I come from there With the spark of Light, life and love. The light that emanates From my windows And the voices that echo Through the walls With play and song. The seasons come And shape the landscape. The house is warm, aglow Or cool and dark. The space we occupy And call home On this double lot Of land with Double driveways And a large lawn for Running feet And space for the swing. The hearth and place For childhood memories, Of love and stories Made believe and real, For connection And friendship, A gathering space For family and friends. The house may Be small and Feel confined At times Within these walls. But love Rules the day As we read Our bedtime stories And share our Nighttime rituals. We kiss and hug A love that lasts More than space or time Could ever endeavor. And I, too, am aglow Because I belong And I proudly Come from there.
Tag: love
This house
This house of ours It is with love that we share the memories, the appliances and the furniture. We invite our hearts arms open wide. I am yours and you are mine. The furniture may change through the years, Along with the appliances and technology. The love is constant like the walls that shield us from the storms. When I am with you, I know true acceptance. There is no place for shame or blame of past circumstance. All are welcome to embody this place. The walls may hold all the memories: the proposal, the wedding, and contain our growing family as our hearts swell in this shared space. It may feel small at times. When we feel there’s an overabundance of toys and gadgets. There just doesn’t seem to be any free space to just be. It is a manifestation of our abundant love and ability to provide our children with cherished memories, A foundation of that security, A love they can carry with them into their own future houses.
Open the window to love
When I open the window to love, I let in more than just fresh air or a better view. There is love in the air. A love of autumn Bright, true colors shine through Surrounded by the abundance of harvest. Juicy apples and round pumpkins to delight with flavor and possibility. The aromas, the sights, the sounds of squirrels skittering and kicking up brush, a treasure in its mouth. It is survival instinct to save for a cold winter's day. I take a mental note and decide to write what I'm grateful for to reread for myself on a hard, cold day. The harvest full moon rose last night and I watched it take its usual path across the night's sky. In my mind's eye, I am looking at its face as it kisses me across the cheek. Such wisdom and stories it holds.
Remember
Remember the scent of the lilacs. How the air just embodied their aroma and drifted it into the windows into my lungs. Remember when they were teeny tiny buds. How 5-year old Lilly marveled at their small size. Little purple bumps bursting from the green. Remember the Easter lilies and this was the first year I got so low to the ground I could actually smell them for the first time. Remember the towering orange iris. Remember the hearty rosebush. Remember the mimosa tree that once stood proud, colorful and fragrant. Now an empty shell. Bare branches. The weakened trunk sways with a gentle push. Remember the dogwood’s white blossoms and Lilly called the neighbor’s pink blossoms “flower snow” as they fell and covered the ground in small piles of soft pink. Remember the woodpecker, the cardinal, the new birds that decided to stop by for a visit. Remember the bunny rabbit, like Old Faithful, arrives around dinner time looking for her evening meal as well. Remember the hawk perched on top of the playset as a squirrel huddled and hid under the child’s chair unmoving and the hawk ever patient. Remember the blue jays that harassed and chased that hawk away and the squirrel that timidly crawled commando style and lived another day. Remember the sweet breeze from the ocean even reaching here not so close to the shore and how I marveled at the salty refreshing air. Remember the first kiss. The special rock overlooking the bay and our life began together. Remember that tender beginning love is still here under the surface. A beloved memory but always here in my heart.
Why are we here?
Why are we here at this moment in time on this small blue green planet?
They say we too are made up of the stars down to the smallest molecule. It can feel so small when the universe is so vast. How can I affect change as such?
What I know is my life has meaning. The answer is always connection. The root is love. So how did I live the answer? I must have lived the question first.
What I didn’t know is I was being led by invisible forces, situations, people and opportunities which became my challenges, my lessons, my guides.
How to live a life well lived and loved is the question. It took me 40+ years to come to the realization and to accept even if the universe is so vast and my actions seem so small and individual, there is a ripple.
If I too am made up of the stars, I have a light inside. A unique heart like an emerald when the light hits it a certain way. I do not know who put it there or where does the light originate from. I can accept that it’s a part of me and we each have our own illuminated hearts beating in our chest. Not so narrow and individually separate. Our hearts can be in rhythm like the collective breath that illuminates the soul.
Healing Insights 