Creating

I have been totally inspired by Emma Lou Thayne's book "A Place of Knowing - A Spiritual Autobiography".  It makes the words just flow...

Where did my dream to live in Italy become?

Under the Tuscan Sun- the love story between a woman and a country-
is where I first felt the desire. 
I imagined it
            settling into the newness
            inserting myself into centuries of lived life
            blending and accustoming.
 

Later, I felt its possibility paling to a sun muted dream

One tucked away into comfortable cells to visit for a fleeting moment. 
One I would just have to store…
Until two Italians pulled up chairs next to me
And breathed expanding air and without effort helped
Those cells express in bright vibrant colors.

With still more to learn and growth to bless (named WNV),
I flow with vibrant swirls of possibility
Now where is that colored dream?

       A black outlined coloring book page waiting for that delight of child to stomach color?

           or a blank page waiting for someone to boldly declare?
                   or a lined pages in this notebook to left brain it out?

I get possibility. 

“…and whatsoever ye shall ask, it shall be given you” Moses 6:52.

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What has happened to me over the 1^st 8 months of last year? 

I have existed on another plane.
I have floated, buoyed up by peaceful heart knowing water wings
that open my spirit mind, the body giving up the wheel, content as a passenger.
Learning to entertain visitors
Each event taking me to a higher high
With no fear of tolerance or need to detox
Not from this substance.

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4/7/13

The silence
          of the door opening, the clock ticking
straining to hear movement, voices, a welcoming of love
Just me forever?

My soul expands out beyond the bounds of Signora Drive on a crisp evening of green. 

The excitement of possibility
The anticipation of these days being a fond memory

My voice is coming out-

It stops people like a crossing guard allowing unfettered ideas to lift those I love

The silence of this one moment

I have to myself

My heart bursts from my chest reaching for that unknown person – pulling them towards this vision of wrapped up love. 

Look where I have come from, wondering where I get to go, sitting here grateful in silence

Clock ticking

Door opening

Arlington National Cemetery 2013

The women in my genes

My throat buzzes with energy to be told

The story of my life

That goes back through generations of women who had their chance here

When their world was revolving around them and the thought of not mattering didn’t exist

Here they are just stored in files, names and dates, trees with branches forgotten

They branch from me

So many women going in all directions

Each one with a story;  I was born, I lived, I died.

Their stories never reached paper that I could know their inner workings

 

Come to me women- I will write for you. Mothers and daughters passing down codes of what it is to be a woman.

They watch with eagerness to see me find their names, say them, give them an existence

Abigail, Alice, Ellen, Alice, Margaret, Hanna, Sarah, Agnes, Charlotte, Sarah, Martha, Lina, Mary, Eliza, Martha, Sarah, Mary, Hannah, Hannah, Sarah

Matilda, Mary Ann, Caroline, Elizath, Bonnie, Emily, Anna, Ann, Martha, Mary, Susanna, Charlotte, Jane, Ann, Barbara, Viola