Drafts & Colors

The thunder is rolling in and my lights have already flickered. Twenty drafts sit hidden in my wordpress account waiting to be published, still not sure if they’ll even make the cut. It’s hard to not feel censored when you know you’re writing through a means other than your journal and an old bank branded pen you had laying around. Streams of consciousness change so rapidly that I’m always afraid I’ll publish words that one day will no longer ring true to me, or that will come off differently than I had intended.

*Shit. Just dropped a chocolate ice cream bar and smeared it all over my keyboard.#win*

So this is practice. Practice just writing, writing knowing that someone else might see these words and actually keep following them until the end of the screen.

Grandmother Earth and Grandfather Sky held me all day today. I was barefoot and sun-shined for hours beneath their sparkling green trees. I’ve been so drawn to the water. It’s not just a desire, it’s a straight up need. I need to put my feet in. I need to splash the cool refreshing drops down my arms and legs. It’s too cold to fully submerse myself under the powerful buzz of the falls, but I can’t wait for that time to come..

The rivers are calling. Standing in the middle of them I’ve never felt more at home. Sometimes I think I was raised in nature. Maybe a past life, a wild woman, not concerned with hairstyles or outfits, only with the sense of freedom she felt in her body when it brushed up against the rush of natures touch.

It’s a different type of freedom, this one that I speak of. It’s this inner knowing that gets fuzzy when you submerse yourself in society rather than the river beneath the trees. It’s easy to get clouded with “should’s” and “shouldn’ts”, or misted with the spray of what’s going on in other lives around you.

Have you ever noticed how nature is so innately colorful? Today that really hit me. There are flowered trees sprinkled everywhere you turn your eye. Green leaves changing to yellow with the rays of the sun. Blue skies filled with white clouds and colorful birds. The best part is that, it’s ever changing. Even after periods of bare silence and gray reflection, the color returns. Nature always cycles back to it’s vibrant energy, it’s aliveness. It seems that change is forever constant and growth is forever budding, even if you can’t always see it happening. Learning to be okay with the gray area is a lesson in itself, undefined and mysterious, but no matter what…there’s always flowers in the spring.

Today we sat on a cluster of light gray rocks in the middle of the river. Thick patches of moss grew up their sides. When we closed our eyes we could hear the rush of the water against the rocks, the song of the birds in the green trees above, and the footsteps and bike tires that traversed the path beside us. The breeze felt like a warm hug wrapping its arms around the bare parts of our skin. We pulled cards. Cards that would speak to us and open new dialogue. Words rolled up from our hearts and off the tips of our tongues joining the gusts of fresh air as it wrapped it’s arms around us.

I am so grateful for these connections…

Connections with this planet and all of the space beyond.

Connections with these people and all of the light they breath into this world.

…And for this sacred connection with myself, that seems to grow stronger with each trip around the sun.


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