“I am a writer. I am a seeker. I can find magic anywhere. I want to tell you stories and tell your stories. I love to celebrate everything in every way. I can see to the heart and the possibilities in anything. I am still afraid of my own bigness. I want to consciously decide how to live each day.  I have a profound belief in the sacredness of all things. I want to shine a light.” – megg

It’s all there.

I have done the research. I have the books (nearly all of the books!) I have the paint and the glue and the glitter. I have the mala and the camera. I have the computer and the pen. I have the crystals and the sage and the websites. I have the DVDs and the pdfs. I have the words – especially the ones I wrote at the top of this post – and the support.

The bones are ready.

In Women Who Run With the Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estes writes:

“La Loba sings over the bones she has gathered. To sing means to use the soul-voice. It means to say on the breath the truth of one’s power and one’s need, to breathe soul over the thing that is ailing or in need of restoration…That is singing over the bones.”

I read those lines for the first time when I was about 23. I didn’t get it then, and I am not totally certain I get it now.  What I do finally understand is that I have been collecting bones ever since.

How I understand the story of La Loba today is that now I need to consciously choose to stop collecting and start singing. I need to “…say on the breath the truth of [my] power and [my] need.”  My daily practice has been collecting and searching, collecting and searching for as long as I can remember. Now it is time to sit still and breathe soul.

Sit still and breathe soul.

Yes.

ox

“Creativity, and the meaning we bring to the celebration of life, is the way in which women naturally walk in radiance.” – Pixie Campbell

I have lost count of the number of times I have sat down to write a blog post.  There are a dozen posts sitting in limbo – some half finished, some finished – waiting for me to have the heart to hit publish.

Nothing has felt right.

I have felt lost and uninspired; bored of myself and my declarations.

I’ve been to London with my tribe to see the sparkling Martha Beck.  I’ve been to Italy and filled up my beauty bank. I’ve been to London to visit the Queen.  I have a lot to tell you.

But it wasn’t enough to kick my butt back here – until today.

This morning I read these words of Pixie’s and they found the dark, hiding part of me that needed to hear them:

“Creativity, and the meaning we bring to the celebration of life, is the way in which women naturally walk in radiance.”- Pixie Campbell*

In my rush and my work and my stress and my anxiety and my need to write things that please you and my grown-up-stuckness, I have let slide the two things that are the most essential to who-I-am: creativity and celebration.  All this time I was looking for a way to shine a light, but first I had to remember where mine truly was.

I am a writer. I am a seeker. I can find magic anywhere. I want to tell you stories and tell your stories. I love to celebrate everything in every way. I can see to the heart and the possibilities in anything. I am still afraid of my own bigness. I want to consciously decide how to live each day.  I have a profound belief in the sacredness of all things. I want to shine a light.

That’s who I am and what my blog is going to be about.

I remember now.

xo

*This quote is used by permission and is from the Solstice Soulodge. Summer session starts on July 2nd!

“Google Reader (384)“

You have posted three hundred and eighty-four posts since I last checked in on you.  That’s appalling.

(Not that you have posted that many, but rather that I haven’t checked in on you in that long.)

Things are shifting here.  I have realised that wings aren’t the only thing I have to create. I need to get some dirty muddy roots going too, so my site will be undergoing a metamorphosis very soon.  Then, hopefully, my sassy sacred self will be where she belongs: deeply grounded and able to fly.

My gift to you is this picture of what our garden gate looks like this week.  Plum and cherry blossoms are filling the air with petal snow, and I am feeling deeply ready for spring.

I’ll be visiting you very soon ~ but I can’t help but wish we could meet for tea under my cherry blossoms instead.

You are loved.

P.S. Listen to this. (Thanks to Jen Gray)