I’m grateful for my penned books, they’re like children to me. Writing words down in light. Choosing to package them up with titles and a fancy trim size. Letting my inner world escape. Author is a fun title. Writer, a calling.
I’m glad I have this project. writing here. This is a space where I come together on mornings, hair undone, pjs on, I’m in bed right now, but most often on my balcony. It’s a place I get to play, to stretch, to live in this little world that’s like the suns glow.. writing waters my garden. Journaling feels free. And even more sometimes, daring…a place for us wild ones. To meet. To share. To connect. To breath words sometimes into the wee hours. There is no clock when inspiration calls.
I feel connected as I greet you in this way. Yes, I’m here, writing alone on my own device. Often in a journal with a pen. But it feels like you’re here. I never feel alone, rather, held. Supported. Pen to page.
Lonely? Weirdly. I’m not. Life has felt slightly, or a lot…arguably lonely these past couple years…but that’s a poor word for it, lonely. It’s felt rather like a rich balm of inner wound dressing. It’s felt like mending. Tending. A reaching in. Intentionally sitting with self. Feels like many of us have traversed this landscape lately.
I do spend a lot of (maybe too much these days) time on my own. But I like it. It feels simple. Supportive. Softer, sometimes. Less energy.
In my own company. Its inviting. It’s not (as) wild as it used to be, in my inner landscape…this place within that I call home.…I’d like to think I’m growing up. I am. I am. I am. I’m growing up.
My cat’s always here. Privy to the adventure.
As I navigate and witness the electric unsteady. The subtle sway.
I reach for that place of “no mind”. Try to become no one. All the while encountering…
Exploring spaces of no mind… but also, crazy tambourine playing chimpanzees on acid wandering alone through the desert, kinda mind states.
I embrace it all. The more spacious time to myself, the more I watch the waves of myself rise and fall. Reminiscent of stints in the ashram. Baring witness to inner rhythms. Simplicity in routine to watch the inner wanderings.
I heard someone say recently…I’m not growing up, I’m growing “in”. And I really get that now. It lands a little deeper than it might have before for me.
Inward. This really is where it’s all at. Where it begins and ends. Where the medley of myself is tossed up and seasoned.
Where both truth and beauty dwell.
I experience my whole world from within
Better make that garden a god damn sanctuary I think to myself smirking.
I pull a lot of weeds.
But I’m sure as hell tending to it ;)
And that’s the dance right there.
Firmly rooted and Light on my feet.
Dug deep. My soil feels rich here.
It’s warm. And it’s free. And it’s blooming.
It’s grounded…but it sure is a lion sanctuary.
Love, Ashley
