Day is just Beginning

A brown, bronze and purple Fall, and I’m wanting to start out again. Seems strange to want to begin new journeys just as Autumn sets in, and then I remember Frodo, setting out on his great adventure on his uncle’s birthday, September 22nd. So, it turns out I’m a little behind, after all. A shooting grass stem when bent around, reveals each fragmented tangent, each broken start, and yet retains the complete arc. Are lives made this way? Uncontrollably whole, though we try our best at times to break them.

I’ve learned that even when I have plenty to do, I still gnaw myself to pieces. Never wanting to let myself exist, I now find myself situated in just such an environment as to challenge this notion, to throw it into relief, so that I address it. If I can allow myself to live here, than I can find a little space for myself just about anywhere. This doesn’t mean I should launch a virulent defense, throwing caution to the wind, or an open rebellion. It means finally setting out on the journey I’m meant to take, the one I long to take: the journey to my happiness, the one I can’t even really name yet, which seems to be a quality of all great adventures. God exists, and I am a woman on a path to find Him. This is all I really have, what The Grail Message has given me, and what I sense to be at the heart of the matter.

I’m so easily confused, always asking for permission to exist. With each step, a scary past is hemming the progress, and fear is tightening the ligaments that should send me forward. Strangely, I don’t want protection, just freedom; not safety, just peace. But even saintly leaves get tossed about in the wind, and they don’t loose their purpose, they never relinquish the vital job they fulfill. Growing leaf in me, unfurling in a stormy Spring, where do you point? Upwards, to drink in Light as if It were purest water, to right and left, for new perspectives, and downward, in earthy humbling prayer. Little leaf, don’t loose your way, the day is just beginning.

Painting: Unwelcome Return - Alan Lee