Monica, what a dreadful time for you. I’m thankful for that that “tiny little spark” in you that lit the way for you to inch into your beautiful self. To write what emerges in your mind. I so enjoy the play of your creativity.
There are some days, usually in the morning, when i’m immobilized. I believe in that “tiny little spark” in me. I’ve learned on those tough mornings to sit. Simply sit. My coffee clutched in my left hand swallowing the warmth of hope to be guided. When I sit I wait for direction to surface. My guideline is to wait until that spark moves me to something I have the energy for. It could be anything such as reading in my book, self care to cleaning the bathroom!! To the need to muse to practicing my music to cleaning the glass of the coffee table. I trust my sit time to lead me towards some intentional action.
Oh sweetheart, I know those mornings. The ones where the body won’t rise and the world feels a little too weighted to step into. That tiny spark you’re talking about — that’s the same one that carried me through those months when I didn’t know which way life was leaning.
I love how you describe your sit time. There’s something holy about that moment when you wrap your hands around a warm cup and wait for your inner compass to flicker in the direction you can actually go. It doesn’t have to be grand or productive. Sometimes the quietest nudges end up being the truest ones.
Thank you for sharing this part of your rhythm with me. It’s good to know we’re not the only ones inching our way forward on the days when stillness is the only thing our spirit can manage.
Monica, what a dreadful time for you. I’m thankful for that that “tiny little spark” in you that lit the way for you to inch into your beautiful self. To write what emerges in your mind. I so enjoy the play of your creativity.
There are some days, usually in the morning, when i’m immobilized. I believe in that “tiny little spark” in me. I’ve learned on those tough mornings to sit. Simply sit. My coffee clutched in my left hand swallowing the warmth of hope to be guided. When I sit I wait for direction to surface. My guideline is to wait until that spark moves me to something I have the energy for. It could be anything such as reading in my book, self care to cleaning the bathroom!! To the need to muse to practicing my music to cleaning the glass of the coffee table. I trust my sit time to lead me towards some intentional action.
Oh sweetheart, I know those mornings. The ones where the body won’t rise and the world feels a little too weighted to step into. That tiny spark you’re talking about — that’s the same one that carried me through those months when I didn’t know which way life was leaning.
I love how you describe your sit time. There’s something holy about that moment when you wrap your hands around a warm cup and wait for your inner compass to flicker in the direction you can actually go. It doesn’t have to be grand or productive. Sometimes the quietest nudges end up being the truest ones.
Thank you for sharing this part of your rhythm with me. It’s good to know we’re not the only ones inching our way forward on the days when stillness is the only thing our spirit can manage.
“Let the body go where the heart can’t yet follow.”
This is also how I’ve survived grief the past few months.
Thank you for these words.
Oops!! I wasn’t finished..though perhaps I was!