Adorning bright
pink to celebrate the spirit of joyful goodbyes. An energetic squeeze of
tremendous thanks to readers and this dear blog space before I move forward in
love to the next writing venture.
***
I believe in
goodbyes.
I believe in
the healing power of keeping white roses in a lovely gray vase in the living
room, and I believe in romancing and flirting with words, and in impromptu
dance parties, too.
I believe that
this is the right time to bid this blog goodbye, because of the sun-drenched
morning with the white roses, the playful winks from wooing words, and the solo
dance moves pouring me back into joyful embodiment.
I confess I
resist to bon voyage at first. I negotiate with inspiration and make a strong
argument on departing when I am emotionally calm and clear in my life’s
direction, but this blogging teaches me (again and lovingly again) to accept,
embrace, and even rejoice in all my questioning, my seeking, and my stumbling
becoming.
This gentle
befriending of the woman I am here is the unexpected gift of blogging, and this
practice of gentleness now weaves into my routine, into choosing what and how I
go and do, into the inner writings of my thoughts, and informs the
compassionate response to my sensitive wiring and to my loves and fellow earth
travelers, too.
This gentle
befriending of self is a wish fulfilled, a circling back to tend and replenish
from an internal well. The holding of a former lover reveals the wound, a lack
of overflowing nourishment fully seen through a hope spoken out loud that
scares me awake in my healing.
“I hope you’re
good to yourself.”
He speaks the
words into a winter night, and I catch them, and I hear them still, because
this is the last time I talk with him, and by talk I mean soul-speak in
trembling honesty to a man whom I loved. This is our goodbye, and we don’t know
it then.
There is wind
blowing through pine trees, and I stand so very tall and straight on the bare
edge of my courage. I’m startled by the accuracy of his reading, of detecting a
wound I never acknowledge.
I hint at the
hurt and its crying existence through the way I ooze abundant honey to others.
I give and exude as a silent plea that I need to be loved this way, too, and
his words shake me into a dawning recognition that my ache must be visible,
must perfume the energy of my actions.
My hammering
heart knows he will not heal this hurt. His own journey absorbs him, and he
only sees me when I stand in front of him.
I do not feel
abandoned. I feel emboldened.
This is the
greatest gift he gives me – an unconditional acceptance I haven’t experienced
again in a romantic affair, a loving gaze redirecting me back to myself,
catalyzing my own quest to confirm and establish a rich inner realm celebrating
and honoring my own inherent worthiness.
After, I dare
to blog land.
I challenge
myself to write and maintain a practice of collaging experiences into a
snapshot of a piece. In the process of writing, in the act of creating, I
befriended, slowly and gently, pieces of me. I allow my sensitivity to shimmer
to the surface. I find breath-giving relief in stitching together feelings and
impressions into a brief story shedding light onto an understanding that flows
into my being and proceedings. Writing enlivens and satisfies and completes me.
Writing releases
me back to my truth.
Here is my
truth: I leave this blog still restless with yearnings, messy with feelings,
and contemplating lessons from an unwarranted critique. I could wait to kiss
adieu when I feel a tad bit more centered in a sunlit truth, but the white
roses, the morning dance moves, and the affectionate flirtation with the cooing
words gentleness, reverence, respect move me to act on the creative wink to
write now.
I write from
the rawness of the now, from a sun-kissed February afternoon, and I hope you’re
good to yourselves, too. This is my joyful, gentle goodbye to you, to the
readers who held space and opened hearts and created pockets of time to journey
with me.
Wow. A
hands-to-prayer, a humble and wholehearted proclamation of the deepest thanks.
Thank you, thank you.
I hope your
days are beautified by reminders, like white roses, to reawaken you to your own
elegance, wonder, and grace.
I wish you
glorious love affairs with words as a way to enrich and enlighten your own
deepening, your own becoming.
I hope you
stretch out into radiant joy to a playlist that sings straight back into the
power of your body, the power of your effervescent being.
In the ritual
of goodbye, I give thanks for this little spin of web space, and now utilize
the bright energy of 2018 and the love of February to move me forward toward
the next writing step. And if you feel inspired and resonate, you’re welcome to
travel to my new
writing space too!
Sending waves
of golden goodness, and streams of gentleness like winter sunshine into your day,
into this moment of life to fill you up, lift you up, and ignite your natural shine.
