A wise indigenous woman looked out of her screen at me and told me there is either a pothole or a portal before us. If we choose portal, and go through, carrying our lightmaker tools with us, we can begin to heal and rebuild what has been lost. We can walk into the unknown without fear or resistance, feel better within ourselves, and bring forth all our inner resources to put good things out into the world. I hear this wisdom. It is hard to hold onto it when we are surrounded by so much corrupt power, divisive rhetoric, gaslighting, and the president of our nearest neighbour who is himself a hoax. But still, I have always been a dreamer, which is why our present situation drags me down. Somewhere a few hopeful lines drifted through my head this morning and I thought I would share them with you.
Poetry falters
in this dark night
that's lasting
far too long.
Yet it's especially in
this dismal plight
that the heart most needs
its song.
We need our songs, our drums, our dances and our dreams. Go well, fellow dreamers.
I am off through the mountains this morning to the farm, where I will have some much-needed Animal Therapy. We will go over some potholes for sure, as the rains have come. But that mountain route is also a portal - magical with its mist and clouds playing on the mountainsides, roaring rivers, waterfalls pouring down the cliffs. This planet is so beautiful. My heart will sing its beauty all the way through the mountain pass, and will emerge transformed by the glory of wild nature.
Sherry,
ReplyDeleteAvoid the potholes and enter the portals with light to heal and mend this broken world.
Safe travels my friend.
Lovely words Sherry. Poetry does offer some healing in spite of these horrific times. Be careful driving through the mountains. Have fun.
ReplyDeleteEnjoy the beauty along the way, Sherry!
ReplyDeleteWishing you a wonderful time at the farm - may words and nature wrap you in its arms
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