's love says:" If you ever need anything, I'll be there."
True love says: "You'll never need anything; I'll be there."
~ Jimi Hollemans
This week marks the eighth anniversary of our landing in the UK. We arrived with two teething, tandem-nursing toddlers, a ventriloquist doll and a few suitcases. Oh, and ten pounds in our pocket!
I have such mixed feelings about my life in the UK ~ an ongoing sense of a lack of kindred-spirit friendships local to where I live, and a deep sense of living in the wrong country. I’ve been blessed to meet some gorgeous women (and their husbands/children); women who’ve become wonderful friends. BUT THEY DON’T LIVE HERE IN CUMBRIA. They’re scattered throughout England, Wales and Ireland.
When I first started The Mother magazine five years ago this month, I knew I had to remain ‘rooted’ to the spot; to commit fully to the publication. And I have.
Then we bought our small piece of land a mile up the road ~ such a bitter-sweet experience ~ and with a heart & soul full of deep desires and dreams I literally put roots down. I was content. I was happy. I praised The Universe for the magic of it all. And then Life threw in one of those nasty little bites that nips you on the backside so darn hard it has you facing the wrong direction, or so it seemed.
Now I no longer have the land, except memories. The administrative affairs of The Mother magazine are now managed by The Art of Change, which means I can literally edit from anywhere in the world, so long as I have an internet connection for e-mailing the final product to the printer.
I should feel joyous, free and ready to fly.
The truth is I’ve never really felt settled here. I’m on a mission to find my soul-home. My night dreams have me in a different country each night, which is very confusing! Some nights I’m back on the 700 acre property (Darling Downs, Queensland, Australia) my parents bought when I was six years old ~ surrounded by mountains, creeks, dams, dozens of horses, and yet, in my dreams, I’m not a child, I’m my present age.
Another night I’m back in New Zealand, not far north of Auckland, yet surrounded by hills and trees and SUNSHINE.
My dream life is rich and vivid. Free entertainment at the best of times!
One particular dream I was living in a beautiful, spacious home when the door bell rang. I opened the door, but no-one was there. I stepped onto the veranda (which was high off the ground) and looked out onto a delightful garden which was all made on water, beautiful lilies everywhere. And then, to my absolute joy, I saw a unicorn in the garden. IN MY GARDEN!!
Last night I was back on the land of my childhood home. The girls were with me, having a great time sliding down a dirt embankment. They were so happy! I was looking out onto the field I always imagined I’d build a home on. In real life, that field was bought by a Robinson Family (how ironic is that?) but, very sadly, the house burnt down (with the family).
In my dream last night, I looked at the ground where the house had been, and contemplated rebuilding on there. The weird thing is, I really have no desire to live in Australia.
Sun, yes. Eucalyptus trees, orgasmic yes! MY MOTHER, YES! YES ! YES!!!
More recently I dreamt I was giving birth ~ everything was easy, peaceful, quiet. Unassisted by midwives, I reached down to touch the baby’s head and was surprised to find it was a tiny foot coming out first. I was thrilled! The ease of the birth; the delight and surprise have led me to believe I will ‘give birth’ to a new way of life in an unexpected but delightful way (hhm, or maybe it is just giving birth to new ideas?).
Years ago, I dreamt of the man whom we bought our small piece of land from, and in my dream there were a lot of turtles coming out of the pond. Without even knowing what the future was to hold, I instinctively took the message to mean, ‘we take our home with us’.
The other day I picked up a book on the Okanagan Valley in British Columbia, Canada; a place with a great climate and a valley filled with fruit trees, amidst a stunning landscape not dissimilar to the Lake District here in the UK.
Tears fell helplessly down my cheeks. I so want to be there.
I don’t feel like I’m running away from anything, but I do feel such a deep need for a blank page; a fresh start. Could there be a connection to hitting 40 this year? It’s just a number, a bloody number for goodness’ sake, yet I feel an overwhelming desire to get on and DO something with my life, instead of just coasting along waiting for something wonderful to happen.
And it might just be that my soul-home IS here in the UK, but where?? In my heart, when I *feel* for what my home looks like, it is a combination, all perfectly formed, of natural landscape, spacious home built from natural resources, and a community of like-minded people.
This week, with all the glorious sunshine, we’ve managed to get in two lovely family walks. The Eden Valley, here in Cumbria, is a little-known paradise adjacent to the well-known Lake District. Our home is near the base of the Pennines, gentle rolling fells, and each day I awake to beauty all around me.
On our family walks this week, I stood high on hills overlooking lush, green, fertile valleys; admiring the meandering River Eden and felt such deep appreciation for living in a place of outstanding natural beauty. The winter sun shone with all its might through tall trees, showering me in an enriching light. Why would I want to leave here? I have to wonder, though, if I’ve not created community here after eight years, will I ever?
We rarely get over to the Lake District despite living a mere 20 minutes from Lake Ullswater. This week we did go over there one afternoon. The scenery is so different from here. Such rugged mountains, deep lakes…truly awe inspiring beauty. It’s no wonder people travel from all over the world to be here!
Half a mile from our home is the Long Meg and Her Daughters druid circle. My girls and I often walk there in the warmer months and picnic in the stone circle.
I’m allowing myself New Eyes so I can remember how darn lucky I am to live here. It’s important I continue to appreciate this beautiful place and allow it to heal whatever it is that causes such a deep ache in my heart ~ an ache that I hope helps me find a physical ‘home’ while I live on Mother Earth.
Home is where the heart is, and my heart needs like-minded hearts and minds to be with on a day to day basis. Phone calls are wonderful. E-mails are great. They allow me to communicate with friends in Panama, Australia, New Zealand, America, Canada, and so on. But e-mails aren’t walks in the sunset any more than they are cups of tea by the fire, or a secret girly night out to the movies. E-mails don’t provide the fun and warmth of sharing an evening meal together. And I miss that.
I really, truly, deeply miss the day-to-day connection of having close friends right on my doorstep. It’s a basic human need to see ourselves mirrored in others…smiles, hugs, laughter, joy. E-mail smiley faces :-) just aren’t a patch on a human smile with a twinkle in the eye, are they? Or the real life laughter that has you wondering if you’re getting to the stage of needing incontinence pads!
As for my Spiritual Home, well, I know it is always with me. I don’t feel disconnected with that. It’s with me, instantly. I take that Home with me everywhere, like a turtle wears its home on its back. My Home is within me, and I’m riding on its back! It carries me through this journey of life. And I could be wrong, but perhaps it is this Inner Home that is navigating me towards finding an Outer Home in which my physical being can resonate to its full potential.
If you live in a place of beauty (away from cities and towns), where kindred spirits abound, do let me know! Love, Veronika