Today is one of those crystalline winter days where the blue of the sky is so boldly beautiful that it seems unnatural. The air, crisp and jolting, screams out for attention and recognition. That it is so cold makes the blue that much richer. The Olympic Mountains stand out like jagged ice cliffs, the white caps alternatively in full sun and shade as the sun passes overhead. Gorgeous.
Today I've gained a bit of positive ground thanks to powerful wisdom that escorts the garbled mess of my mind to a calmer place. Sharing the angst with a trusted receiver has once again given me permission to consider myself and what I want from this "one wild and precious life". ***
I've been to this most precious place where living one's dreams is possible so I know I can go back again; it's a place of peace, acceptance, self-love and surrender. Had I never been there, I would boldly deny the existence of this possibility. But, having lived genuinely for snippets of time varying from minutes to days and weeks, I know that it is there for the taking. I own the key but need to put it in the lock. The key will appear in my hand when I lose the sense that I can control the outcome of these brisk currents, the snow on these tall mountains. or the cyclic changes that come to barren branches. I am close, breathing close to the possibility.
*** From poet Mary Oliver