Love is part of healing

   I thought I would find healing in the next child. The next child in my Kindergarten or in a baby I would birth or adopt or somehow bring into my life.

  These all came from places of children I could love. That loving was the path. Learning and growing too, but all in and around and under my gaze of Love.

  That doesn't make sense. That at the time when I am only a shadow of myself, when even my own thoughts and intuitions could be all wrong. When I was in darkness and couldn't feel life. It makes no sense that what would pull me out would be giving more of me.

 Yes, giving more would be disappearing into others. It would be noble and it would be fine.
But it would not at all heal me. Instead it would take the very few breaths I had left, breaths that were for me to drink in slowly and exhale with tears. It would take those very last ounces of life away.

And i need to take a breath for me. I need to take two or three. I need to say that it is okay to have a moment that makes me feel warmth and trust and hope and strength.

I want to hold the whole world.
But who is holding me.

I'm sorry to ask. But i think to heal, I need someone to really see me, see my pain, and LOVE ME OUT LOUD!!!

(maybe...or not.. it's okay...i'll just find some solace in speaking this here and in knowing that sometimes my cat purr-talks and comes all the way up to me - right up into my face and just curls up awkwardly on my chest... i think she might be saying she loves me)

This is an incredible feeling.
This on my own that brings so much healing, and I see that to find myself alone I need to always be leaving him or running off somewhere. 

It never felt right, I did it in Japan and got to follow some geisha down a very narrow street. It was one of the most incredibly surreal moments of my whole life - and yet - Alastair did not know where I was. I don't remember if he was worried or upset.. but there was a sense that I couldn't just disappear into the crowd, that at some point there would be a tug and I would have to return. 

This morning, the whole of this place felt different. I walked to work, which on my early day I don't. It's such a small town and Alastair works at the same time so it's easy and makes sense to get a ride in with him. This morning, I got dressed and felt the smoothness of slipping into my boots before heading outside. It was like I was way more present. It was easy. The walk was brisk and I heard the birds. 

I was strong and silly at work and I felt more able to just be there. I loved doing the Kwakwala circle time. 

My world in this tiny place opened up a bit, with thoughts of doing yoga on the beach and having coffee at guidos more. I absolutely love the island life. Just looking out my window into the backyard and seeing the sun through the tall tall trees and someone's smoke from a fire billowing up in the yards below and peacefully floating into the sky. 

I want more of this! This land has captured my heart. 

It is not easy to leave him. He is so soft and sweet and his face is a part of the scenery of my life. Like the blue sky or the birds that sing. He is always there. As I live my life and wander in and out of thought. He is there. 

But when I do, a veil is lifted. A veil over my eyes and my ears and even my heart. Something comes loose and I am ME again! 

Where do my roots take me

                                       Finding my family lineage
   

     We were asked to close our eyes and feel our roots going down through the floor, through the earth all the way to the very hot core of the planet. Then to find ourselves still rooted floating way out in the galaxy. In that open space out beyond the stars, where we are where everything first began - where we are where we all come from. Then we were to see the face of our mother or someone who had cared for us, then to see her mother and her mother and on and on and on.

      There was for me connectivity between my great grandmother, my grandmother and my mother. Yet from my mother to me there was no chord. There was a red thick cord from her but i was not firmly attached, it was not a straight line.

      I thought about my grandfather. His love for me. I thought about my uncle David.
David Gillett. His gentleness, his artistry. Is it possible, that I am connected along the paternal line on my mothers side.

     I want to close my eyes again and ask these questions.

  In the end we were asked to come back to the earth and to look around and see a plant that was there. To know that that was our plant and that our ancestors had all touched or held or used that plant.

   I thought of snow. I was asked more specifically what it looked like, where it grew, what colour it was. Snow didn't work. So my mind went to the ocean and in the clear water there was a rust pink
sea weed floating by, i knew how soft it was and how it felt to hold it and walk the beach.

   We were given the task to go and find that plant. To perhaps bring it into our homes for our alter.

  I had tried this once, and without the Ocean it had vanished. Even the saltwater that i'd brought it home in was not enough to sustain it. First the beautiful red sea weed disappeared and then the water.

   There was nothing to remember it by.
    It needs the Ocean as do I.

 Just like snow. It vanishes if I try to keep it. All that grounds me is ethereal.