I think about her, sometimes, when my heart turns to sun. Nan. Her heart used to shine like that, too, which is why I can’t help but think of her when I feel intense love radiating from my own chest. As an off shoot of the kind of love she gave to me (and, let’s face it, probably genetics) I am who I am. And I love, as deeply as I love.
We fluff our ways through life, bothering about the silliest of things: when really we should hold the beauty, longer. Feel the love of our loved ones, longer. Express our love to others, without fear: give them the beautiful gift of sun that Nan gave to me.
I often think of Nan, and when I do I wonder why I loved her so deeply, why I still feel her today just as beautifully as I did when she was here. I loved her because she loved me. I loved her because there was never a question when I felt her energy how much it meant to her that I was alive. What a gift to be given by someone. What a gift: to know that you have touched their life, that you have meant something to their moments.
I shine when I look at my children with the same kind of love my Nan did when she looked at me, and I can only hope the depth of that love sinks into them as deeply as it has me.
I’m waffling a bit today, and that’s okay. I’m in my love place. I’m in my world of grateful and I intend to make the most of it and spread Nan’s sunshine, while I’m here.
She would have loved that.
She would have loved that I’ve given her sweet sunshine to you.
I knew it would take me there. To the place beyond everything, the place that shows me, really quite beautifully, who I truly am.
I can’t remember the last time I watched Legends of the Fall. A very long time ago. A lifetime ago, you might say, and if you did say that I wouldn’t argue with you. I last saw the movie before I had truly lived. Before I had truly ached. Before I had truly felt loss, and the echoing stillness of life’s fragility.
Last night I watched the movie through new eyes, and it tore me apart. Very beautifully, it tore me apart, but it tore me apart all the same.
It reminded me of the depth and softness of who I am.
It reminded me of the beauty of the human connection.
And it reminded me why I write: to feel and to help others feel, too.
It’s been a while since I’ve been here. Awake at 3:30 am, and really not at all tired, actually.
So I thought I’d pay you all a visit and just waffle for a while.
I’m not sure why I’m awake. I’ve had a very emotional day, perhaps that’s it; I’ve not been the best with sticking to a proper meditation routine, over the past few weeks of crazy busy. For me, a break in meditation usually means that when I do happen to find a nice rhythm, again, the heavier stuff I’ve been carrying tends to clear in waterfalls of tears. It’s lovely, really. I’m more than happy to cry out my pains, especially when I see all the good it’s done me so far.
I’ve lived enough in my life to have found many pieces of the human pie, which continue to blow my world apart, beautifully. On the surface, many of these ‘growth’ opportunities have looked like pain, and yes, in the day to day living part they’ve been painful to go through. But they have shown me things I need to heal, and they’ve also shown me how far I’ve come since I was that soft, quirky, shy little girl who would back out a cafe door at the moment of entry, if the owner looked even the tiniest bit like a meanie. And that feels really, really lovely to me.
To have gone from being someone who has buried most of the difficult things I’ve faced in life, to now be looking at them and daring to move through them bravely: I’m very proud, I have to say. I’ve still got no idea half the time, and I’m still so brokenly human, but life is for living and that’s what I’m doing.
Not only that, but I now have the promise of a beautiful soft internal world to return to when the waves of human nonsense have passed on through. I know the soft girl’s energy very well, now, so when I fully embody the beautiful warm breeze of her, I know I’m home, and I’m grateful. What a gift. I’ll never take such feminine softness for granted.
It’s such a dense and horrible world at times, which still has the ability to topple me (like the bullying post I wrote the other day) but I am getting there, I think.
I should probably try to sleep, I suppose. 🙂
So much love, bloggy friends. You know you all mean the world to me. I hope you’ve all been sailing through your own human waves and coming out shining. If not, that’s perfectly okay. You will shine again. I’m quite sure of that. xx