Milestones away from the way I used to live. I look at flushing in a whole new light as running water and indoor plumbing returns to my life after one year in Maine. Some say I have courage to live without, others simply say “so?” I love it when they say “so?” It brings me back to zero.
Today I wake up and whine about not being spiritually attuned. Huh? Me? Not ripe? I am reminded that I tend to project. “I want to be ripe” says the apple on the tree which grows far from the ground. Hardly!
Later, I chop, heat and mill the bushels of apples I have spent days collecting in the wild of Mid Coast Maine. All of them hardy, round and pure. I have 18 quarts of compulsive gathering in Mason Jars. I wonder, would they rather be on the tree?
I am road tripping. It has been 4 weeks down the Coastal States from Massachusetts. Yesterday, I turned Northbound from Miami after a swim in the ocean. Granted, I move slowly, savoring the rich and deep relationships that I find as doors open with the slightest touch of my heart. People and places move me. Just not very fast. I am incubating as something inside builds. No doubt, pen will come to paper soon enough.
I find a quote posted on jasminewanders.com. I love it. This is part my reality. Today.
“A subject to which few intellectuals ever give a thought is the right to be a vagrant. The freedom to wander. Yet vagrancy is deliverance, and life on the open road is the essence of freedom. to have the courage to smash the chains with which modern life has weighted us (under the pretext that it was offering us more liberty), then to take up the symbolic stick and bundle, and get out! The healthy wayfarer sitting beside the road scanning the horizon open before him, is he not the absolute master of the earth, the waters, even the sky? His estate has no limits, his empire no law. No work bends him toward the ground, for the bounty and beauty of the earth are already his. To have a home, a family, a property or a public function, to have a definite means of livelihood and to be a useful cog in the social machine, all these things seem necessary, even indispensable, to the vast majority of men, including intellectuals, and including even those who think of themselves as wholly liberated. And yet, such things are only a different form of slavery that comes of contact with others.” – Isabell Eberhardt
This year I write a love letter. It has been many years. Too many years. I am learning to express with abandon. And more importantly, to love. Without fear.
This morning I stumble upon a blog that spurs me to share. It has been too many months. It brings tears to my eyes. We can never share enough love.
How to get HERE from there?
Have very precise experiences, be them “good or bad” in the eyes of others and keep on putting one foot in front of the other. Time to enjoy the ride that I asked for.
(I write my own script for maximum awakening in each lifetime. No matter what the poison, suffering, oppression, suppression, trauma, ignorance, or even bliss, it is all in effort to shift consciousness. Trust that I did this and my perception shifts form there to NOW.)
I have a friend in need.
And so, I share my vision that set me free.
I am severely called out on Truth
It cuts deep
I feel my wound
I never look back
I trade Pride and Prejudice for Truth
I hold onto this vision
I feel it.
The pain of regret.
It dissolves my Pride
It reasons with Prejudice
I surrender for Truth
This is my freedom